My ScarDo you remember the day our lives turned around?My Scar by TheStorytellersRose
Do you remember that awful sound?
The sound of silence between best friends,
The day our friendship met a dead end.
Do you recall our crazy past,
And how we became friends so fast?
What about how quickly we turned away?
I hated you so much that day.
My trust in you had begun to fade,
My sunny life, swallowed in deep shade.
Even though our wounds have sealed,
There's a scar that hasn't healed.
We may have had a rough past,
But our friendship will forever last.
Stop putting words in my mouthYou shove your fingersStop putting words in my mouth by Tangled-Tales
down my throat,
and insert words
I never spoke,
in desperate hopes
to make me choke
my pearly gates
that feeds me
520 points give away!i am give away 520 points for free520 points give away! by Nao-Dignity
How can you get them? Here are the rules:
1. You need to be my watcher.
2. You need to fave this journal (You'll get a number, which I will use to determine the winner, via www.random.org/ )
3. You need to fave this photo:
The deadline for this giveaway is 10-2-2014 join and win!
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.Poetic Psychosis by C-A-Harland
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
longdead leafa longdead leaflongdead leaf by Ghrey
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body