He is so talented!
Creative Writing and Mental Health
Bored. Bored beyond belief. Bored to tears. I grab my trainers and go for a walk. Bored of the terraced houses. And semi-similar hatchbacks parked out-side semi-similar houses. Not so bored as clouds step aside and allow the sun to pour down on me. I grab my chance and sit on a bench in a graveyard. Restless. The bench a commemoration to a young man gone too soon. Bored. Of people passing by and people passing away. Headstones line the neatly mown grass and fresh flowers adorn the sides of headstones. They tilt towards the names of the deceased. Bored ghosts. Wandering amidst the stones waiting for the ice cream van to come along. Its shrilling tune like a kaleidoscopic waterfall across their soul-sensitive auras. The children rush and so do the ghosts. A 99 flake. A double-blob on a large cone. A twister. Dig deep into…
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