Few of my million daily thoughts, stories, and poems survive the battles in my head and make it to this blog.
Help me give them a louder voice.
(All poems are written by me, you can call me Zee)
Maybe it was the lack of throne that made him uneasy
He sat on an elevated chair
Screaming at his subjects
Alas the king was a child
Poet, making sense of war, humanity, love and greed. Trying to find the magic in ordinary things.
I am Zee