back then,i was a wildflower girl,back then,1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
(battle the mountain,
savor the rain.)
2 am, this is when i miss you most, because
i am not atlas,
i cannot carry the world
on my shoulders,
in the darkness,
in my shadows,
so i will just tell myself
to hang onto
hope, because i have nothing left anymore, not even
the boy who tasted my name
like sucre on his lips, not even
the boy who knew
every inch of me
in the moonlight,
Beautiful.They say I’m beautifulBeautiful.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Because of the way my crystalline heart reflects light off its fractured surface
Well, that isn't a reflection
It’s rejection of the light because it’s all too much to handle
Throw myself away into the dark without even a candle
‘Cause I don’t want to recognize all the pain I’m in
Or realize the truth behind what I am or who I've been
And I tried to make things right but I just keep on making wrong
I never listened to the angel on my shoulder when she called
I count my tears like they’re experience
And my scars like they’re mysterious
And that’s a feeling I’ll remember –
Watching as you left
Watching as you ended what was meant to be forever
And I can see it in their eyes; everyone can empathize
So they say that I’m beautiful because they don’t know what else to say.
But if being broken is beautiful, then it’s the ugliest way...
The WolfBones crackling over skin.The Wolf3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Mournful optimist after a mercy killing.
The living dead scream sweet sorrow.
Idiotic Wisdom betrays an open secret.
Blood flooding the streets.
Cruel happiness makes for sweet pain.
The killer staring at the moon with yellow eyes.
Adolescent Prisonerin the back of my mind,Adolescent Prisoner2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
there's a child, with bleeding knuckles,
banging against the walls of my hysteria.
i won't let her escape -
because no one will love her.
Llamas with hats scriptCarl: Oh hey How did he get here?Llamas with hats script4 years ago in Comedy More Like This
Paul: Caaaarl, what did you do?!
Carl: Me? Uh, I didn't do this!
Paul: Explain what happened, Carl!
Carl: I've never seen him before in my life!
Paul: Why did you kill this person, Carl?
Carl: I do not kill people. That is that is my least favorite thing to do.
Paul: Tell me, Carl, exactly what you were doing before I came home.
Carl: Alright, well I was upstairs
Carl: I was uh I was sitting in my room
Carl: reading a book
Paul: Go on
Carl: And, uh, well this guy walked in
Carl: So, I went up to him
Carl: And I I stabbed him 37 times in the chest.
Paul: Caaaaaaaaaaaaarl, that KILLS people!
Carl: Oh! Well, I didn't know that!!
Paul: How could you not know that?!
Carl: Yeah, I'm in the wrong here. I SUCK.
Paul: What happened to his hands?
Carl: What's that?
Paul: His hands. Whywhy are they missing?
SolitudeFrom dusk to dawn,Solitude1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
in this desolate place
that we call
I feel that
with no way out,
Without a future,
without a purpose,
my yearning soul...
As the darkness
As the numbness
of my sanity
Ivy and The BirdIvy tangled to the lattice,Ivy and The Bird1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Cling to the darkest crevice,
Stretching to another thing,
Arms stretched forward toward the gleam,
Bird which suckles the flowered stem,
Sings soul of the ivy which bend.
The bird soared but ivy curled,
Wishing it could see the world.
Ivy envies the bird which sings,
And it’s heavenly daring dreams.
Bird which flutters high in spring,
Flies no more with injured wing.
Invisibility (trade: deerrose6)It was annoying, really, that Matthew Williams could be forgotten time and time again, but could never disappear when the bullies decided to pick on him.Invisibility (trade: deerrose6)1 year ago in Romance More Like This
The young Canadian held his glasses protectively to his chest, fearing that otherwise they’d be broken. It wouldn’t be the first time; the fragile frames always seemed to be the target of fists. Cruel laughter greeted him from every angle. He refused to cry, refused to show any weakness, not in that way.
Not that there was any truth to his desire to ‘remain strong’. He wasn’t strong to begin with. He never had been. Never would be. Alfred was the strong one, not him.
A tear escaped him.
Suddenly a loud voice interrupted the mocking laughter. “Hey!” The shout was loud, angry, rang with a shockingly strong foreign accent. “You leave him alone!”
The first of the bullies glared at the approaching Italian. “Or what?”
Feliciano put his hands up, closing them into fists.
Reality of DreamingAlas!Reality of Dreaming3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
'Twas only a dream,
Yet seeming so
My certainty was pure,
Her embraced in
No boring brown eyes,
Only the majestic
No out dated fashions,
Only silk soft
I am no poet,
Her making me
So know I know,
She's only a
It does not exist,
Dreaming only of
BallerinaTumbling through the sky toward a summit uncertainBallerina10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
My nights are alight with a flourishing flicker
That burns in my bones with an ache I can't hide
Desire that damns me down to ashes unsigned
And it can't be right, but it can't be wrong
So I twirl on the tips of my toes like I'm told
While casting my head back to scream at the cold
Spinning faster and swifter with each star that descends
Defying the wheels of roulette that forget
That I always win out in the end.
my grandmother had a blanket of galaxiesmy grandmother once told me that if i gathered allmy grandmother had a blanket of galaxies1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the stars in the midnight sky, i could sew them into
a giant blanket of galaxies for lovers to make wishes on.
this is what you do with your hands:
learn the same language my grandmother did all those
years prior to this moment of steam and shake.
come daybreak, we collapse into each other with the
sort of stumbling that my grandmother warned me of.
foolish hands know no boundaries, she would say.
thank God that i am boundless, finding you with probing fingers,
your shoulders a make-shift ladder i climbed to catch
just an inkling of heaven on the tip of my tongue.
if every i love you we whispered
into the gentle morning's ear
brought us closer together,
we would become each other.
folding until we are one:
nothing but a crease of constellations
on my grandmother's blanket.
RewrittenCan time ever be rewritten?Rewritten1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I hardly believe so
Even if I could turn the clock hands back
Am I capable of changing the past?
I ponder this question often these days
Struggling through the daily hours
Watching people safely from my dark little corner
Wondering if I can resist another meltdown
Given the oppurtunity I would rewrite my life
Start another story
A story I couldn't be ashamed of
Then perhaps the last ten years wouldn't seem like such a waste
Can time ever be rewritten?
I know that isn't so
I just cope with the reality of right now
And hope I'm strong enough to live with the past
MadnessMadness is a gift.Madness1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
It gives me my best stories.
The words are an offering.
But I pay a steep price.
I lose myself in other worlds.
Reality becomes irrelevant.
All that matters is the stories.
The characters consume me.
I create and destroy worlds.
Words are my weapons.
Words are my freedom.
Yet I pay for these words with my mind.
Madness is a gift.
It becomes my greatest muse.
I just offer myself to the abyss.
And the words come running in my place.
The Internet is Not To Be TrustedI knew this dudeThe Internet is Not To Be Trusted10 months ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Who met a girl
On the internet,
On the internet.
They fell in love,
With each other’s Lol Account.
Her name was sexybabe…
She loved anime
The perfect girl.
Too good to be true.
And they were happy.
That is until
He found out that she
Was a dude from Norway.
un-writers blockI've been in a good head space my mind has been freeun-writers block4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Recently nothing's been bothering me
The problem with this is I had nothing to write
The blissful acceptance blocked my sight
The tables are turning things are troubling me now
The flow gets easier, it's freeing some how
I don't like this cycle the pain let's me speak
Silenced when I'm happy, frustrated when I'm weak
FearFalse afflictionsFear3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
running sharply from your tongue
embracing my aching heart
crushing it to dust
Evidence you created
emerging from your mouth
tears rolling down the valleys of your face
brow furrowed in desperate screaming
Appearing for all the world
as the victim of self satisfaction
your rage making almost truths
from disconnected incidents
Real world affections
rolling out of me and over you
like raindrops in the ocean.
Something PreciousLife.Something Precious1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's a precious thing,
no matter how still,
there's life in them,
I cut through one
and green sap
flowed from the wound
from a paper cut.
Did it weep silently
as it bled?
Did it scream?
Did it hurt?
those that sway
to the wind's command,
they're living, too,
no matter how submissive,
and they die.
how can something
be so alive?
yet no matter
how much life there
seems to be,
it falls, too,
life can fall apart
so easily with
one wrong move,
That's all it takes.
there was a boy
I once knew
who thought his own life wasn't
for him to live,
to deserve to live like
Every night I heard his cries;
He asked the God above
to take away his life.
Sleeping like the deadShe is always weirded out by spiders. They run too damn fast.Sleeping like the dead2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Their legs are spindly and black and pointy. Just something so wrong about that.
There shouldn't be anything in this world that exists small, that would be horrific if made large.
He loves bugs. All kinds of bugs. Big, small, green, black. Crunchy ones are best. The ones
that when stepped on make a nice cracking sound and spew guts.
That's what he loves.
She cannot sleep. Not much. Not easily.
She sees arms reaching toward her in the dark. Always in that stage
right before she falls asleep. The bridge to sleep is blocked by
He sleeps like a log, especially after a kill. Always after a kill. The warmer the blood,
the slower the death, the more pitiful the cries for mercy, the better the sleep.
It never ceases to amaze him.
The power of murder.
The smell of autumn comforts her. The cool breeze soothes as the curtains flow outward.
The full moon shines in and she cannot see spider
Things A Guy Will Leave Out Of Love Poems10 Things a Guy Thinks around His Crush but Will Leave out of Love PoemsThings A Guy Will Leave Out Of Love Poems1 year ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
My girl is kind of like a unicorn…
‘cause I have the problem of getting so socially awkward around girls
That I scare them as if I was the grudge
Or a mummy
Or a vampire (oh…wait)
This girl is cuter than a panda bear…
And Running through my head is a list of things
That I think around her but probably shouldn't
Things that I couldn’t possibly say to her face
But have no problem telling a bunch of strangers:
Why are you single?
Why are you not single?
You’re not asking her out right now
Don’t shit your pants.
I just shit my pants.
That’s a lovely pair of….
Maybe if I write her a poem,
She’ll fall in love with me.
What’s her name again?
Is she looking at me?
She’s looking at me.
Oh my God, she’s looking at me…
She’s looking at me
She’s talking to th
Brief analysis of Pinkamena personalitiesBrief analysis of Pinkamena personalities3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Response to the question:"There's one thing I don't understand about pinkamena art, why do people always draw her with straight hair? She's not depressed when slaughtering...if anything, she's happy as hell."
Most people seem to be unaware of the significance of the timeline and the difference between the two non-canon Pinkies/Pinkamenas:
Cupcakes Pinkie Pie: Cupcakes was written before either "Party of One" or "Cutie Mark Chronicles" aired and, at the time it came out, she was depicted with her normal curly hair. "Cupcakes Pinkie" is a sadistic psychopath, basically just a psychopathic variant of her canon self.
Pinkamena: Pinkamena, with straight hair, is a classic depressive schizophrenic with comorbid MPD (Multiple Personality Disorder) tendencies. It is interesting to note that this is very much in line as a valid possibility for her canon character who, as shown in the show, displays very strong characteristics of Schizophrenia: Delusions, Disorganized speech, and G
Final Fantasy Afterstory 12Final Fantasy Afterstory 123 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Lightning could see the sun setting in the distance, its faint light still causing Cocoon to sparkle, a sight she couldn't see from her home. Although the base of the pillar was now many hundreds of miles away, she felt that if she could keep that in her eye line, Vanille and Fang would be helping her on her journey. By now she'd developed quite a rhythm from her walking game, although it was now becoming repetitive and dull, besides she now had the more pressing issue of where to sleep, all she had was fire making equipment, no tent. "I should have thought this through a little more..." she muttered to herself. She knew that several miles ahead, there was a network of caves she could hide out in, but it would take an hour or so to reach, by then it would be dark. "Stupid Snow." She muttered as if blaming him for her own recklessness. "I wonder..." she muttered as she turned her head slightly to look back, "No!" she stopped herself, "Why does it matter?" she tried to convinc
BurnedMary grunted as the rough rope was wrapped around her arms, She stood, Naked and Cold. The Freezing Winter Night was made worse by the water she was covered in, the brand on her chest stung, and her cheeks were stained by tears. She stood, the town, her family and friends stood around her, the Preacher glared at her, she wanted to scream, to tell them what he did to her. To Tell them she was victim, she bit her lip. It was pointless. Father Mayers had the town behind him. What did she have? Nothing. “This, Foul Cretin! She has tried to tempt me! Tempt me with her lust! The Devil's lived in this one!” Mary looked around wildly, seeing her mother's tearful face,Burned2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
“Mother! He's lying! Hel-”
A rock struck her across the forehead, she looked up at her mother, who's face was grim. “You are not my daughter any more, whore of satan!” Mary stopped caring, she didn't care when they branded her again, or put a blindfold on her, and a rope around her neck.
LoK: Twas the Night Before Winter SolsticeA Visit From St. VarrickLoK: Twas the Night Before Winter Solstice1 year ago in Humor More Like This
Twas the night before Solstice, and throughout the whole city
Not an Equalist stirred—it was really a pity
For Korra was bored from all the inaction
She’d been missing her fights with the civil rights faction.
But the airbender kids were all snug in their beds,
While visions of Solstice gifts danced in their heads.
And with Pema asleep, and Tenzin in meditation,
There seemed to be nothing worth Korra’s anticipation.
But then from the sky there was heard a great bang,
That seemed to come out o’er the statue of Aang.
Korra scanned up above for the source of the sound,
And hoped to see fighter planes flying around.
Korra saw the full moon, the big shiny ol’ rock,
And wondered what happened to poor Noatak.
When she spotted a man, to whom a girl clinged,
And who shouted out loud “Zhu Li, now! Do the thing!”
As his mechanical wings spread outward so quick,
She knew in a moment it must be Varrick.
More rapid than bison his gli