Ode to Rise AgainstThe band spoke not to the masses,
but to those whose wrists wore slashes.
Their words lacked a semblance of formality,
but were meant for those with abnormality.
The message was for all those whose pain was immense;
it told them it was time to rise, Rise Against.
Rise Against the injustice and pain.
Defend the memory of the slain.
Stand for those who are helpless.
Always try to be selfless.
Work hard for better futures.
Treat the world's wounds with sutures.
Rise Against their pseudo-perfection.
With music, they gave us direction.
Do not let yourself be tame.
Do not give in to their game.
Fight back, but not with violence,
and do not live in silence.
Rise Against the corrupt regime.
They are not as strong as they seem.
Live only by your moral laws.
Stand up, stand out, embrace your flaws.
Arm-in-arm, we make a wall.
Together, we can stand tall.
Rise Against the fanatic;
those whose beliefs are static.
They fear our success, our progress,
and so it is us they oppress.
In time, my suffer
One Last SongThey didn't see the signs.One Last Song2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
They should've read between the lines.
Her lifestyle they scorned,
and for this reason, they mourned...
She suffered in silence.
Her sorrow, a cadence.
With her life they had gambled,
but with her world in shambles,
they had gone all-in and lost.
They should've known the cost...
In front of the grave, a boy thought of the girl he'd forsaken.
He wished this was a nightmare from which he'd awaken.
He was her high-school sweetheart,
but they had drifted apart.
Once he had left her alone,
the suicidal thoughts found a home...
On her guitar, sad notes she played,
whilst overhead, a noose had swayed.
From quivering lips, she sang one last time.
Shutting out a million thoughts, she managed a rhyme...
"Mother, father, I have a confession...
This song shall never be completed,
for I battled with depression,
and depression succeeded..."
My DreamDear: ReaderMy Dream3 years ago in Letters More Like This
I have a dream. A dream that I know I will one day accomplish, and when I do, I will have you to thank for it. Yes, you, the one reading this. You see, my dream is all about you. In fact, I suppose that you could say my dream relies on you. I understand that this may seem confusing, so let me explain.
My dream is to become a writer; a famous writer!
My dream is to inspire dreams, and to encourage imagination. To teach, and to be taught. My dream is to connect with the world around me, and to share with it what I believe, and what I treasure. So let me stop, right now, and tell you...
Thank you. Thank you for taking the time to read my words, and to live my imagination. Thank you for supporting me; for telling me what you love and what I can improve. It is your support, your words, that keep me writing, and therefor perusing my dreams. One day, when I reach that dream, I will have you to thank for it. Thank you.
I was blown away, recently, seriously mind blown! I was on one
The Five People You Meet On EarthWe are mortal. We are not everlasting, and our journey must someday come to an end. Whether that someday be next week or in 50 years, it is never foreseen or wanted in the slightest bit. We, in our youth, roll our eyes at the mere mention of death as if we are invincible when, in reality, death is as real to us as it is to a cancer patient. Death is the top feared in the world, above all else. What is there to fear of death but the pain of losing someone, though? We've all had that someone whom we assumed would never leave us, but is now nothing but an unadorned memory. In my case, this was my grandfather.The Five People You Meet On Earth3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
"Hey do you want to come? We're going to visit Grandpa in the hospital," my mother said, rather loudly. My grandpa had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, and this was the first time my mother invited my brothers and me to come along. I hesitated, debating whether or not to go.
"Uhh... I don't think so. Next time!"
How was I to know he had only one short month left?
MusicI close my eyes and I turn up the volumeMusic6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I listen to the sweet sound thats coming from the speakers
It sooths my nerves and calms me
It helps me when Im mad or when Im sad
I feel myself drift away
Getting lost in the rhythm and the words.
ForlornCriss-cross, applesauce.Forlorn3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Look at me! Sad and lost.
Ripped and bruised and all cut up,
Who will clean my palate off?
Engine, engine, number nine
Don't doubt me, I'm just fine!
Hide my wrists and legs, oh dear!
Ignore me now and just stay clear.
One, two, three, four
Always coming back for more!
Sliced up nice and glued again,
Who would ever be my friend?
Five, six, seven, eight
Who can keep their thoughts straight?
Run and jump and scream and fly,
Please just stop--stop being shy!
Pattycake, pattycake, baker's man!
Youthful dreams that go kablam!
Hardened soul and ripped out heart--
Poor, poor you without a start!
Ring around the rosy,
I feel warm and cozy.
No more, no more,
Why'd I let my heart soar?
Hope is gone and dreams are torn,
And I can't help but be forlorn.
Numbed down now and can't look back,
Killed inside with one big thwack!
9/11I know that you're a stranger,9/113 years ago in Personal More Like This
But I want to hold your hand.
As we fly away from the flames,
And we'll scream before we hit land.
Nobody knows my name or yours,
They just know that we're dead.
Would you rather burn to death,
Or will you fly instead?
It's such a shame that this happened,
Things will never be the same.
What gives them motivation,
To help them fly the plane?
We're looking for a reason,
Only heaven knows why.
We can look away and forget all this,
Or we can face the sky.
Have you ever woken up at night,
And felt like you were falling?
Well, this time it is real,
And you won't wake up in the morning.
So, why don't you take my hand?
We can get to know eachother as we jump.
It's much better than burning,
All the blood that my heart pumps.
We'll be famous and remembered,
But the survivors will be heroes.
Nobody will know our identities,
They can't find the ones and zeros.
But as we paint the whole town red,
Strangers, holding hands,
As we break the paper chain,
And snap the rub
The Little ThingsThe Little ThingsThe Little Things3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The lake shone a bright, lustrous blue in the early afternoon sun. The sunlight glinted off the water under a perfectly cloudless sky. The water was smooth, with no wind to stir it as it lapped gently along the Michigan shoreline with the tide. The air was filled with the sound of people and the beach was pockmarked with the imprints of countless footprints in the dry, grainy sand. The sound of screaming children could be heard as they ran up and down the beach, expending their nearly boundless energy in some great adventure or game.
A man lay in the sand, smiling with his eyes closed. His hands were crossed behind his head as he let the sun's gentle, warm caress envelope his body. His close-cropped hair was splayed across his forehead and his heels dug lazily into the sand. His swim trunks were still dry, as he was content to stay and soak up the sun's rays for a while. He wore a colorful, flower-covered Hawaiian shirt, perfect for a day at the beach. He had waited a
MirrorI look in the mirror,Mirror2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and what do I see?
a disgusting reflection
staring back at me.
Perfection and beauty,
I'm simply not the person
whom I want to be.
Flawed and broken,
inside and out;
the truth is that I'm someone
the world can go on without.
ExpectationsExpected eyes,Expectations4 years ago in Scraps More Like This
Of these decisions I am expected:
To choose right,
Make no mistakes,
Make them proud
And to not disappoint.
Despite this me that's screaming to be let free
I am expected:
To stay quiet,
Not let it out,
To be a perfect doll--
At least until the night's done.
It's all too much to bear.
How can you meet up to perfect?
What hurts the most is the knowledge
That I have no wings to soar over those set bars,
And instead must admire them from the ground,
Accompanied by my shame.
MuteI rip out my vocal cordsMute2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
One at a time
With no disregard towards
The blood and gore I'm
Getting on my rotting palms
No one cares anyways
They wouldn't care if I was dropping bombs
They're too wrapped up in their own days
Why make myself mute
Now they can't hear me complain
About my oh so very cute
And insignificant pain
Now they won't need
To suffer anymore
They will be freed
From me, only a constant sore