When the witch did come to town, she’d moan, she’d groan, she’d grunt, she’d frown. From those wrinkly hands her finger it wagged, as she opened her beak, and began to nag. You see I call her a witch, she’s just an old lady, but whenever she spoke, it was more than shady. There would never be anyone…
21 - Birmingham, UK
I’m a Copywriter in Advertising, swanning around the second city attempting to ‘adult,’ whilst maintaining a Peter Pan perspective on growing up.
I’m a passionate writer and poet, and I guess you label this as a coming of age blog. If coming of age means one minute sharing my deepest hopes and dreams, the next spent penning a (not so) passive aggressive piece about how I will never, ever understand the fuckboy.
Moving on up, royally cocking things up and everything in between, I'm finding myself in the adult world. Care to join? x