Stay true to you Stay away from the other you Don’t lie and you wont ever cry Don’t do the things you shouldn’t do And don’t feel troubled about the things you did or want to do Stay strong, don’t stare to long Life passes by in a second, so don’t throw it away Go on a walk, find someone that you can really talk to And be the best you, so don’t just stare Share the love and show that you care.
Srdjan Solkotovic(Srđan Šolkotović) is a young aspiring author born on the 6th of January, 1993. Currently owner of The Writing Hut and literature student, a writer born in Serbia, raised by multinational parents (Serbian/Wallachian father and Romanian mother).The first time I was interested in writing was around the age of 12. It seemed fun to create worlds that people enjoyed to read about. Writers are amazing, creating with only pen and paper. Like playing god.Most of my works are of a poetic nature but I have written and published some erotica. Now I have a few projects that I will work on and I hope that you will enjoy reading them when they are finished.
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Greatest Show on Earth We’ve got Daredevils, acrobats and clowns dishing out the mirth” Somewhere speakers crackle to life and a record plays “Ra da da da da da da da da da” The
Sever The strings Heart Stuffed and stitched Black as the crow A wooden figurine In a one man puppet show The audience Seated Indian style In front of the stage Their laughter And cheers Eat away at Him Like a
Measure not the sincerity of friends, Time will show you worth of all, Those with you in cheers and delight, Probably won’t answer to your call, When you’re in trouble or lagging behind, Most of them’ll fly and flee. Lose
The noise of a crescent climbs wordlessly. In the night of dew and wind, for its native starless beams- holding the thread of a thought, walking through wall of disbelief. Before and after the murder of a spark; the heart
They’re playing jazz in Leavenworth, ersatz Bavarian tourist trap of Washington State, a brittle-fingered quartet sentenced to the cellar of a failed Bierpalast fake snow sweating down the cinder block walls. the musicians don’t care; music coats their stomachs extra