i stand there plucking all my thorns,
the wildflowers bloomed from my scars
i collected the red ink dripping from
my pricked fingers
and wrote a symphony for
the one who has lost it all
the one who knows it all,
the one who is my inner child
and the hymn of girlhood...
This little book is an ode to all the dreaming souls who found their solace in ink stained sheets, and peace on pages, who scribble on the stars, wishing on fireflies thinking they are shooting stars. A collection of the whirlwind of her love, laugh, pain, hurting, sorrows of her past years, her happiness and tears in shape of words. All the unsung emotions she pourd on a paper.
this little book is her heart, hold it with care, it has a lot to give