Category Archives: Writing

October 11, 2025 · 3:43 am

Deciphering Her Older Brother’s Art, the Family Became Closer: She Wrote Out the Secrets of Her Family, Found the Values of Life of Her Mentally Ill Older Brother

How through writing about the family, she finally found the understanding of her brother’s behavior, and, helped her resolve the issues she had toward her own, family…off of the Front Page Sections, translated…

There’s, enormous pressures that fell on Tang in writing out her family’s, secrets, although she’d gained consent from her older brother on her plans to write, and he’d told her there would be no issues, “but writing about the handicapped person, I can’t just get the oral consents from him”.  Tang had done many reports on handicapped persons, and knew the matter of ethics, and so she doesn’t writing “the story of her own home”, instead, she’d written out the perspective of the world from her brother’s views from a reporter’s point of view.

She’d interviewed former classmates, school instructors of her older brother, and had the artists decipher her older brother’s work, through the various angles, she’d made her older brother’s life become three-dimensional.  When she sifted through the information from the interviews she collected and began writing, she’d returned her older brother to a “complete person” who experiences the many emotions, with his own independent thought processes, and not just from the angle of a “schizophrenic patient”.

Writing is more than documenting, but it’d become an opportunity for her and her older brother to connect to each other, to help the family find closure.  Through writing, Tang saw her older brother’s artwork, and had the artist decipher her older brother’s art, which helped her older brother to get an exhibition of his work, and won the awards.  This made her parents proud, and on some levels, it’d helped soothed the regrets that her parents carried, for her older brother’s mental illness.

After the book was published, she continued in contact with her older brother, shared with him the feedback she got from her book, and, continually displayed her older brother’s artwork in the independent bookstores, the cafes, and helped her older brother with the titles of his pieces.

Through writing, Tang publicized her “family’s secrets”, broken down the shut-in system of her family, for her, the depth of the meaning of this, is that she believes that her older brother should be viewed as a “complete person of worth; her older brother’s psychological illness had been covered up for thirty years, this was a disrespect and the invalidating of his value and worth as a human, being.

Tang’s older brother started experiencing his symptoms at age twenty, by twenty-two, he was expelled from the university, at age twenty-three, the whole family immigrated to Canada, and her older brother’s illness became the elephant in the room since, a secret that the family kept, and not told anybody outside.  At the same time, Tang was between sixteen to nineteen, just immigrated to Canada, in the stage where she was fighting to survive in the high school years, very pressed to acculturate herself into a different culture and interpersonal relations.

Nobody explained why her older brother was behaving abnormally, as her older brother got mad for no reasons at home, screamed, or behaved in a way she couldn’t understand, she only felt fear.  Later, as she graduated from university, returned to Hong Kong, working as a reporter, a lecturer of university, until the moment she began to write, the relations with her older brother was “lost in contact”—lacking all reasonable explanations, without any emotional connections whatsoever.

Tang said, she is currently in the best stage of her, life right now, because she had an older brother the family needed to hide as she became adult, she’d never been happy, but because of writing, she was able to unlock the family, and also, sorted through her own thoughts, and she’d let go of the years’ worth of burdens she carried, the feelings of being wronged, and found brand new connections with every member of her, family.

And so, this is what it took, for this woman, to finally resolve the issues that she has with her families, as she’d grown more mature, and learned more about why her older brother behaves like he does, she is better able to understand, and empathize, and that can only come with, age, and maturity.

Leave a comment

Filed under Awareness, Family Dynamics, Family Matters, Life, Mental Health Issues, Observations, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Stories of Hope, Writing

Tagged as

June 7, 2025 · 2:31 am

Touched by the Memories

How the perspective of every person is, different, due to our individual personality characteristics, and, the interactions we share with our external, environments…translated…

As I was reading these articles, I’d burst into laughter many times.

It seemed, that it’d been, a very long time, since I’d, felt like this.  Opening up my FB, I’d thumbed through the thousand character passages that helped me gained more knowledge, and I’d turned on Instagram, because I wanted to let these, funny animals, to loosen me up, and, as I entered into Threads from time to time, either that there’s the STINK that filled my air, or that I couldn’t tell if what I was reading was truth of, made-up news.  If I really wanted to read something that’s, relaxing, I’d had to, find my reading list, to find a fitting to the times, the place, my appetite, book of essays (but normally, as I was, making my selections, my thoughts, wandered off to elsewhere).

The newspaper section is my starting point—I can say that, I suppose?  After publishing two books in one breath, I’d started to learn, to hone up my essay writing skills on here.  Because I’m with a bad short-term memory, and couldn’t continue keeping my journals, back then when I’d begun writing for the column here, recorded down many of the things and people who moved me.  Every time I’d reread my own work, I’d always, mumbled to myself, how brave I’d been, to accept this writing assignment back when.  And because of this, I’d begun, this habit of, not willing to, say no to the invitations to write for the columns, felt that every time the editor asked me to draft, all the words that came out of me, after I’d, drained out my thought juices, they were all, saved for my own, future, self.

Compared to being a judge, I’d selected these set of ten articles using the standards of a “reader”.  In other words, I’d considered the contents, then the words, but, sometimes, the line between the two gets, blurred.  Because the stories are all about life, not about life or death always, but of the smaller blessings, I’d tried staying impartial on “no experience is greater than the other”, to evaluate, then make the selections.  After all, everybody’s life comes, full, circle, comparing the sizes of the circles, it’d felt like I’m, criticizing how someone looked on the outside, how they may have a larger bone structure that made them look, heavier.  What I cared more is the stories that came from others’, life experiences, turning the experiences into written, form, did the writer write smoothly, with the flowing well of the stories, and the aftertaste of reading.  Even if it’s something very small—the raspberries in that cake, the name of the WiFi user, that bowl of, stolen, honey, the tiny finger that’s weird on the bus, the foods that gave the readers a bad case of the stomach flu, the chin of that guide dog……the interactions of people, became the specific moments in the, memories.

That very moment, was the writing topic I’d given to my own, class.  The extensions from that, the guessing of feeling, to discover the different in perspective, of the storylines.  The setting is always, similar, but, through the close examinations of the details of the characters’ experiences, there are always, these, noticeable details that aren’t, exactly, the same.  Looking out, all the layers of experience, what the characters experienced, were more of the same, but, as I read closely, I’d found, that the stories are,, unique.  Every era, every place, everybody can, write a story of, one’s, own.

So, due to the differences of experiences of our lives, and how we feel differently about the things we may encounter in our lives, even if we experienced things that are, similar, two people will still have different things to say about it, because we are, unique, in how we experience the world, and this comes from how we are, socialized in our interactions with our, external environment, and also due to our, personality characteristics, our nature.  And it’s this delicate interactions between nature AND nurture (the feedbacks from our social environments), that made our stories, different.

Leave a comment

Filed under "Professional" Opinions, Life, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Writing

Tagged as

April 8, 2025 · 3:45 am

Those Who Knew Too, Much

The writer’s, whose fictional tales, have roots in the, facts, that’s what made the work, so good, that we can’t, put them, down, because there are, hints of, the truths in the tales that the writers are, telling…translated…
Wherever there are people, there are, secrets, and, there’s always, that someone who knew too much, behind the secrets. The married boss has another woman, and, other than the secretary, maybe his, chauffeur knew too; there are always the amounts on the ledgers of the company that didn’t match up, and, those who messed with the books, are usually, the boss’s trusted members of the company, or out, like the members of the, families. Someone ordinary, may know about someone else’s secret, unintentionally, and, the minor, can cause the storms of other’s, lives, and the majors, can be related to the scandals of the countries’ leaders, and of course, these secrets can sometimes, get the individuals who knew them into, big, trouble.
In some of the occupations, there would be, massive number of secrets being kept, like the attorneys, the press reporters, the intelligence agents, along with, the church officials too. The attorneys, after accepting the major criminal cases, learning too much about the client’s, would be in that tug-of-war of the conflicts of interests; the reporters, having more details from the inside, anything from the secret children that the famous had, to getting deep into the warzones, to uncover the, truths; as for the intelligence agents, from planning to overthrow, they’d needed the secrets, like the nuclear weapon information during the Cold War. The priests, seemed to not have anything that’s worldly, bothering them, but in the T.V. series, we see them, in that confession quarter, through that tiny window, hearing the shocking secrets that someone’s telling, then, they would be caught between the ethics of religion, and the, laws, do they, expose, should they, stop act act……………
The most beneficial thing about being an editor-in-chief is that we’re, in this, harmless line of work, and yet, we encounter an assortment of, interesting, people, sharing their, secrets with them. The doubts of the notable forensic investigators in their, renowned cases, some of these details, still couldn’t get made public to this, very day; the bar ladies who’d, cleaned her hands of the work, running an, illegal, brothel, under the cover of their, bars; the retired senior intelligence agent, talking about the cases; the mob leader who’d been, imprisoned for decades, patted his Samoyed, telling his glorious, past, what he wanted to share with his followers, was his newfound love of, art, what he’d, picked up in his time in, prison.
Reason why they’re all able to, speak on things so casually and so openly is because, everything they talked of was in the, past. They are no longer with their former agencies, former, organizations now. And all who may have been hurt by them, or gotten involved, all are, anonymous, or, dead already. The disclosures of one’s own secrets, bring about that needed released, or maybe, this serves as a good way, to sort through, one’s own, life. When an editor is given this sort of a content, other than considering the sales of the books, they also need to consider the boundaries of the law, and balancing it with the moral aspects of things: will the contents cause the author to get sued? Which detail we need to check again, which segments we need to, cover, up. Could the authors have, “spiced up” the stories some, to show that they’re, important players in the stories they’re, telling? More importantly, are the contents for the purpose of the moment’s disclosure, or, do they, have a depth of meaning to be, conveyed to the, readers?

the definition of “factitious”…image from online
I thought of the German bestseller I’d read last year, “Crime”. The author, Ferdinand von Schirach is a criminal attorney, the summary of the book told, that the eleven stories were real cases. I thought that I would read about the murders that shocked the society, but the first story was on how an ordinary person like you and I, through the times, grew into, a murderer. He’d written so perfectly on the relations of crime and malice, like how he was, with the personal, experiences of the details himself. The summary of the book told, that the author, due to his line of work, was troubled by human nature, left his law practice, and began writing. I don’t know if he was, a good lawyer, but after I’d read his work, it’d felt like, he was an author whose career in writing was delayed by the legal realm.
This trouble also bothered Le Carre, the most excellent spy novelist of our, times. Because he’d worked in intelligence before he became an author, before he published “The Spy Who Came in from the Cold”, he’d had the experiences of working in intelligence, and had the intelligence office he worked in, review over the books he was about to publish before he’d published them. After long and thorough evaluation, the British Intelligence thought, that the book wasn’t from his experience as an agent, that it was, purely, fictional. But, the novels described the international relations of post-Cold War Era too precisely to the reality. Which was why the media press all believed, that there are, the factual basis of his characters and, events. With the passing of time, the book started, selling hard, and Le Carre was identified as a British spy who’d exposed the intel of the secret services, using his novels to expose everything that’s been, covered up during the Cold War.
LeCarre was very upset about how he was, noted as a former spy turned writer, instead of a writer who is excellent in writing stories about, spies, he’d worked really hard to clear his, name. But I’d felt, that if he really was, a spy, then, the British Intelligence Agents are, all, excellent, writers.
This is on the stories we come up with, is closely related to the real events of our lives, and, because the stories are reflective of the truths of the world around, that’s why, the readers may be, mistaken into believing, that the works of FICTION that the writers are sending to print are, truths, and that, is the best the writer can go, making the readers believe, that their works of fiction are, true.

Leave a comment

Filed under "Professional" Opinions, Creative Writing, Fiction Writing, Life, Observations, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Writing

Tagged as , , ,

May 20, 2024 · 1:48 am

My Mentors in Writing

The published writers who’d become, inspirations to the apprentice of, storytelling, how reading and writing go, hand-in-hand, as always!  Translated…

My eldest sister is eight years senior to me, and the eldest sisters are like mothers to their, younger, siblings, she’d looked after me through my younger years of life, and, in the means of me, modeling after everything she did, what touched me the most, is probably those days that I’d chased after the author, Chung Yao.

At the time, there was a local novel, comic rental shop, my eldest sister was a VIP there, every time there’s a new book that came, the owner would always save it for her first, of these, were the “Crown magazine” with the chapters of romance novels by Chung Yao.  In my eldest sister’s not banning, not encouraging, the author’s earlier works, I’d, not, missed out on.  As the kids my age were still into the series comics on the papers, I was getting introduced, into the love and hate of the adult world, romances.

After I graduated middle school, I had an allowance raise, and knew to utilize the libraries, my outside reading started off on a, different stage.  At the time, I’d loved the ghost story writer, Zhong-Yuan Sima and Yu.  These two masters were diverse in their styles, and because of the major disparity of the two, it’d, added more to my joys of reading.

Yu is a Taiwanese novelist living in the U.S., born in Shanghai, after graduating university in Taiwan, she’d headed over to U.S. to pursue a higher degree and to live.  She’d excellent in delicately describing the Asian foreign exchange students and the scholars from China in the U.S., the characters were all feeling the dissonance of the two cultures, the cultural shocks, and gone through identity crises, the realistic stories are really, resonant.

Yu often sighed: in the U.S., I can only, settle down but NOT set my roots down, my roots are in China………post 1975, she’d gone to China many a times, and, commended Communism publicly, and this upset the then KMT government, and the government agencies banned her books; not allowing her entry into Taiwan.  In 2016, she’d returned back to Taiwan, and had a book promo “Li-Hwa Yu’s Selected Works”.

Sima was famed for his ghost-storytelling, a national treasure.  He’d claimed, “I’d forgotten to drink the soup of the goddess of the wind, and, reincarnated, that’s why I’d talked of the supernatural all the time.  Other than the ghost stories, he’d also written the horror novels, the historical novels, as well as the, essays.  Being articulate, he’d even hosted the radio shows, and T.V. shows too.  His works were quite unique: the setting of his scary tales were most often in the graveyards, the deserted land or the, open plains, the protagonists are all handicapped.  Every single tale, from the first word, to the descriptions of the setting, the plot, all tingled the readers’ minds.

Both writers are excellent in digging deep into the times, and, gotten in in-depth discussion of human nature with their writings: one had studied abroad, can write in English; the other, native and local, with the files of never-ending tales from the crypt that never finishes being told.  They were both, my mentors in writing, and given me the inspirations I’d needed when I ran dry on inspiration…………can’t imagine, how my pursues of the stars in my younger years, is still, yielding the returns, back to me to this very, day!

So, this is how the books are, excellent, because you get a peek into the writer’s writing styles, and, it helps you become, a better writer, and the writers this individual enjoyed reading are totally different, which added to his depth of literary gift too.

Leave a comment

Filed under "Professional" Opinions, Creative Writing, Fiction Writing, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Writing

Tagged as ,

November 14, 2021 · 9:45 am

Finding Solace in the Words…

Finding solace in the words, the words that spoke, directly, to me, it seemed, that the writer really, knows, what I’d been, going through, my whole life!

Finding solace in the words, this, is what we all want, to make that connection, to feel, that we’re not, all alone, in this world, that we’re, currently, experiencing, ALL the, bad parts in right now.

But, we’re, ALL, alone, separate, entities, standing on, our own, by our own, selves here, and, NOBODY can, take these, pains away!

Finding solace in the words, I’d, tried, so very hard, to find some sort of a commonality of our, experiences, and yet, I kept, coming up, empty handed, but how’s that even, possible, when we’re, almost, identical, in our, experiences in our, separate lives?

like, this…

查看來源圖片
found online

Finding solace in the words, yeah, I’d found EVERYTHING in these words that I’m, currently, writing out, and through the verses, the passages of the books I’d read, and I don’t need, NOTHING (and your point being???) more.

Got everything I will, EVER need, right here (don’t ask where “here” is still)!

Finding solace in these words, you’re in need, of, too much comforting, and I can’t give it, ‘cuz, I ran out, and, you can’t get what you need, nor what you want, from me, as in, E-V-E-R, and that’s, that!

Note: this is still NOT (why am I repeating myself here again???) directed toward ANYBODY who CAN read, and if you can’t read yet, and you understand this article, do give me a call, I’d loved to meet ya…

Yeah, uh, right…………

Leave a comment

Filed under Healing Process, Life, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Writing

Tagged as , ,

November 14, 2021 · 3:02 am

Immersing Myself in the Word, Every Day

Grateful for the subsection of the UDNPapers, that’s brought us so many knowledge, shared memories, and a ton, of wonderful things, to enrich our daily lives, translated…

I loved reading the subsections of the paper like a book, especially the D2 sections of the UDNPapers, there are the writers from all walks of life that were printed on here, and, an assortment of contents, naturally.  I’d recalled that one time, the editor’s office asked the medical staff members to write the stories of the giant white towers, it’d captivated the readers’ attentions, making us want to read, reread, and reread over, over, and over again.  The “Secret Headquarters of the Car Wash” that got started this year is also, attention-catching, the writer can tell how the owners of the cars he’d washed and repaired lived from the cars that were dropped off, this was totally, magical to me.

查看來源圖片
something to do, EVERY, day…

The other four columns that were also my favorite aside from this one: in “Animals on Stage”, I’d felt the strong emotional connections the writers felt toward the animals they have.  In “A Treasure Map of Memories”, I’d noted the different ways of life the various age groups of people have, and, they’d offered a fun comparison to my own life experiences.  And I’d loved the seasonal writers who’d written for the Youth Column, they’d used their words, recorded down the lives in their own separate professions, although these are smaller in sizes, but, covering a wide spectrum of topics, eye opening, truly.  And for the “Topics of Discussion” columns, although these came in smaller passages, they are all, eye-catching.  The same things that’s happened in the lives of various people, produced, different stories, with the different enlightenments from their separate, stories.

That’s how this subsection of the paper works, like a professor with a wide spectrum of knowledge, fulfilling my curiosities every single day, enriching my life, adding more fun to my ordinary days.

I’m grateful for the editor of the subsection of the papers, to allow the readers, to read in their, separate corners, to know what’s going on all around us, to get soaked up in the wonders, of interactions of words of exchange.

And so, this, is a sort of a thank you note this writer wrote to the subsection of the papers, and, surely, this subsection of the papers, offered a wide variety of reading materials for those who are interested in finding out new things they want to find out, it has the experiences of others we can borrow from, and, it’s just, an amazing section of the UDN papers here.

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Expectations, Fiction Writing, Life, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Social Awareness, Social Issues, Socialization, Writing

Tagged as ,

September 30, 2021 · 3:14 am

The Balloons of, Goodwill

Noting and knowing what you wrote, that got printed, touched a reader’s heart, that was, enough for you, as a writer!  Translated…

As a person who works with words, I’d been writing, for decades to date, and, I’d been, submitting my articles to the papers for over a quarter of a century to date.  Like the sediments accumulated in the riverbanks, left behind, the pages of my, drafting papers too, and I’d recalled what a writer once said to me, she didn’t know where her readers are.

It’s also these couple of years, I’d met some new friends on FB, they’d read my book, I can see what they looked like too, knew the goings on of their lives, but, through the responses forwarded to me from the papers by my readers, there were, only, two.  (both were sent to me by the editor of the Family subsection)  One was an email, the other, a handwritten letter, with the postage stamps on the envelope, passing through the back counters of a post office, separated, along with the mail carrier’s sweat, and finally, arrived, at the editor’s office.

What was odd was, included, was a pack of black beans, and Mexican primrose-willow, for my cats.  The woman was Ms. Liu, at a time in her life, she’d read my articles which I’d written on my cats, knew that my cats started urinating blood out, recalled how her own old cat once had kidney disease too, and from someone else, she learned that drinking the water from black beans and Mexican primrose-willow can help that it could heal, and it actually, did, for her cat, and ever since, she’d, tried helping the cat owners she’d come across with such a problem.

In her letter, not only did she introduced the origins, the sources of the herbs, and described in close detail how the items should be cooked, how to keep it, how to feed it to my cat.  The words were so genuine, as I read, I saw her heart of, compassion, leapt onto the pages, alive, and warm.

But unfortunate, I was living in the U.S. then, and got the article printed out on the papers after my cat had died, and so, I’d, not made used of that pack of remedies.  The editor of the subsection of the papers sent a photo of that package of medication to me, asked me how I wanted to reply back?  I’d thought for a night, saw that there was a phone number listed, I’d decided to call to say thanks, and, if the individual refused to take my call for any reason, then, I can only, write my thank-you note to the editor of the paper’s subsection, and have him pass it along.

like, this???

查看來源圖片
photo from online

Ring~~~!, the following day, I’d gotten the phone going, then, about to talk to a strange reader, I’d felt, a bit, nervous.  The call was, picked up, “hello!”, it was a woman, with a full-volume of voice, I’d quickly stated my name, and told her why I’d called, and, worried she might thought that I was a scam artist.  And immediately, she’d, believed me, and, I’d, asked her permissions to allow the editor to give the remedies to someone else in need, which she’d, gladly, agreed.  An overseas call, a short conversation, and yet, the balloons of goodwill, started, soaring high, underneath, that sunny sky then.

This time, I’d known since I was younger, that I was going to, be a person who makes a living off of my words, and finally, I’d, become, just that too.  with the blood of a word cooker, word lover inside of my veins.  And although, I’d become stagnant, and caught dead, in the solitude of the literary, but quickly enough I’d discovered, that so long as I can still breathe, my feelings are still, flowing, the words shall, never die in me.  As for the readers, I’d come to believe, that the readers are, quiet, and, maybe, they’re, outside of the realms of the kudos I’d received.  Just as I’m also, a silent, unknown reader, to another’s, work too.

The internet is a brand new world within the world, a poem, an essay, a novel, met and mingled in the vast oceans of various medium, sinking, floating, drowning, dying, or, stand out among the rest.  Whether or not I’m noted, I know, that the only thing staying with me, would be, the words.

Then, I shall, keep on, writing then.  Yeah, the final line of my favorite novel stated it that way: writing, the journey, continues on.

And so, this is through the interactions with your readers, and knowing, how what you wrote gained a response, from that, certain someone else, you KNOW that your writings had, had an affect in someone else’s life, made her/him, response, and it didn’t matter if you’re an acclaimed author, with the books published or not, you’d, become, fulfilled, knowing, that what you wrote had, had an effect, on someone else’s, life.

Leave a comment

Filed under A Cycle of Kindness, Helping Behaviors, Interpersonal Relations, Kindness Shown, Life, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Writing

Tagged as ,

March 4, 2021 · 4:05 am

A Brighter, Ordinary, Day, a Poem

What’s, left, behind, translated…

The Wavelength that Passed Through the Collar of the Asteroid Belt of the Aging Dog of the Astronomer

The Blue Whale’s Lowered Whispers with the Trashed Submarine

Gave the Bay a Glow

I Lifted My Head up to the Darkness

Who Was it

That Forgot, to Turn the Lights within Our Bodies, Off

On the Shoulders of the General

That Invisible Kitty, Pounced on the Firing Squad from Before He Was, Still, Living

(The Songs of Sorrows from the Beginning

The Assets Immaterial in the Very End)

These Stanzas of the Poems, Shall Get Beyond What’s Been Destroyed Between You & Me, Sailing, All the Way, into, the, Skies

And so, this is on what’s left, after everything go, BOOM!  What remained, of the love, of the life that’s, gone, what is taken from the examples of these lives, lived………

Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Lessons, Letting Go, Life, On Death & Dying, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Poetry, Properties of Life, Translated Work, Writing

Tagged as

December 30, 2019 · 3:49 am

Plucking These Numbers

The philosophies, from an everyday, encounter, translated…

“If you stand beneath the fig tree, I’ll, see you.”

“If you see me, then, I shall, go with god.”

“Do you believe?”

“I absolutely, DO, and I absolutely, DON’T, either way, I shall have my, freedom.”

“There are too many places that squirrels buried those nuts, and the worst case scenario, if a squirrel forgets, then, a walnut tree will start growing from the ground up.”

“I shall go with God to the walnut tree.”

“How can you believe what I say?”

“Because you’re, smiling.”

“I’m not smiling, I’m, a flower.”

And so, this, is how easily, you can, be fooled, into believe something that someone claims, because you lacked that strong sense of your selves…you start following that “leader”, with the blindfolds on!

Leave a comment

Filed under Fate, Lessons, Life, Philosophies of Life, Story-Telling, Writing

March 19, 2018 · 2:20 am

The Air, My Friend

The column by Jimi Liao, translated…

I Heard His Cries

I Felt His Despair

I’d Touched His Sorrows

I’d, Closed the Book

He’d, Vanished So Suddenly

Then, Immediately, Came to Me Again

And so, this showed, how the pen IS, mightier than the SWORD, the words touched people, even AFTER they’re done, getting spoken out there, and the influences of words will keep on carrying over…

Leave a comment

Filed under Awareness, Childhood, Coping Mechanisms, Creative Writing, Despair, Growing Up Too Fast, Lessons, Life, Moods, Emotions, & Feelings, Observations, Values, Writing

Tagged as ,