Cuttin' timeWith a small press, my feelings left.Cuttin' time3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The blood drawn, from skin.
Un-tamed and wild,
Tearful and broken.
No matter the day,
No matter the time,
Let's cut away.
Let's cut away.
As those minutes tick by,
The nails scratching the surface,
Shaking in trembled cold sweats.
Watching shadows dance.
To make sure that only one sees.
My own eyes, stained by the sight.
Creating fresh scars,
To hide again.
Blaming everything, but myself.
"Let's run away, come on dear."
Innocent remarks, held in the past.
Now causing the scars.
scissors, pocket knives, razors.
Haven't moved forth at all,
To end up tied down again.
Screaming hellful remarks.
Lightheaded and thin
Then starting all over again.
My wordsThe amount of words spoken everyday can become repetitive.My words2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
“I want to be stronger.”
They don’t sink in anymore because we've overused them.
“Why doesn't anyone love me?”
No longer can we start a revolution, or inspire a world.
“We can do it! Keep on fighting!”
Instead we wind up sounding cliche.
“I want to die”
No longer are we the poets who make people cry.
“Life is shit”
Instead we leave a blank feeling, because we've heard it before.
So we are left with this emptiness.
But that can’t be true.
Because it’s too cliche.
love is hurtingThe beautiful days we held so close, I once said to 'hello' to you.love is hurting3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Our meeting was brief, and simple.
Caring, and kind.
We left with helpless hearts.
Neither regretting, nor forgetting.
Our meeting place, once helped me smile.
Overcoming each day.
I still wish for the past,
with crying into my hands, at last.
Letting lose the tears,
I know I shouldn't fear.
You tell me "You'll move on".
But the glass still digs into my skin, and prickles each time I see you.
Wandering like I'm not here.
I touch my lips, and hope for yours to return.
The tears keep streaming, never forgetting.
Lost for wordsI used to be able to take a group of ugly words, and turn them into a beauty.Lost for words2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I used to be able to have the words tell a story.
Now I’m at a loss for words, wishing I could bring back the inspiration I had before.
I know if I force it out, my words will become lies.
Un-relatable, and confusing.
Despite my efforts to change this.
It’ll remain the same.
Till I find my inspiration again.
The Seal Of Judith. The Change Part.1The Seal Of Judith. The Change Part.13 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
PREVIOUSLY: You were finally registered and started to work in the mansion of King Isilra, while you were with Leon you were given a couple options for work by choosing between 3 doors according to your way of thinking.
NOTE: YOU ONLY READ THIS IF YOU RESPONDED (I'll go pass the Door Of Change, A Nocturnal garden? Sounds cool! Gonna take a peek~!) (It's like a dating game if you didn't get the clue..)
You decided to check out The Nocturnal Garden, you opened the door giving a ¨creak¨ sound, you walked in and closed the door and looked around the place. It wasn't a room but it looked like the place where they filmed the last Jurassic Park movie it was a jungle! It had many plants and the room seemed to never end of this, and many had a very special and beautiful light that glowed in the dark room, you begin to walk around and saw that the room was dark a
Sometimes people need a lift.Love hurts.Sometimes people need a lift.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't mean the stupid "you broke my heart"
kind of love that heals after you realize that loser
wasn't worth your tears in the first place.
I mean real love.
Honest, pure love. is so. painful.
I don't think everyone gets there honestly.
To give everything to someone.
I don't mean physically. I don't mean romantically.
Because in it's purest form, love can be felt with those who you give your entire being to.
Your pointless stories,
running errands together,
sitting in silence for hours in the same room,
your time and effort,
your most shameful moments,
allowing yourself to become vulnerable,
getting little notes on your door,
crying in the car as you listen patiently in the passenger seat.
Love hurts not because this person could break your heart.
It's so far beyond that.
It rips my heart out when you curl into a ball because some jerk told you that you weren't good enough.
I feel helpless to see you miserable, trying to make ends meet.
I've seen you br
If I Fall in LoveI'm a secret romantic, but...If I Fall in Love4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't believe in roses and chocolates, satin sheets, drinks, or candlelit dinners
I don't expect anyone to write sappy songs or poetry for me
You don't have to be muscular or good-looking
You don't have to be perfect, a Prince Charming, or a Cassanova
And I don't expect you to rescue me from a tower,
I can rescue myself, but I'll rescue you if I ever need to
You don't have to be with me everyday
If you want to hang out with your friends, that's fine
I like the concept of having space
We don't have to hold hands or hug all the time,
but if we can find a private place, that'd be fine
I don't care if all you want to do is sit around and watch TV
Anything you like to do or want to do is just fine
In other words, if I fall in love with you...
...it's because I like something about you
It's because you respect me and treat me right
It's because your personality shines so bright
It's because you're you...
...And that's all I really want or need
Dear YouDear You,Dear You4 years ago in Emotional More Like This
You probably know this by now, but
I was stupid.
I can only hope that you've fixed the mistakes I've made, and made a life for yourself.
A good life.
A happy life.
And maybe you've forgotten the stupid decisions I've made, and all of the sheer, utter insanity that I put you through.
For all of it.
I really hope that you accomplished everything you wanted to do. I hope you got into a good college; I'm sorry for nearly messing that up for you with my bad
Letting GoIt can be hard,Letting Go9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Or it can be easy.
Depending on what it is you have to leave behind.
Sometimes this can be
The only way of life.
The only way of continuing,
To be you.
Losing a part of yourself,
Or forever guarding a hole.
It can never be replaced,
Forgotten or lost.
You cherish memories,
Because they are the only thing you have left.
You hold on to fragile shards of thought -
Because the real thing is no more.
You will never feel complete.
Your main goal in life is not to become rich,
Own a flash car and a big house.
Your life goal becomes the one to complete yourself.
To make yourself whole.
Because there's no harder thing than letting go.
ValentinesTwilight Sparkle was used to catching a moment's peace whenever she could. When she had first arrived at Ponyville, she had seen no reason why she couldn't adapt her rigorous schedule to her new lifestyle - replace classes with personal studying, leave more time for luncheons and visits with friends, etcetera. This mentality had gone out the window sometime between staving off the parasprite invasion and dealing with a stable time-loop she herself had created. It had become apparent since then that she'd have to accept more surprises in her life, and less schedule for it. Over time, she had began to get used to it, taking advantage of her quiet time to get what she wanted done but knowing it might get interrupted at any point.Valentines2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Still, receiving a knock on the door before she had even opened the library for the day did not bode well for today's plans. She had been hoping to get started on a particularly riveting text about biomagical systems after breakfast, and unexpected visits seldom
(A)Musing - Part OneIt took ten minutes for Lawrence Bradley to realize he was still on the same paragraph, reading without actually reading. He blinked at the page rather dully before opening the bedside table drawer and fishing out a bookmark. The story would not progess tonight, not as long as these thoughts weighted heavily on his mind. He folded up his wire glasses and laid them on top of the book. Sighing, he slouched his way into a more horizontal position.(A)Musing - Part One3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It would have been a lie to claim he wasn't attracted to her. And Lawrence Bradley was, among other things, a honest man. He was attracted, but he didn't know why.
She was quite sweet, but no more so to him than she was to everyone. Intelligent, yes, but weren't most of his students? They managed a passable enough imitation of intelligence anyway, at least when they showed up for class. She wasn't pretty - and that wasn't a harsh judgement on his part. Autumn Fanshaw was as plain Jane as they made them and he'd taught his share of
StrikingIt was warm.Striking2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Not hot like she had been expecting a soft, gentle warmth that saturated her every extremity down to her fingertips. Like stoking the fire of a small heater, one bundle of sticks at a time. She was nestled snugly under the pale blue sheets watching sleepily as the man beside her dozed on. His grey hair looked more frazzled than normal and it was strange to her to see him so relaxed. The sharp intelligence in his blue eyes had always been striking and they were now closed to her.
Dinner conversation had been polite, ranging all over from Shakespeare to the latest blockbuster film; the two were completely absorbed in their own world for the night while the din of the crowd rose and fell around them.
She stretched her neck and shoulder blades with a soft groan, sparing a brief glance at his watch lying askew on the nearby intable. Nearly 2:15 in the afternoon. She returned her arm back to her side and burrowed back into the blankets with a puff of a sigh.
A Dream in the DesertThey had lost everything in the fire.A Dream in the Desert3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The wreckage lay behind them, sending off the occasional flare of smoke and light whenever the fire stumbled across another canister of fuel. As soon as they'd crawled to safety, Aidan had remarked that, at the very least, they still had their lives.
"Will that be enough?" Finn muttered to himself now, dragging his eyes away from the crumpled remains of their ship. For a second, he let his eyes skim near the sun. It sagged above their heads, groaning as it struggled to pull its heavy, swollen mass toward the horizon. Here, below, the planet could do little but succumb to its lightwhite and scathing, like holy fire.
In front of him, Aidan stumbled through the sand, struggling to navigate the slope of the dune as he patched the worst of the holes in his biosuit. Finn hurriedly did the same, peeling off the hood of his suit and trying not to wince as the rubbery material pulled on his skin. With aching slowness, he tore it into thin strips and t
Facets1. He pulled a thick novel out and balanced it on his palm before fishing a pair of reading glasses from the mess on his desk. The surprise must have shown on her face, for he directed a quip at her.Facets3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
2. She yanked the controller out of his hands before he could lost a third consecutive boss battle and promptly died before being sent back to the loading screen.
3. She pulled out several CD's from the shelf.
"I didn't know many people in my age bracket enjoyed Celtic music so much."
4. They had planned to have a few rounds at the bowling alley to alleviate the boredom of small town life, but found their plans thwarted upon seeing the sheer number of people inside. It was just their luck that they chose the one weekend when a tournament was being held.
5. She made a sharp turn into an abandoned parking lot and slammed the brakes. "Give me thaaat!" and snatched the GPS from his hands, studying the digital map.
"Idiot. You've still got us set in the same town w
For Want of a Dawn - Chapter 11 The Battle of Appleloosa.For Want of a Dawn - Chapter 113 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"War is war and the Hells are the hells, but of the two, war is the worse. For you see, in the Hells one has sinners: ponies who deserve to be there. Yet, war is rife with innocents, foals and the elderly who have done no wrong. They are punished not for their own sins, but the sins of others. Trust my words, for I had the unfortunate fate to bear witness to both. I pity anypony who experiences the horrors of armed conflict." Stellar Stylus
A road of iron swept across the plains of the desert: linking cities and towns alike to the fertile new frontier of Equestria. Upon the twin lines of iron rails, a beast of mythic proportions powered across the land and shook the ground while it roared on. The fire in its belly burned hotter than the hells themselves, driving the titan on to reach then unheard of speeds.
A line of acrid smoke billowed from the mouth of th
I MET YOU BEFORE STILESI MET YOU BEFORE STILES3 years ago in Romance More Like This
A tall, dark-haired man watched those two troublemakers who were on his land again as they were leaving. He got a strange feeling from them as if he knew one of them. The short-haired one seemed to be familiar.
And then he heard the name Stiles. At that moment he recalled everything. Of course he knew him. It was Stiles, the boy without a mom. Derek closed his eyes for a moment to be able to recall that night.
He had been ten when he had been wandering in a forest at night because Laura had teased him and hadn't wanted to let him be. So he changed into a wolf and ran away for couple hours. He knew his parents wouldn't look for him; they weren't worried about him. They had never been. Derek wasn't an ordinary boy; he was a young wolf, who could have taken care of himself more than anyone else.
Suddenly he saw the night right in front of him again.
He had just been running not far from the road, when he had heard something. He stopped and sniffed. He was sure there was someone
Beautiful DayThere are some days that are inherently beautiful.Beautiful Day2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Hot green-yellow days in August-- or July, but never June-- where everything seems still, like you're the only person in the world, because all the normal people are inside with their air conditioners, and all the birds are resting, and you lie down on the grass and it feels like it's just you and the great growing plant world that surrounds you, and it's utterly still, the only moving air caused by your breath, and for a minute you know what peace is. And then the air stirs, and you hear a lawn mower in the distance and smell the fresh-cut grass, and some laughter or shouts in the distance because some kids are playing something, but it's still quiet in your empty space of green, even when a car goes by, even when suddenly a pair of twittering birds flies overhead, two dark spots against the blue bit of sky overhead.
Days in the winter when the clouds are thick and heavy, like a flannel sweater over the world, and they're shaking down
Digitigrade IIThe human foot contains twenty-six bonesDigitigrade II3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for running and dancing and spinning
pirouettes in neat circles,
balanced on one foot before two,
starved for attention with every broken
"Ballet is more than dancing,
Grace," the en pointe trainer balanced
on one foot and named every bone
supporting her weight.
Grace spins one
circle on the hardwood floor:
her eyes land on the barre mirror.
She doesn't see the atrophied bone
ribs through pink gauze,
but only imagines herself as beautiful.
Weeks of anorexic binging display the remains
of weak structure.
One more skin-and-bone
cygnet remained an ugly duckling
as the starved light of dawn danced across the sky
on bleach bone toes.
The empty theater seats fill up
while en pointe sylphs
count their ribs backstage
at the memorial performance
where grace fluttered,
The Pirate SolsticeThe Pirate Solstice:The Pirate Solstice2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There is tale around the Galbin Coast,
Of a black ship that appeared on the Winter Solstice.
It arrived at a town near Bismarch,
Struck heavily by famine and crop plagues.
The ship drifted silently upon the ocean currents,
Not a creak nor groan could be heard from its frame.
It docked at the port like an ominous reaper's vessel;
A metallic boarding ramp - much like a daemon's tongue -
Slithered slowly from its deck to meet with wooden jetty.
The crew descended, wearing black cloaks and black hats,
Fedoras, I believe they were called.
These figures made little noise as they moved,
walking slowly, silently and solemnly,
Carrying huge rucksacks upon their backs.
One by one, they dispersed throughout the town,
They went from house to house, distributing food,
Gifts and other things of the like.
For the first time in a long while,
The town was filled with laughter and joy.
Children actually giggled and smiled,
While adults breathed a sighs of relief and ea
The Visitor - Part 1It was twenty-eight minutes past seven, on the sixth day of October, and London was being rained on. Rain is not something that happens in London or over London or even around London. It happens to London, in the same way that chicken-pox happens to five-year-olds.The Visitor - Part 13 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
London with rain happening to it is a very different place to London with nice-weather-for-this-time-of-year. It's grumpier. People talk less, and they hurry everywhere, holding up briefcases and newspapers like offerings to the gods. Women in high heels perform that peculiar toes-only not-quite-running that is unique to the breed. And anyone arriving in a safe, dry haven, will say to the first human being they encounter, "It's absolutely tipping it down out there!"
On that morning (the sixth of October, seven twenty-eight) Doctor Rosemary Fortune was not performing the toes-only run, the newspaper-over-head jog, or any other undignified movement. She had come equipped with a very la
Prussia, America and the Great PumpkinPRUSSIA, AMERICA AND THE GREAT PUMPKINPrussia, America and the Great Pumpkin3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
One cold summer's day Prussia was walking along stroking a lobster when America flew out a bush.
"OMG ITS BARBIE!" he yelled before hoping off and hiding in a curtain.
"WAIT I NEED MI LADY GAGA CDS BACK!" shouted Prussia epicly running after him.
Prussia got his newspaper and started looking America and his Lady Gaga CDs. First he look in a matchbox, but America wasnt in there so he looked in the freezer.
"OMG PRUSSIA AMERICA IS IN THE CURTAIN!111!" said the freezer.
"OMGWTF YOU BETRAYED ME EVIL FREEZER!!!" shouted America epicly and started shooting at them with a daffodil. Prussia kicked the freezer into his handbag and hit America with it. Then Gilbird pooped on America's head and started dancing on his ears.
"STOOOOOOOOOOP!!!" said America annoyed. "I'M HINDIG FROM THE GRATE PUMPKING!"
"OMG!" said Prussia and hid in the handbag with the freezer.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" said Gilbird and hid in America's nose.
Suddenly, ENGLAND EPICLY ENT
Much Ahoof About Nothing Part 2Much Ahoof About Nothing Part 2 starring Princess Celestia and her faithful student Twilight SparkleMuch Ahoof About Nothing Part 23 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
by Butterscotch Sundae
"Rainbow?" Applejack said, frowning in disbelief. "Rainbow Dash? Really?"
Rarity nodded. "Oh darling, it suddenly occurred to me while I was chatting with Twilight over tea this morning. She said she felt as if she was missing something, and I suggest that it was somepony she was missing, rather. And when I suggested it was young Spike, she laughed. But then I remembered that Rainbow was also out of town. As you know, she's in Canterlot at the moment helping the Wonderbolts with the Spring Moon Festival performance that rather striking Spitfire has a marvellous aerial spectacle in store for the Princess Luna, I hear."
"Ah dunno, Rarity," said Applejack. "Ah mean, Twi and Rainbow? What do those two even have in common?"
"Oh, Applejack," sighed Rarity, lifting a soft forehoof and placing it on the muscular withers of her lover. "I do so love you
Fragments - Nostalgia Edition1. I wrote it a thousand times on my 1940's typewriter, practiced the words mentally a million times, mouthed the sentence into my pillow every night for years but only said it once, aloud, to your casket.Fragments - Nostalgia Edition2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
2. Every tea party with my eight year old little sister was a very civil war. I wore my sunhats like helmets and my lace gloves like gauntlets, my tablecloth was my battle flag, and the first (and last) battle began with the final cookie and ended with time out on opposite sides of the house.
3. He used to build birdhouses and hand-size coffins in woodshop class. Never clocks or derby cars, nor trinket boxes or small bookshelves. Only birdhouses. Only tiny caskets that could fit in your palm.
I never asked but I never had to after I saw him bury a blue jay shot by his little brother with the very first thing he ever made in woodshop class a slingshot.
4. My grandmother had a never-ending spool of yarn in her knitting basket. I know because I never once saw her buy anoth