Joker
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Just a lie, Once jovial, with a crooked smile. Now wanting to lie Down on the brick surface, And face the sky Wanting to die. Because the world could not shy Away from my mask. They merely gasped, They merely whispered What they were glimpsing And who they were glancing With such a blow as
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If non-fiction is defined as the recount of a specific event that occurred in reality, then just how much creativity can be attributed to a real occurrence, before it becomes fiction? As in, the truth must be nothing but the truth, and if this is a fact, then where is the line for the creativity?
Modern Romanticism 