“my face shows it rough, the thoughts are enough; I write to not bluff what my head makes up.” This is my POETRY book so it’s not an actual story but they’re the poems I write from time to time. Hope you Enjoy :)
It's where all the once alluring trees,
now begin to splinter.
And every graceful leaf known in existence,
begins to crust and whither.
It's a harsh and dreary forest,
that angrily delivers,
A petrified deer that spends the cold, cold winter.