[tabby title="Poem"] A hundred years of broken dreamsUnfulfilled promises we’ve kept to ourselvesOf milk and honey, flowing in streamsThese breaths we’ve held, these hopes we’ve shelvedOur lost garden, paradise prophesiedDo we dare to envision our lost treasure?We come from death...

[tabby title="Poem"] Sometimes I worry I'm too quiet or too nervousBut I don't know any other way to beI'm tired and worried I'm doing the wrong thingLiving the wrong wayGoing to art galleries aloneSitting by myself watching the grassWaiting for...