This throat's been dry for years.
These lungs still scream for air.
And slamming door and breaking glass
can't cover up the tears.
These words mean nothing.
But nothing changes,
and in five more years,
we still won't be heard.
I'm still screaming
Resolution
Writer's Block
By Now
We Were
We'll Always Have Paris
Picking Up The Pieces
Ante Up
Fractures
Where The Heart Is
Writer's Block
Critical Thought
Post Script
Ante Up
Where The Heart Is
(Re) Acquaintance
Past The Stars
Resolution
By Now
Rough Draft (An Explanation)
Four Years Too Late