I don't write to be understood.
I write because the silence was killing me.
My words aren't gentle. They're jagged.
I carve with ink what I can't say out loud.
Love, rage, lust, betrayal .. I lace them in velvet and let them bleed on the page.
Idon't believe in perfect endings.
I believe in scars that speak.
In obsession that hums beneath the surface.
In surrender that tastes like power.
I am not here to entertain.
I'm here to expose. To echo. To haunt.
Read me, and you'll feel it 
Not just the story.
But the sting.
The fire.
The chain.