We were fated, Destined, To meet, Fall in Love, Soar, As one. Grow old together, Sitting on our front porch, Smiling through the years, Giggling like children, As age, And time, Passed by. We still will, I will find our…
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Vladislas Nikilovic
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Writers…born not in the Halls of Education…but in the fires of necessity. Masters not of prose, form, language, or a perceived command of the Art. The scream, the release, the venting, the exquisite song, becomes, the Art, the Dance, the Symphony. A drive, to unburden, release, free…the screams that torment, them, you, and me. Write to live, live to write,…
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Vladislas Nikilovic
