NO.

NO.

A hot tear rolled down my cheek as I worked to straighten my twisted frown and fake a shred of composure. I had told myself I wasn’t going to cry. I saw a wince dance across Coach Miles’ face as his eyes began to redden, as well. I stared into the watering...
The Distance of A Smile

The Distance of A Smile

I have never enjoyed running distance. I have always favored sprinting. Quick, sharp, concise movements. Immediate gratification. Immediate results. Fine-tuning my reaction time and response has always been far more appealing to me than building up my endurance and...
Clay In the Potter’s Hands: a poem of trust

Clay In the Potter’s Hands: a poem of trust

I am but clay in the potter’s hands, a mass amongst many in the workshop of life. Formless and shapeless, no use or demands, simple and naive, unfamiliar to strife. To my left rest many, resembling me, but they’re hardened and drying, crumbling in state....