Last updated: 4 hours ago
Just a wandering soul with ink-stained hands and a head full of noise.
A storyteller lost between circus tents and confession booths.
I turn pain into rhythm, fear into poetry, and chaos into something you can dance to.
I write for the restless, the haunted, the ones who feel too much and speak too little.
A storyteller lost between circus tents and confession booths.
I turn pain into rhythm, fear into poetry, and chaos into something you can dance to.
I write for the restless, the haunted, the ones who feel too much and speak too little.
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