A poem, is just a song waiting to be sung. So let me hear you sing.
- Alexandra Pierotti.
Not Your Average Pretty.
Tired of looking for love in All the wrong places, I was able to find myself. Able to appreciate myself For all of who I am, who I've al...
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Snow, snow, on the wall, Would you like to play at all? Where each delicate flake of Yours doeth fall, I will pick you Up and hold you gent... -
I spend my simple Summer days, Down by the well. The gentle hypnotic, satisfying trickle of water, Has me stuck under a trance that is its V... -
Tired of the Royal life, she snuck out of the Palace gates, kicked off her high heeled shoes and fled bare footed into the bushy overgrowth ...
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