ReturnJust because I am deadReturn3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
does not mean I am an angel
I am far from that of an angel.
The evil men,
who kill and rape and burn for fun
shall pay for their crimes
even if I go to hell for it.
The crow shall be my guide
and my connection
to be able to make my mark
on the world that has left me behind.
I may have died
but death does not stop me
I shall stop for death
when I am ready.
For while time goes on
and the world forgets
true love is the only thing
that lasts forever.
Vengence is a welcomed thing
that stays in the heart
festering and tainting what was once pure
and slowly killing.
I died for the one I love
but death does not stop me.
For life is but a dream
that death wakes us up from.
Vampire relationship problems14 Reasons Why it (Sometimes) Sucks to be Married to a Vampire, Other Than the Obvious Ones:Vampire relationship problems8 years ago in Humor More Like This
1. You might have morning breath. You might have garlic breath. Either way, HE CAN SMELL IT. FROM ACROSS THE ROOM. Because of this, you become incredibly aware of your own breath (as if you weren't aware enough already, what with the "your pulse and breathing rate bring out the bloodlust in me"-ness). To counter this, you take to the unendearing habit of constantly chewing minty gum, which leads me to my next reason:
2. Little noises annoy him. Even though he's too polite to say anything about it, you can still tell: door hinges, nail tapping, that weird snorting thing you do in winter when you have a cold and your throat is all phlegmy. Especially when you eat: chewing, swallowing, the fork tines on the plate. It's downright bloody embarrassing, that's what it is.
3. You can't say "bloody" anything, without him taking it literally or making a corny joke, both of which are painful.
4. And it's
For MadisonStreams of summer air carried well-wishings and sleepy symphonies of crickets' nighttime magic, but nothing compared during sunlit hours to the music made by his own two hands.For Madison4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
They would never touch a piano again, never breathe notes in patterns full enough of beauty that they would make Debussy bleed with envy, never resurface from the cold glass of the lake's mirror. He was a sorcerer of sound, a soul on fire with compassion and artistry -- he was dead. Caught in the undertow. Forever frozen in insufficient rescue of a boy smaller than himself. His heart had gone still, but was bigger than any beating above ground.
I heard him breathing Clair de Lune every afternoon as I walked home. He was invisible, as though he was hidden behind thick veils of water, quashing his reflection, but never his sound. I could hear how beautiful his fingers were as they pressed gently over ivory and ebony, solid bricks and thin like enamel, striking chord after chord of pure moonlight. As the leaves and
VictimVictim3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
That could obliterate the indestructible
That can crush any emotional-barrier
That seems beyond cruel
That is far out of control
It's impossible almost every night / You're the one who left me traumatized
As my lungs become EVER-so numb / This damage can NEVER be undone
Then my wounded memory floods / You will always be a part of my blood
Gasping for air
Holding my head
Afflicted by despair
I will never be able to forget
Living like this
One can only pretend
There is no such thing as darkness
But I knew I could not prevent the end
A part of me
Has that one wish
There was no tragedy
Ever to begin with
Innocence is held down
By what cannot be seen
Dark images are bound
Thou will forever be a part of me
I want to be set free / From your relentless agony
I'm starting to forget what it's like / To feel a complete soul inside
Though I hope you're doing well / I can't wait to see you here in hell
FMA OC Profile-Jen LynetteFMA OC Profile-Jen Lynette3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Name: Jen Lynette
Nicknames: Tree-hugger, Plant-freak, Auntie Jen(by her cousin's son), and 'slim'
D.O.B: February 23rd, 1899 (She's a few weeks younger than Edward)
Place of Birth: Abelena Island, Amestris
Residence: She lives in a huge house won by her Grandma Tracy in her gambling days. Half of the house was turned into an Inn (The Tracy Inn). When she's off training with her alchemy teacher, she stays in their mansion in Central City.
Occupation: Alchemy apprentice and Inn keeper
-Went to basic grammar school
-Was later homeschooled by her mom
-Became an alchemy apprentice at age 10
Height: 5'2" (age 15), 5'4" (age 16)
Hair: Curly, brown, goes down to her shoulders
-Usually wears it in a high ponytail, otherwise it's just left down.
Eyes: Dark Blue
Body type: As a young girl she was a tomboy, climbing trees
Who needs friends?Who needs friends?3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A good enemy is better than a best friend
A good enemy can't betray
A good enemy won't go away
A good enemy will be there at the end
A best friend will fail
A best friend tells you what to think
A best fiend pushes you to the brink
A best friend will bail
A good enemy pushes you forward
A good enemy tests your steel
A good enemy makes you real
A good enemy seeks no reward
A best friend makes demands
A best friend always judges
A best fiend holds grudges
A best friend won't withstand
With an enemy you know they hate you
With a friend you are not sure
To an enemy you can be true
When they run you through
It won't be from behind
A friend won't just let it end
Tell you they never liked you
Every story you tell they bend
Every wound you mend
They inflict two more
With enemies like these who needs friends
AloneAlone3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You were alone from the start,
But you didn't care back then.
You were special.
So special that no one could understand you.
But that was special too.
No one could reach you in your bubble.
Then the others came.
They were more special.
You pulled away.
While being surrounded you felt so alone.
Until you were really alone.
And no one could understand you.
Not even you.
You tried to change.
But the bubble was strong.
You kicked and screamed, but no one noticed.
That was what the bubble was for.
Then came the time when they pushed you away.
They couldn't have known you are different.
Are you different?
you drifted away,
They won't remember.
They won't remember what they never knew.
Did you know?
Who are you?
Why is it painful?
What is painful?
Why are you crying?
NyxOf blackest night and shadowed dreams,Nyx4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Under the watchful eye of moon,
The world tears apart at the seams,
And everywhere, pieces are strewn.
Desperate, I try so hard,
To fix was has been left for me.
Born of chaos, still so scarred,
I search for something that cannot be.
Each one of them is a part of me,
The blame, the death, even the doom.
Surely not only I can see,
While some have died, others still bloom.
Not all I create is born of fear.
What about dreams, or soothing sleep?
For those poor souls, I shed a tear,
And for my own, I can only weep.
incendiaryit was the city -- you know, a self-contained organism, a microcosm of reality in which we all take part. it's like a play, with our very orchestrated roles rehearsed perfectly until we can pull them off as smooth as ice.incendiary4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
it doesn't matter which city, because really, they're all the same -- paris, milan, barcelona...lawrence, pittsburgh, atlanta.
what matters is only that we were in the city. i was myself, playing the role of a love-struck jeweler, praying i could find just the right gem to put on my lover's finger someday, and she was herself, playing the role of sara.
sara, my love; sara, my heart; sara, the snow beneath my feet, the ice begging for me to slip
but still, we were here. glimpses of this city swallow my hunger -- i might never eat again if this were my home, the way it filled me up. but the moment i broke eye contact with this entity, this city with its glittering skyline, i felt the hollows in me ache again.
it felt rig
the art of letting goit's only been a weekthe art of letting go4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i forget what it's like
to have someone
instead of being
it feels like a premature death.
we are a bird, stuttering
through the air as our wings
i'm so tired of bleeding.
i can't continue to need you
more than you need me.
i can't continue resting my head
on my pillow at two in the morning,
after hours of furiously beating it
against my bed
to try to
i can't continue to love you
for the way you held my heart like a heart,
but held my body like a treasure.
i can't wait til love doesn't matter,
or it's just soft like the colour pink and new clothes,
no more of these thorns.
have i not bled enough?
What is wrong with me?I'm a monsterWhat is wrong with me?3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm a freak
I lash out
I lost control
For one moment
Pushed over the edge
It was too much
I can't believe it
What is wrong with me?
How could I do this?
It won't happen again
But still stay away
Why be near me?
What good is there to hold by?
Theres one light left
On the outside
To relight the others inside
.: SILENCE :..: SILENCE :.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I never liked silence.
It's why I leave on my TV while I sleep
Or blast music when I'm home alone.
I'll even sing a tune myself,
If it keeps out the silence.
So why is it so surprising, then,
That I've grown so overly frustrated
With your unresponsive critical hit?
I can only do so much myself---
I've reached out,
Cranked up the volume,
I've shouted and sang and cried and screamed!
But you let the silence creep in,
And now there's just... n o t h i n g.
I hate your silence.
listen to me scream.I promise you there was never anything wrong with you,listen to me scream.4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
it was always me.
I'm sorry for ruining our fairy tale dream,
I would give anything to have you back.
(And the truth is I've been broken since you've left.
I always was the type that wasn't committed into being in a relationship
because I was afraid that I would end up heartless.
But the truth is that I should have believed you
when you said that you were different.)
I used to love your soft kisses
because they always made my heart feel alive again.
You always whispered ''You're beautiful''
in my ear but I never believed you.
(All I would do was laugh to myself.)
I know it's hurting you,
but it's killing me.
a new heartbeatyou would have told her that she was the most beautiful idea in the world if it meant getting in her pants. please, close your mouth: it's unbecoming to gape so openly. this isn't disgusting, this isn't piggish. this is called human nature. you are a filthy, instinctual body following your hormones instead of heart. if you say otherwise, you're a liar. if you agree, you're a liar anyway.a new heartbeat5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
let's backtrack. the music is so loud, you can feel it in your teeth. the bass is thumping hard enough that it's resetting your heartbeat. your bones turn to sand and the smoke is so thick, you can't feel your body anymore. welcome to the night. here, you are anyone you want to be. you can get the girl with the flat stomach and diamond belly button, you can get the girl with the thick glasses and anti-establishment tshirt. because everyone is just a thriving org
Moustached penguins (RomanoXReader)"Thanks a lot!" You exclaimed, hugging Antonio tightly around the neck. He'd gotten you a really neat moustache necklace, something you'd been eyeing up for months now. "No problem at all chica!" He laughed, his arms around you.Moustached penguins (RomanoXReader)3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Next up was Francis' present. You giggled when you opened the small sachet, pulling out a pair of moustache earrings. And yes, they completely matched with Antonio's, they'd definitely thought that out. "Merci~" you cooed at the Frenchman, kissing his cheek.
He gave you a lecherous smile, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Gilbert grinned at you, his present hiding behind his back. "How bad do you want this frau?" He asked mischievously. In reply, you pouted, your head on tilt. "Very, very badly." You told him, inching closer to him.
"Okay then~" He offered you the present, letting you eagerly rip the paper off. "So, how do you like it?" he asked. You beamed up at him, holding up the jumper. The imprint on it said: "Start your day with a smile" and it had a lit
The Day I Met God II.What do you say to the lonliest man in the world?The Day I Met God II.6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"I think you're doing the best you can."
but in my mind it played past tense.
the best you could.
For awhile I had this sudden urge to hold onto God's hand.
I wonder how long it had been since someone comforted him.
This time, I shifted, uncomfortably.
"It's okay, Kalea. You don't have to."
for some reason I forgot that he knew every moment.
God got up, and walked to the edge of the balcony
i watched him grab the purple clouds and pull them closer to us
"Kalea, do you know what it's like to destroy?"
Yes God, I do.
I knew he could read my mind, but instead I said
I watched God pull the clouds back and let them fly across the sky
God walked back to the balcony wall and held his head in his hands.
House of RoguesHouse of RoguesHouse of Rogues8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Welcome to the house of rogues,
Were accomplices, liars and thieves
We come when we come and we go when we go
Arrive for the show and then leave;
Were robbers and barons and night-loving cats
We live for the here and the now
So raise up your glass; with a tip of your hat
Take a step, take a breath, take a bow.
Welcome to the house of wolves,
Were all sinners and lovers and fools
Weve danced and weve run and weve cried and weve sung
For we play by our own made-up rules
We live for adventure, thick incense and ink
Old candles and Sexton and Frost
And though we might turn on lifes rocky red brink
We seldom are lonely or lost.
Welcome to the house of rogues,
Were all players and dancers and liars,
We do as we please and we please as we do
And well run when its down to the wire,
Were midnighters, sunrisers, sinners that love
And lovers that oftentimes sin
So welcome to the House of Rogues
Take a chance,
Why Can't I Be?Why Can't I Be?4 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
Hello my friend,
Its me again.
I'm so sorry you're in prison.
People are so cruel at times,
I wish that I weren't like them.
Why can't I be a bird, like you?
Though my voice is unlike yours.
Your morning song's so beautiful,
You bring dying birds a cure.
I cannot understand their ways,
Why don't they encage me?
I'm not so different from yourself,
I've even made some wings.
But they do not help me fly like you,
Oh I wish they'd let you leave,
I'll just release you, that I will.
I'm going to set you free!
Come, come now little bird.
I mean to you no harm.
Perch here upon my shoulder, bird
Or here, rest on my arm.
I'm going to free you now my friend.
But please, be very quiet.
So do not chirp,
And do not sing,
Or else they'll come and find us.
But if they do, I'll stay with you.
And bid they encage me,
Then we will fly away some day,
Together, flying free.