Tamika > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

Black nails, match black souls. Blacking out words, like memories. Black thoughts, and black holes.

Rain dances on a tin roof. The pitter patter of their delicate shoes; create a tune like rhythm and blues. Nature is an artist, and this is ..

The wind howls. The tree's dance. A winter's day, at a glance. The cold air pierces. The hard rain stains. There's lighting in the sky,..

Grey eyes. Hidden behind is a life of eighty nine years long. Grey eyes. They speak, for her tone is now gone. Grey eyes. They tell the s..

I am an anchor, so heavy with emotions that I am bound to sink. You my darling, you're a boat. You keep me above water, you keep me from dr..

In this house of mirrors where fear is distorted, lingers the sound of nervous laughs and quiet tears. The walls show versions of reality that ar..

Some people are simply seasons, there for a few months before they no sooner go away. Others are like a drought, or a flood. There for a long..

What happens to us when we die? Do we just in fact rot six feet below, under a blanket of dirt? Or does our soul fly to heights we have never k..

Walk amidst chaos in the understanding that one day time will self destruct.

The air is filled with sweet rhythmic stories, and I sit to your music and ponder all of life's glories. You play songs full of passion, never..