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.e. I'd rather not (and I'd also like to fly too).
I’m a passionate writer and poet, and on this blog you'll find personal essays, book reviews, pieces about mental health, travel, poetry and much more.
Moving on up, royally cocking things up and everything in between, I'm finding myself in the adult world. Care to join? x