adriangarcia

I have to say I liked this story, and this kind of story really isn't my cup of tea. However, I did like it. However ... The first paragraph is ...

Bach is bright but you are brighter leafing through history in the wrong way. Your eyes are nice when left unrubbed and there are no drugs a perfect "o" in ...

I like this poem a lot. You tread on very thin water. You could have made a very angst, emotional poem with absolutely no base; however, you somehow managed to ...

Very interesting! You had me from beginning to end! Which, I'll let you know, is an accomplishment since I usually loose interest half-way through! Grammar was lackluster. Content was exciting. ...

Well-written and executed. I applaud the side note notifying readers of your inspiration and including a visual. I thought the two paralleled quite beautifully. The French blended nicely and it ...

Myths lie. BY Adrian Myths lie. They are thieves and highwaymen that rob and steal knowledge and reasonability of men. They are, in truth, stories that should never be uttered. ...

Will we not stand up? For kids wallowing in poverty? While we are complaining about food ready to be consumed, They try convincing themselves that hunger does not exist. We ...

It is a typo in the PM. Sorry about that. Your welcome, Adrian

She chose to walk alone the others watched in a distance she wished she were a bird so she can fly away the others whispered about her some claimed she ...

First of all, I'm not going to comment on a pen name. I prefer you keeping YOUR name. But, that's just me. :) Second of all, I really like this ...

Very refreshing. I enjoyed it immensely. Criticism ... Some words upset the flow of the poem. It almost makes it come to a halt. But, like I said, I enjoyed ...

There is a little monster that creeps into your mind. It sits upon a block that reads, “I take my time.” When you're not looking, it searches for your writing. ...

Trying to write something, I am sitting in my study Looking for inspiration, I find scrunched up papers on the ground, The ink in my pen is running dry, the ...

Faux replaces where reality once dwelled as I pray, that one day, my time will come. The nights when I’m supposed to be sleeping, are spent dreaming about Mr. Anonymous; ...

This is, at best, an OK poem. Take away the angst and what do you have? Try editing this later. You might find that this poem exists solely on emotion ...