The enchanted forest has become a toxic wasteland. Any sign of magic and wonder was poisoned by the murky waters of human consumption. The vicious river that came from the factories blossomed new life into the trees. But a life that was neither thriving nor dying. The leaves talked to
poem
If I am to die, I would only regret not losing my sense of taste, then I wouldn’t have known the taste of poverty. If only I were a butterfly that survives on mud puddles, blood, or sweat. But instead, hunger eats me from the inside out, gnawing the
short story
Vast lands outstretched for miles with nothing in sight. During the winters, the snow fades into the sky and it’s like living within a dandelion. The only color that gives this atmosphere life, is the lone Sakura, that resides in the middle of these lands, far from society. Some