Letter to the WorldA note in a bottle,Letter to the World3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a message for the world.
'If I scream as loud as I could,
would you be able to hear me?
Thrown into the ocean
for the sea to swallow
the single sentence.
As the sea swallows its prize
she lets out a horrible hollow cry
for the world to hear.
The world does nothing
but capture her scream
and store it for later
when it asks why she cries
and why she hurts.
For if she screams as loud as she could
would the world listen?
Or is it just a message in a bottle
meant to be swallowed by the sea?
True and HaikuArt is lingerie;True and Haiku4 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
silk and satin draped upon
our starving egos.
YouYou3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The reflection in the Mirror is no longer broken,
The flower in Bloom no longer stained,
The song that I Sing is no longer sad,
The Unconditional love I feel is no longer strained.
The Supernova I see is an explosion of desire,
The Unknown no longer compels me to fear,
If a Hospital is where I seal my fate,
Let it be known I died loving You, my dear.
I am not my illness. I am not my illness.I am not my illness.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I've had depression for three years, and I used to hate the way my illness had changed me. I thought I could never be the girl I used to be. But my psychologist helped me to see that my illness can never change the inner me. In the end, I will have changed I will be stronger for this battle but my central values and the things that make me 'me' will always remain the same.
I am not my illness.
I have schizophrenia. People call me crazy, and avoid me, because I hear voices and talk to them. Maybe I am crazy sometimes, when I have an episode. But I'm not always crazy. I may be schizophrenic, but schizophrenic is not all I am.
I am not my illness.
The girls at school all tease me because I always stutter when I talk, and sometimes I try to speak but my mouth can't form the words. They call me retarded, dumb. I've never really had any real friends, all because I have autis
Pokemon Creepypasta- .000Pokemon Creepypasta- .0009 months ago in Horror More Like This
Numbers. That is the first thing I remember. Numbers filling up every part of my design, in the same way that cells fill up a human. In every part of me, every detail. Numbers. They made me more than just a mass of pixels, randomly arranged. They gave me strength, they gave me a personality. Numbers made me a Pokémon. Along with me, 151 pokemon were also made. All of them were mere copies, inspired from other life forms. I was the only one who was truly unique, for I was the one who connected two powerful pokemon species: kangaskhan and cubone. I was born from the suffering of a baby kangaskhan, over the death of it’s mother. That was my original form; a baby kangaskhan with no mother. I would stay by the body, and when only bones were left, wear her skull and carry her bone as a weapon. I would then be identified as cubone. Thus, I joint two powerful pokemon families together. I was proud of my identity, although when I was created in the first games, pokemon red and blue,
The girl made of pillsThe girl made of pills5 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
The doctors see a patient
A girl made of pills
A girl of facts
And broken ends
My parents see my mask
One no one should wear
They see the smiles
The daughter they know as theirs
My friends see a shadow
A fallen friend
They think there is nothing to do
And leave me be
I see a girl
Little and scared
Who wants to be better
Holding her bear
I am not my illness
My illness is not me
What can I do
When no one else sees?
Pawn of Wizards - Chapter 1Prologue Pawn of Wizards - Chapter 17 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Archwizard Lerrin Tocsell looked up from the work spread across his desk at the sound of the soft knocking. There, standing in the doorway was the portly shape of Stefan Ostwick, nervously ringing his hat in his hands as he looked into the tidy office. As the Arcane Brotherhoods Chief of Messengers, Stefan was responsible for the safe delivery of its goods, both magical and mundane, between its many buildings and outposts. Lerrin placed his quill in an inkpot with one gnarled and shaking hand, and affected his warmest smile.
Please, do take a seat, Master Ostwick, The Archwizard rose partially from his own seat as he spoke, his back protesting slightly as he gestured to one of the chairs on the other side of his desk. And many thanks for taking the time from your busy day to cater to an old mans needs.
It is no bother, Archwizard. The jowly man went wide-eyed as he spo
I Will Fight YouWhen Jake awoke, he was in a bathtub filled with ice, an unnecessarily long scar where his liver should've been.I Will Fight You7 years ago in Horror More Like This
Towering above him, a man in a ski mask, a bloodied scalpel still in his hand. Seeing that his victim had awoken, he put the knife down, running his hands through the sink.
"Dude, what the hell?" Jake asked, not all too pleased with the removal of his vital organs, consent explicitly not given, at that. "I was using those."
The man ignored Jake and wiped his hands off. Picking up a fine pair of kidneys from the operating table, he slipped his hands into them, rolling his fingers as he tested out his new boxing gloves. The man turned to Jake.
"I will fight you."
charlotte.it was halloween and charlotte was dressed as an obnoxious pumpkin, because her mother tries to make her a normal child.charlotte.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(and charlotte will whisper that normal children smash pumpkins, not wear them.)
when charlotte was seven she decided that she would swim far out into old pine lake, and hold her breath until the colors in her eyes turned purple, like the bruises that slid down her thighs and touched apon her fragile feet.
(and it was then that charlotte realized, that no one would be around to save her, and that just wasn't the point.)
charlotte decides to be called "char" because it sounds like something silent, and distant. when you say a word so many times in a row it just doesn't sound the same anymore.
(because charlotte wasn't the same,anymore.
charlotte's first b
watching you spin.you're a disco dancing, drama queen with dirty hair and the permanent smell of stale cigarettes. but god, are you beautiful, twisting and dancing under circular lights,watching you spin.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
and vomiting when you're done.(acid does some crazy shit)
your hair was once blonde and beautiful like your eyes, but now it's laying in clumps almost everywhere, because you fucking pull out a strand whenever i'm around, i don't know why i do that to you.
but i never really ever offer to leave, either.
there's that one song that i always hear you listening to, it's the same old shit about love and loss and never being able to forget that special someone, i use to get mad at you for giving in to such conforming types of art.
but now i just let you go, because last time i actually made you cry.
"would you rather fly, or read minds?" i told you i'd rather read minds, and know what everyone thinks, because you can fly on a plane anyday, but no one ever thinks the same.
Diary of a Madman July 30thDiary of a Madman July 30th5 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
July 30, 1988
Today is my birthday and my loving husband bought me a wonderful gift - you. I guess after we found all of my old diaries stored in the attic, he knew I would love to have a new one. So today I am overjoyed to have such a loving husband. By the way, Diary, his name is Kurt. We have been married for 3 years and we have never been happier.
Kurt couldn't get out from work early, or so that is what he told me. He wants me to meet him at my favorite restaurant tonight. Of course, it's a surprise party. It's more than obvious; but I'm still wondering who will be there. Sally and Steve, for sure. Maybe the Carlsons will be there? Maybe my parents? I'm so excited this morning I woke up and he had this beautiful dress hanging on the door with a note. That said how much he loved me and
I killed another woman today. She was very pretty, Diary. She looked almost like Sarah. She had the same long brown hair and slim figure. I really miss Sarah.
Rehab for Roleplayers - IntroWelcome to Rehab for Roleplayers, a series of articles aimed at helping roleplayers more successfully make the transition into writing fiction.Rehab for Roleplayers - Intro5 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Introduction: How to Spot a Drow Illusionist
I can identify a habitual roleplayer from fifty paces. Those who've been spooked by my asking whether they're a roleplayer within ten seconds of reading their fiction will know what I'm talking about.
"But how did you know?" they gasp. When I'm done chuckling, I explain that I know they are a roleplayer, because they write like a roleplayer.
There's usually a pause, then, while the writer decides to what degree they're going to feel offended by this statement, and/or wonders whether I've been stalking them, before they pose the next question: "What, exactly, do you mean by that?"
What I mean is this: roleplayers almost invariably share the same basic writing habits, and some of these habits stand out as flaws in their non-RP material.
Many people develop their interest in writing
destructive criticismdestructive criticism5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i love the movies that you find terrible,
and love the books that you find dull.
i love the singers you think are corny
and you hate the songs that speak to my soul.
i love the poets you find too romantic,
and love the shows you find hard to follow.
i love the teachers you think are too stupid,
and you laugh at the insults i find hard to swallow.
i'm in love with a girl you think tries too hard,
and you're happy with being alone.
i love that Disney still makes me cry,
and you love humor that i have outgrown.
you critique my life like it was your own;
say me and my siblings are fighting too much,
say my house holds one too many cats
or that my writing is losing its touch.
i'm tired of hearing it, tired of arguing,
putting up with your insults to some degree.
but at least the two of us agree on one thing:
we both can't stand
to be around
Love Is UnfairI want to absorb your tears with my chest,Love Is Unfair5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Taste the saltiness with my heart,
Leaving it to dry where it is,
And feel the warmth of you in my arms.
I took off my shirt for you to blow your nose,
So I can hear you breathe out in relief.
And it comes in such small warm gasps,
That I wish to collect them all just to keep you from the cold.
And tomorrow we are going to wake up and just be friends again.
There will be no more tears or warmth of unshed love.
So I feel I should be the one crying now,
Because I could not have loved you more.
for you.If you;for you.5 years ago in Letters More Like This
have ever been l o s t, damaged, (heart)broken, vulnerable, unloved, unwanted, unneeded.
have ever lay on the cold ground and let the solid surface dig into your skull, graze your ankles and induce sh-shivers to see if you still
r e a l l y feel.
have ever stood in the heavy, pouring rain hoping that as it soaks you to the bone and cleanses your pores, maybe it will wash away everything about you too, giving you a fresh start.
have ever slipped under the duvet, swallowed the lump in your throat and squeezed your eyes shut praying that once you drift into your deep slumber, you will never wake up.
This is for you.
Each moment fades like days fade to nights fade to dreams fade to mornings fade to something fade to nothing and in the end it becomes hard. It becomes desolate. You're isolated and you're just stranded. You're trapped on a raft with no direction to sail, because each route is blocked by the viole
bipolar hearts.we use to watch Fight Club together, because she said that it made her feel a little less alone, and i could never reply so i held her in my lap.bipolar hearts.6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
and she told me she was kalea's dizzy mind.
and in real life, you would think nothing of anything really, because she watches the birds fly just like you do. the morning rises on the same side of her window, and she can watch the clock tick away hours, just like you.
and she told me she was kalea's spinal cord.
i watched her pick at her fingernails for too long, and always decided i would leave as soon as they started bleeding. her arms are full of scars where she thought she felt something crawling up her skin, only to find she was still alone. i told her i was here, but she turned over(and i can still hear her uneven breathing)
and she told me she was <i>
Life's Like An Hourglass......glued to the table.Life's Like An Hourglass...4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He was tired. He was always tired these days; between the chemo, the meds, the fucking fighting for his life, he was exhausted.
And it never seemed to end.
Life was hard, getting the best of him these days. Most of it was spent alone in a quiet apartment he shared with no one. Most of the things that had been important to him had stepped back - not gone entirely, but just far enough away that their faces seemed blurred, unrecognizable.
Looking back on it, it made sense and the more he'd learned over the years, he understood why it had happened this way.
He would never have imagined him thinking it then, in his youth, but women dealt with shit in a way totally different than men. They tended to stiffen their upper lip and face life head on, for better and for worse.
He remember all too well, her leaning against the bright red monstrosity that was her car outside of the hospital: him out of his first bout of chemo and feelin
Fairytale LoverWe were the starsFairytale Lover6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of our eternal night
Time ceased to exist
all else faded away,
secure in my arms
until i open my eyes
to a blankness
mirroring my heart;
the reverie i clutched
a mere shadow
a decrepit dream.
a sharp reminder
this residue of