Without poetry, stories would be told in sepia.

Real love shouldn't be disposable.

I really have to wonder who or what made Daddy become this way. Babies aren't born cruel or filled with sick desire. Evil is not intrinsic. It's fashioned.

The more I think about it, the more I believe there has to be a subtle yet satisfying method of revenge.

This time when we kiss, I feel it in the pit of my stomach, I feel it in my heart. And I realize love isn't about sex. It's about connection.

Learning by example is valid, but when you have the information to know that turning in a certain direction can lead you to a very wrong place, most of the "blame" is on the individual.

As I thought about that, I had to wonder: What will we know better about tomorrow? Who cares? Hindsight is useless.