I’ve had this feeling a long time ago And I hated it So it was sealed away Within me it all started to crumble I’ve got a feeling , it is hidden deep inside I’ve got this feeling that I can’t hide anymore Please believe me I hate for him to take them away Everybody had a bad day but he was laying there He smiled as the others around cried I was the only one, the only one that smiled for him Everyone had a good year Everyone let sometime ago their head down But now its not the time to frown I’ve got this feeling I can’t express I want to laugh and cry But my heart and brain do not know why I will miss their laughter, their voice The expression on their faces I will never forget them And this feeling deep inside It will stay there because that feeling is the feeling of love The family love, the love I feel for you all.
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.
Family. That’s what we’ve grown to be. From once not knowing each other’s names, To all being able to take the blame. The past 3 years, We’ve grown to become who we are, From the people that surround us. Our
A thirsty town fails, harvesting the moon, and turns into a vast lake of tears. They were fighting for their right to remain poor and hungry. It was a fractured amnesia in the pit of flesh. Was it a pink
Open Imagination flew from my hands bringing sunlight into play Rapture of fire beams flew across the crop planted in the fields Love was a place I knew nothing about It did come within my parents Each had been an
It’s an orchestra of various instruments, Mixing and remixing with eastern and western, Indian and Arabian, Persian and Spanish A real symphony, of matching with matchless, The union of hard and soft, with Strings and Skins. Music of rain, the