Caged InWho would have thought the years being locked in a cage would be the happiest time of my life?Caged In1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
I used to dream about gliding- my wings spread wide as I rode the breeze over a horizon that went on forever. I would wake in the dark and scream out in frustration, hoping that someday I could sing my real song.
The nights became longer and the dreams became unwelcome. You see, when I'm too caged in, fantasies are more like nightmares, taunting me, teasing me; a blatant reminder of what I can never have.
It was all I wanted. It was everything.
I escaped the first time the opportunity presented itself. Barreling through the unlocked door, I ran down the table and leaped through the open window with wings unfurled. I sang then, the sweetest noise I have ever made.
Until I fell.
I had never truly experienced the sensation of falling. It wasn't as peaceful as I imagined. It was terrifying.
I thought flying would come easy. I thought I would simply beat-be
This Is For YouThis is for you.This Is For You1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
This is for you, who would always say that you weren't 'good enough'
This is for you, who would always wish that you were as good as them.
Sometimes, you throw your pencil across the room in frustration when you realize that you'll never be an artist.
Remember when you told yourself that art was a passion that you would never let go?
But yet, it's slipping between your fingers, right now.
You want, so desperately, to be an accomplished artist.
But you never believe in yourself.
It's painful, I know.
But isn't art worth it?
Maybe you just don't know the meaning of being an artist.
It doesn't matter what you do, or how skilled you are.
The fact that you love art, is all that matters; and that's what makes you a true artist.
Don't you remember your art bringing you so much joy?
Now, it seems to do the complete opposite.
It seems like demons are haunting you, telling you that you're 'not good enough'.
You want to know what I say to tha
Free FallingFree Falling1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The wind was frigid as ice. Sharp as razors. Coupled with the delirium of being amongst the clouds, she felt more alive than she ever did on the ground.
"Ready?" The deep voice crept into her ears.
"Aye," she gasped. They were higher than they'd ever been. Her body shook as much from want of air as it did the cold. She dug her nails into the dragon's pale scales and stood on weak legs.
She stared up at the sun. So close, she could almost touch it. She smiled as its warmth cut through the cold air.
She lifted her arms up as high as she could.
Not close enough.
The sky grew hazy. Blue to grey where there were no clouds.
Time to go.
"I'll be waiting," he rumbled.
Of course he would.
Pain rushed through her veins. Her body warning her of the fall.
Plummeting. The razors were knives now. The cold burned.
The clean air filling her lungs more and more until she could see straight. Blood rushing to her head.
The icy ocean below grew focused. Another surge of
Chapel WindowThe parish waits nowChapel Window1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
in wind-chip and scuff,
the loneliness of corners
crawling outward on walls;
cobwebs align them
like the membranes of memories,
the cut of a jewel in a broken window;
through the rain
gathering in a mesh of strands
a new Mosaic
my eyes seek out the sermon,
paint no distance
between headstone and cloud;
elegies topple each other
in their climb to heaven
as light beams shear the shade,
heave a new glow by candles,
measure the weight in these empty rows
as if something came bearing down
on the silence that never ceased being prayer.
Mold Greg was cleaning behind his toilet on a Friday when a voice came from within the wall.Mold3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Hey!" the voice said. "Look, I give, all right? I'm coming out!" Greg watched as a stream of black-and-white goo poured out of a crack near where he'd been scrubbing. It smelled of mildew, and, when enough of it came out, formed itself into the shape of a man.
"What are you?" Greg asked, looking up at its globby face.
"I'm the mold that lived behind your toilet," it said, "and I'm here to be your friend."
"Because I didn't develop self-awareness without reason, and you're a loser who cleans his bathroom on a Friday. Get your keys; we're going to the park."
Greg drove. They went to the basketball courts and the mold won in one-on-one against Greg. Twice.
"You need to exercise more," it said. "
We are all energyWe are all energy.We are all energy5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Everything built up by the same basic particles. Atoms.
But yet we are so different? we push everything and everyone away from us because of it.
Yet, on the tiniest scale we're just the same?
Why is this? We need to ask ourselves why do we ignore the fact that we are all the same?
The choices we take, have an effect, Its not random. From every choice we make, the paths have already been there for us to take. Millions of these paths exist, but we get to choose which one we want to follow.
Energy exist in everything, it cant be removed, only moved into a new or different form.We are all full of it.
You are a lot more powerfull than you may think.
Many believe the earth as we know it has evolved in just a few thousand years. We got a lot of new things and easier ways to survive, thats really most of it.
Is life about surviving without problems?Is that what we are trying to make of this world?
No, we all know that is impossible. We all have problems, and its not the thin
paper hearts. Theres a crevice in the wall where she hides her little baby girl, all plastic smiles and mechanical giggles. She cuddles it like it has a soul and speaks to it like it has a name. Its soft rubber skin has been covered with paper hearts and marker stars, and its little plastic ears have been filled with whispers of adoration and love. Its wiry blonde hair has been crossed into braids, twisted up above its head, and she has pulled a dress onto its synthetic body with the brightest little smile. She reminds it that its beautiful, even though it cant hear. She fastens it tight into the beaten pink stroller and skips behind it as it rolls across the pavement, dancing in the sun like there is no tomorrow and yesterday is only a dream.paper hearts.6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
And maybe she's only six years old, but she knows how babies are made. Not the ones you buy in the store, the ones you have to tear out of the cru
Portal 2 - TomorrowOn her first working day, Caroline was overwhelmed with activity.Portal 2 - Tomorrow1 year ago in General Fiction More Like This
Illusions had never been an habit of hers; all along, in between the internships and the extra courses, she had guessed. She knew way before crossing that doorstep as an employee, for the first of countless times to come — no previous experience in the world could have fully prepared her for Aperture Science.
The place was already enormous, yet not enough for its ambitions. She had to notice, with attentive eyes, the tiniest details that fell under her gaze. She followed the unraveling of a vast net — it was made of lies and truth, of balance and mistakes, so fragile that it could be torn anytime by a single breath.
The good impression she left behind at work could not spare her nerves. When she met the sight of her home in the evening, it felt as if whole years had passed — she was a different person, tired in an entirely different way.
She stared at the darkness, swimming in a tangle of thoughts. She
MethuselahLike your predecessor you're destined to live long.Methuselah1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Destined to fly the canopies of Africa,
The conductor of your own orchestra.
But destiny plays no part in your life.
Passed from saint to saint,
You make a home out of your cage.
What would have been hymns
Turned to echoes of your jailers.
Their efforts to make you holy fail
As you paint portraits of their misery and pains.
This cage has crippled you.
Broken your wings.
Denied you your right to flight and truth.
You're the wreck your mother land's become.
Forced to live utopia surrounded by bars.
Looking at the horizon with a curtain in your face.
On a fateful afternoon, your sentence is over.
Your jailer sets you free.
But what does free mean?
He throws you into the air.
What little instinct you have left
Drives you to open your wings.
With struggle you flutter like freedom itself.
But what now?
The iron roads that surrounded you
Have become your bones.
Your true home a bad nightmare.
You run back back to your prison,
When I Shall DieWhen I shall dieWhen I Shall Die1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I ask not for a coffin
To display my mortal body
To the Earth beneath.
I ask not for a funeral
A celebration of my life and memory
Though both would be soon forgotten
I ask not for roses nor lilies
To slowly rot away in coherence with me.
When I shall die
I merely ask for a stone
With my name etched onto its soul
And of this stone I beg,
To remember me
Remember I was here , that I existed,
For all eternity.
Among all thisWe spin through this expanding space,Among all this5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
An ever changing human race,
When stars are born and quickly die,
I ask myself what am I.
When planets expand, collide, explode,
And no one down here even knows,
How can I, so small and weak,
Expect a god that does not speak,
To stop and help a creature show,
A universe that she can grow.
But even if I grow, stand and speak,
This creature will still prove too weak,
When stars are born and quickly die,
And planets collide beyond the sky,
Down here many don't spare a thought,
Where answers are by many bought,
Who am I among all this,
But one to sit and reminisce.
Hate Sleeping AloneEach nightHate Sleeping Alone1 year ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I lay in bed...
Letting my covers
Try to keep me warm
Though they're never
As warm as your arms.
Letting my dreams
Try to soothe me
Into a deathly calm
Though they're never
As calming as your
Letting hundreds of sheep
Try to caress my eyes
To finally close
Though they shall never
In the way your gentle hand
In mine will.
And while the covers may try
They will never fill the place
Where you slept beside me.
My dreams will never
Fill the emptiness left
Without your breathe.
The sheep will never
Lift me away
Like the comfort of knowing
That your near me
And that you
Will be the first thing I see
When I wake
And each night I stay awake
Because without you
I'd rather not sleep.
For There Is A Girl...There is a girl who does not fit in.For There Is A Girl...8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
She couldn't be more different
In the society she was raised in;
She thinks the exact opposite.
She finds it odd that two girls
Cannot dance the way a man and
She finds it odd that those being
Accused of horrible acts are being
Accused by people who have done worse.
She finds it odd that there are
Signs and campaigns for allowing
She finds it odd that being a
Woman means you are weak
And it is an insult to be called
In the society she is in,
She is different.
For there is a girl who does not
Why two people of the same
Cannot marry. Why one group of people
By another that is far worse.
There is a girl that cannot
Why words are offensive or
People use them. She cannot
Why, as a woman, she is not
To wear what she wants without being
If she is white, then she is racist.
If she is black, then she is a criminal.
If she is straight, then she is homophobic.
That's So Gay"That's so gay,"That's So Gay1 week ago in Free Verse More Like This
Is what you say,
You've pushed one
Of your friends away.
"Oh no, honey,
Boys don't play
With Barbie dolls."
By enforcing gender roles,
You are killing
And telling them
That you'll love them no matter what*
Don't push your loved ones
With things you do or say,
Because words hurt;
But they hurt most
From the mouths of
The people that told you,
They'd always love you.
Saying, "that's so gay",
Or making them behave
In a gendered way,
Is telling them
That it's not okay
To be something
They can't help.
(And even if they could,
And it will hurt them
And every time you're together,
They'll be wondering;
"Am I wrong?"
"Do I really belong?"
Every time you say something like,
"That's so gay",
You burn someone's trust away.
And you can't build anything back
Fan Fiction for the UnconvincedThis is an attempt at an informal essay on fan fiction, by a middle-aged woman who reads and enjoys fan fiction. It won’t really be a balanced argument—I will be concentrating more on what I see as the positive aspects of the genre. I’ll be using mainly examples from the Sherlock fandom, that being the fandom I’m most familiar with. (There will be some spoilers, especially for series 3, so if you haven’t seen the series yet and you intend to, it might be wise to give this essay a miss.)Fan Fiction for the Unconvinced1 year ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Why do I read fan fiction? The basic reason is exactly the same reason I read anything—some of it is of astounding quality. I think fan fiction is often saddled with the image of being written solely by beginners and being uniformly terrible. But it’s like any other kind of fiction. You have beginners, you have the competent, you have the talented and experienced. The very best fan fiction writers write at a professional standard; the very best sto
While It BurnsWhy does a moth flyWhile It Burns1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Directly into the flame?
Perhaps its captivated
By the beauty to be found
In such pure recreation
It flies so surely
Into its own death
Because it believes
The flames of rebirth
Will allow it a second chance
And perhaps that this time...
It will appear a butterfly.
Perhaps this is the only thing
It can force itself to believe
While it burns.
It's NotIt's not the lipstick glossIt's Not8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
that makes a kiss
the warm pulse beating through
It's not their size
but the words they whisper,
It's not the color
nor the length
nor the glint
of her hair
that makes her special
it is her smile
in the falling rain
reflecting the joy
of yet another Spring,
It's not the time
she spent getting beautiful
that makes her so
but in fact
it is the hours
she was besides my bed
when I was sick
and in fact
it is the minutes
I could hear her breathe
in my embrace
AND in fact
it is the seconds
I saw her cry
(out of happiness)
Because she's beautiful.
It's not the clothes,
nor the jewellery,
nor the colored nails,
nor the drawn-in brows,
nor the words she says
to other people,
and neither it is
It is her mind
that entertains my poems,
it is her charm
that paints my cheeks
and averts my shy eyes from her
It is her soul,
that I love.
I'm in love with a painterYou are the painter who streaks rainbows onto my lungs,I'm in love with a painter8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
who stains chalks onto my rib cage.
And every time I see you
I get so
o u t
b r e a t h.
I'm in love with a painter
DragonslayerIn the land of Pyrûn, an exporter of leadDragonslayer2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Ruled by a king (who’s extremely inbred)
Homeland of giants, but the giants are dead
So the towns are beset by a dragon instead
You can only burn down and eat all a man’s stuff
So many times before he’ll say, “Enough!
It’s time for the dragon to see that we’re tough,
Our knight will extinguish that piteous Puff!”
So out rode their champion, in gleaming steel armour
Bearing his shield with its heraldic llama
To be the right hand of the force they call Karma
(At this point it’s safe to assume there’ll be drama)
Up the Mountain of Dread, it’s Obsidian Stair
He choked on the poison of fresh alpine air
As he approached the black Cave of Despair:
The prime real estate of the great dragon’s lair
“Hark, scaly one! Beast of fire, come forth!”
Challenged the knight from the back of his horse
“You raze all our homes and you show no remorse
So our judgement upon you I
You Remind MeYou remind me that I'm broken.You Remind Me1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
You remind me that I'm depressed.
You remind me that I hate myself.
You remind me that sometimes I want to just stop living...
But you know what?
You also remind me...
...That I am unique.
...That I have a gift.
...That I can change the world.
...That I am beautiful.