An addict's mother crying, as the day begins. Endless prayers are rising, her hope speaks to win. But battles are not owned by mothers on the side. And gloves may be on, but never touch the fight.
An addict's mother crying, as the day begins. Endless prayers are rising, her hope speaks to win. But battles are not owned by mothers on the side. And gloves may be on, but never touch the fight.
Reflections from the Threshold of Reason and Feeling
A place where I post unscripted, unedited, soulless rants of a insomniac madman
Code with Smooth Strokes
Retro Gaming, Positive Fatherhood, Proudly South African
Quiet the Chaos, Honor Your Story
My experiences in regards to travel and everything in between.
Humanity is excitedly reaching out 🌍 to embrace new times! 🎉
| Just Me Traversing Through the Wilderness of an Everyday Mess and Finding Beauty From Ashes and a Little Grace Along the Way |
Reflections on Life through poetry, essays and photos