Khronos, god of time,
A sacrifice I present,
To change the clock's hands.
How does it work?
More stories from Victoria Turnbull and writers in Poets and other communities.
Dirt beneath our nails, Victorious we all stand, Terra we defend.
By Victoria Turnbull3 years ago in Poets
For all of you, Who were betrayed, Hurt, Used, And abused; I was there once, Falling down a dark, Bottomless pit, With no light
By Carol Ann Townend6 days ago in Poets
Verse 1 Cinnamon was shackled in the corner of the dream, Bound by threads of memory the daylight couldn’t clean.
By Julie O'Hara - Author, Poet and Spiritual Warrior5 days ago in Poets
There is a chronic ache in the soul of a single parent. It lingers, feeling endless. This ache feels so difficult, especially when you look at other families. They seem so… whole. They seem so joyful and complete. There is a husband and a wife and children in a stroller. Thinking about your single state, you realize how awkward you feel, how out of place at various functions and gatherings. They are all happily together and you’re miserably alone. Disappointment with the current life circumstances just settles in to stay, or so it feels. How could these layers of disappointment be broken up anyhow?
By Rowan Finley 5 days ago in Humans
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