BullyShh.Bully2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Demons in the shadows
They'll find a way
To get you.
Beatings, swallowing you.
Scars, defining you.
You know you're weak.
You can't fight a bully
When the bully's inside of you.
Never ThereNever ThereNever There2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They never knew, they never cared
Never felt when you were scared
Never there to hold your hand
And never there to guide your dreams
Ever oblivious to your intentions
Captivated by their own delusions
Pained by their mental intrusions
Buried at the bottom of a bottle
Never there when you’re alone
Not a single place to call your home
Their fights are all you’ve ever known
Of what parenting can be
AfraidHave you ever been afraid of yourself?Afraid2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's the worst feeling there is
because no matter what you do,
no matter what you try,
you can never escape it
because you're trapped inside yourself,
terrified of what could happen next,
afraid of who you could hurt,
afraid of what you might do.
In dreams, thoughts are only amplified.
In wakefulness, horrors become real.
You tell yourself it cant be real,
tell yourself its not who you truly are.
But it is.
And nothing can change it.
InsanityWhat is insanity?Insanity1 year ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Am I insane, and everybody else normal?
Or is it as my lover always says, that everyone thinking you're crazy is the sign of your being sane?
People say that imagination is the key to knowledge
Yet those whose minds are overflowing with creativity and imagined worlds are said to be insane.
If imagination and creativity are insanity
Then that creature haunts all the greatest minds in our world.
What is normal?
The people who spend their lives wishing for something more?
If insanity is trying to make those things real
Then I’ve got it bad.
Am I insane?
InsomniaInsomniaInsomnia2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Darkened eyes betray the lengthened nights
A pale face portrays tortured dreams
A fractured image
Tearing at the seams
Left alone in the darkness
Yet very much aware
Twisting and turning
It won’t shut down
It plagues the waking hours
And haunts the sleepless nights
No matter how many pills are taken
The feeling is never shaken
The mind is left forsaken
Why I DiedCan I tell you how I died?Why I Died1 year ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Why it rhymes with suicide.
Not because, I fell ill.
Not because, I swallowed pills.
Soon you'll see why I lie still.
Not because, I have drowned.
Not because of, Russian Roulette's
Deaf words of mine,
preach no sound.
Not because, the fault of life
Not because, the sharpened knife.
Real reason, why, tears went dry.
Not because, I jumped to fall.
Not because, this body I mauled.
The more I remember,
the harder too recall.
The true answer is i'm,
But to me,
the meaning of suicide:
We Can Fix YouEach step I take increases the annoying feeling in the pit of my stomach. I swallow desperately trying to get rid of that rock in my throat. It doesn't work.We Can Fix You3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"We can fix you, Danny..."
I freeze in my steps and bite my lip as I try to hold back the upcoming tears. Oh, how those words had stung. My stomach twists further in a knot as I remember the way Mom looked at me when she spoke those words.
Then I grit my teeth. No time to listen to some stupid words in my head that already had been said, I want this. I want to walk down that staircase and tell Mom and Dad that I want to be human again.
I close my eyes in frustration and frown deeply. I already had these doubts in the past weeks, and I'm not going through it all again. I simply can't.
This is what I want. It really is.
Three weeks ago my parents found out. They discovered my greatest secret ever. The secret I had put so much care in.
And then it fell apart.
It happened quickly, way too quickly. The one mo
HumansHumansHumans2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Such heartless creatures, who learn to lie.
They do not care if you happen to die.
Only focusing on what they like best, they either forget or shun the rest.
They disgust us, they do, with their pathetic souls.
As a matter of fact their souls have left, and all that remains is a simple brain.
A brain that allows them to simply stain.
Stain the planets who were deemed sane.
Alas, the race shall hopefully fall, for nothing lasts forever, nothing at all.
OuvertYou were the one who showed me how to breatheOuvert2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
How to open my mind and my eyes;
to the emptiness and vast
beauty (see also: suffering)
of the world around us; to touch
(and feel the sunshine on our backs)
and when my eyes opened
and with it came the slam of a door
you were afraid of what you saw
(left naked in the streets)
the abstract ebbs and flows of your
I was jealous at how miraculous it was
(without the necessity to go with gears and symmetrical lines)
you exiled yourself
closed the world away and turned to a darker corner where you could be alone with your thoughts
(Oh how I know those corners as well)
with the idea that you were not exiling yourself
you were banished (mais la verité te libérera)
you almost turned around completely
your back facing my front,
and I saw in your eyes:
The watery image of an old person,
weary with age
and in your irises (deeper to your retinas)
MyselfThe jar of tears has fallen to pieces, lost are the memories from within the creases.Myself2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They've all abandoned me, my silent friends, our bonds have withered beyond their ends.
So predictable this scene truly was, the girl who fell from not a single cause.
Twas my own fault, for I banished all help, rotted to pieces within myself.
Though alas a mark has been etched within stones, "My soul lives forever without my bones."
FragilityWe hold up our heads and look so strong,Fragility1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
But I am certain we are not what we seem:
We are nothing but breakable bodies
And far too fragile dreams.
With frail paper skin soaked with ink,
And bones just made of glass;
Cracked with every single hope
That does not come to pass.
origamitoday there was a girl with cutting scarsorigami3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
delicately folded across her Paper
thin wrists and over soft
if she was a paper creation, she'd be
a slightly tattered swan. because
i want to know her, unfold
her, find out
what lies underneath those
she wants to remove that black mask
from her white,
i am the bird with the broken wingAnd this is how the story goesi am the bird with the broken wing1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
There is no high in these winter lows
The love that left me has faded away
My tears blur the night into day
For I am the bird with the broken wings
Who has fallen behind the flock,
Now I have fallen by the way side.
With no one to pick me up.
The love that left me died in my arms,
Now things are all messed up.
I am floating beneath the water,
But I cannot get back up.
The silence floats around me,
Where there used to be your voice.
I reach out in the dark,
Hoping for your touch.
All there is, is empty sheets,
A reminder of my loss.
I shudder at what my life has become,
Fragments of glass spread around the floor,
I cut myself trying to pick the pieces up.
But this is how my story goes,
There was no high in my winter lows.
The love I lost hurt too much,
Now there is no night, there is no day.
Duty CallsPairing: Pitch Pearl, FentonxPhantomDuty Calls1 year ago in Romance More Like This
Summary: A late-night ghost attack forces Phantom to leave his lover's side.
Phantom tightened his hold around Fenton’s stomach and muffled his groan in the other boy’s black hair. He did not want to get up. He wouldn’t get up. Just this once, he was going to ignore the world and lie in bed with his other half until the sun rose. He deserved that much.
Another chill raced up his spine and vaporized on his breath. Two ghosts…This time the sleeping human shivered, groaning. Fenton’s spine curled against the other teen’s midsection as he pulled his legs away from Phantom’s, tucking them closer against his own stomach to foster body heat. He ducked his head on the pillow and pulled the thick comforter closer around his shoulders, tucking the bottom half of his face underneath.
If he was going to cause his partner discomfort by staying, there was little choice to be had…T
I am weakI am weak becauseI am weak2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I can't swim,
I can't fly.
I can't speak.
Because I am afraid of the
I am weak because
I let my emotions in my way,
I don't stand up,
I just die.
I am weak because,
when I was called a
dumb birthday slut,
I just cried.
Because when I was bullied,
I just kept silent.
When I was thought of
having a disease,
suicide was my only thought.
But at the end I realised
that I am not weak,
I am strong.
I was strong enough to
not commit suicide,
to blossom from my cuts,
to speak for my own.
Because I was strong enough
to realise that no matter
I will always be weak.
BrutalityRip my heart out nowBrutality1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Take it, and as you leave me
Forget and crush it
ItPorous wastes of rotting flesh, its stench and puss bubble within the mesh.It2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Gaseous acid oozes down, peeling tissue and obliterating sound.
Slugs and maggots feast and crawl, their sticky bodies cling to it all.
Diseases and growths replace its eyes, the thing only lounges here, nevermore it flies.
This vulgar blob of continuous waste, has at last become a bucket of paste.
Groaning and bleeding for a soul to eat, remove it quickly, dispose of the meat.
Empty it into the Lake of Storm, witness it shrivel and painfully deform.
It's flesh shall crease and bleed to dust, once you leave it, forget its lust.
Canvas Is The MirrorA canvas is a mirrorCanvas Is The Mirror1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
The paint drips down with my reflection
The canvas is my mirror
But only because
The canvas is me.
The canvas is your mirror
As the brush tickles its surface
The canvas is our mirror
The canvas is a mirror
The depth of the artwork stares back into my
After all, I do not paint a canvas
Because the canvas
InjectionHey red snake, slip down my arm -Injection1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Stain my wrists & the floor;
Not for long, my blood is warm -
It hits me hard, the pleasure starts...
But now it's fading.
My mind is weak, my hands are raw.
I'm begging, please! You've got me on my knees.
You're in my head twisting threads
I'm stuck inside your web.
Trapped like a fly, just waiting for death.
Why did you come back?
Wont you leave me alone!
My porcelain composure is cracking under your willpower of stone.
The demon in my heart has reawakened with a jolt -
Your almighty hand just won't let go.
I'm fighting for control.
Release my heart - untie my mind...
I'm struggling for freedom;
Im trapped! Blind.
In the distance, so far I see,
What being with you has done to me.
MentalityA trick of the mind is all it takesMentality2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
To make you make some big mistakes.
From the Phone records of Danny Fenton, Oct 10(419): Hi PhantomFrom the Phone records of Danny Fenton, Oct 102 years ago in Romance More Like This
(631): Hi, Danny, something wrong? You're supposed to be asleep.
(419): I know, how's your patrol going? catch any mischievous malefactors yet?
(631): A few. The Box Ghost of course and a couple others. About to make a pass over downtown.
(419): so many ghost and so little time. It feels strange sitting on the sidelines while someone else take care of it. I actually got all my homework finished and was in bed by ten.
(631): Quite an accomplishment for us. Well, you.
(631): So if you had an early night, why up so late now? You have school tomorrow.
(419): Don't know, can't sleep.. I've be staring at the celling for an hour now.
(631): Lol, bet your body won't appreciate that come morning.
(631): I'll admit, it's nice to have you as company now, though. It's usually lonely.
(631): Well, as much company as you can get from text messages.
Broken Mirror: Chapter 4Broken Mirror: Chapter 42 years ago in Romance More Like This
Chapter 4: A Temporary Truce
Danny Fenton, codename "Hunter," leaned against the handle bars of his bike, his body slumped backwards on the leather seat as he relaxed in the afternoon sunshine. His trench coat hung from one of the handlebars, discarded in the wake of warm weather. The screen belonging to the satellite ghost tracker in the dashboard flashed, the words 'unable to locate target' written in block green letters across the map of the United States.
Hunter wasn't watching the screen though. He preferred to work things out himself, with good old pen and paper—or in this case, a map and a sharpie.
The map was held open to display the same area of the US as the screen, but this version had a series of pen marks, mostly scattered around the major highways and leading north from Wisconsin to Minnesota. There were thirty in total. The black marks were for the locations where a white haired ghost boy in a black jumpsuit had been spotted. The red ones were for encounters Hunter
Sherlock Phantom - Tales of New Russen: Prologue Sherlock Phantom: The Tales of New RussenSherlock Phantom - Tales of New Russen: Prologue2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
Welcome to the Tales of New Russen, where mystery, magic, and ghostly tales will prevail. Together we will muster our journey with Eugene Sherlock Phantom, a white-haired teen detective who sets out to look for his sister's whereabouts and solving brutal murderous cases in New Russen. Today, we shall start before the real story begins...in the wealthy city of Corosha, where Phantom has been raised...
In the whitened wealthy city of Corosha, many tall white buildings spread throughout the landscape. Clusters of miniture mansions lined the streets, with few cars and horse carraiges. In its mist, a grand school building was set into view, with its Roman-like entrance and side doors. Apart from the building, a round spherical dome building stood nearby, with shelves of books and information on various technologies and gruesome tales. A white-haired teenager stood on the edge on one of the ladders, trying to reach out for
Stolen KissI wish I was a poem. I wish I could be summed in three stanzas and bring shimmering relief to literature students on dreary Monday mornings. I wish to be the sugar they sprinkle into tea they drink from carnival glass to make them relax. If only they could read and have me brush along their jawlines, tingle in their fingertips like the lit fuse on a firecracker. If they read me aloud I would taste of pureed flowers, frost thin and light with marigold their every spoken word.Stolen Kiss2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(College tastes like burnt bagels and monsters. It’s wanting to run forever, but being unable to move. The lines are too long. Too slow. Sleep sticks like peanut butter to everyone’s brains and lashes. They’re zombies because they know the end is near, shuddering in panic from winter chills and confusion, so desperate for some meaning.)
I asked one of these people, a tattooed girl, if I could taste her breath. “Sorry, I’ve just run out,” she said, hot steam from her sweat misting