Castles in the airCastles in the air3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Even the fools daydream...
That something could go on well,
oh, for a single time
they build castles in the air,
daring to hope, dream
to find a temporary haven of peace
to escape to during the winter
and dream of spring...
If I could see you againIf I could see you again4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Upon a setting moon, casting its light over the ocean it sees
Does a heart look for a home now, beyond what to it is free
With a scarlet ribbon just ducking over the horizon, where it stays
Next to the glistening sun in all its glory, sending out its life, its rays
With night setting fast, the stars reveal themselves, no secrets anymore
Apart from where the scars still lie, where the heart still feels rancour
Washed away it can for a while, by the crystal rain, without a sign of sin
Where upon shooting light do wishes make it, what would it could've been
Where life lies, where death dies, where dreams appear, where love grows
A setting veil upon the world, with what it holds, time, that nobody knows
If a tale was true, a myth could prove so happy real, can reality be no more, no lie
Can the lives of loved ones, farewelled on earth, be carefully taken towards the sky
When tears are of both joy and of woe, from the heart, not knowing where to go
When memories are forever, when memories m
Missing Pieces.I am a missing piece. Something that someone needs.Missing Pieces.3 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
But at the same time, I feel so incomplete.
I’ve wandered way too far, wondered for far too long
Am I a missing piece? Or a piece that won’t belong?
Is it possible I’m damaged and not missing at all?
That I’m just as dysfunctional as everybody else?
Pretending to be perfect never softened a single fall.
But neither did admitting that you’re broken and flawed.
A broken missing piece. Is that all I’m meant to be?
There is no master plan that includes the likes of me.
Being all alone, it’s a hurt that will not cease.
A hundred thousand years from now
I’ll still be
Proxy PledgeI am a Proxy.Proxy Pledge3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I live only to serve.
You are my Master.
I will fight and die for you.
I am willing to accept
that my normal life is over.
I know that I cannot
return to how I was.
I will accept
any mission without question.
I will complete
any mission without fail.
I will accept my partner
no mater who he is.
I will not question
why I have been given one.
I cannot question.
I will not disobey.
I am aware that I can be replaced.
I do not expect kind treatment from my master.
I am not human, nor am I a demon.
I am a Proxy.
And I'm here to serve you.
The Strange Life and Love of Leo Valdez Part 2 The Strange Life and Love of Leo Valdez Part 2The Strange Life and Love of Leo Valdez Part 23 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Leo had forgotten all about his best friend's birthday, probably the worst mistake he could have made.
He'd left Jason's gift back at the bunker; if he could go get it quickly
He heard a clanking whirring sound behind him and turned to find Buford just behind his cabin. A drawer popped open to reveal the gift.
"Dude," Leo said, "You are the best table in the history of furniture."
CanadaXReader- Photography PartnersCanadaXReader- Photography PartnersCanadaXReader- Photography Partners3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"______! Matthew is here!" Your mother calls from the living room.
"I'll be out in a moment!" You shout back. You throw on a red tank top and white shorts. You like your photography partner... a lot. And since he is Canadian, this outfit will definitely impress him.
A bit nervous, you sigh pulling your (h/c) hair into a sport ponytail.(A/N: Ignore that if your hair is too short for a ponytail.) Mr. (teacher's l/n), the digital photography teacher, had assigned you class to "Capture nature while telling a story". You really don't understand what he meant, but your friend Matthew did. He said he knew the perfect place to go. Alfred, Matthew's brother, would be, of course, tagging along.
Throwing your camera around your neck, you rushed out of your room and toward the living room. Your hair bouncing with each movement. In the living room, Matthew is ducking under his blond hair, his face as red as your tank top.
"Hey.. Uh.. What's wrong Mattie?"
Maybe you are my inner demonMaybe you are my inner demon3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I have my inner demons.
And they are tearing me apart.
Through my rib cage,
They are eating away my heart.
I have you,holding me tight.
You can feel the pulse of my soul
I am afraid,save me.
Make those evil creatures go.
I have monsters under my bed.
They whisper only bullshit in my ear.
Their voices are so quiet for others,
But so loud for me to hear.
I feel like losing my balance,
I will fall soon,
I wonder,did Lucifer
Have his inner demons,too.
I trust them,
And they say you'll leave.
It's like they want to kill.
But you caught my body,
You're the one with my soul's key.
With the color of my artery's blood
on your body,you said to me:
"Don't talk to monsters under your bed,
Cause they don't like us at all.
Sleep,I am here,my love.
They don't know what we know."
Those who....Those who....5 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
"Those who proudly say that they are Christians, but hate the Jews are hypocrites."
Alone Again: Family [Rivaille x Reader] Part 2 The sun was just about to set when you finished your loaf of bread. Rivaille stood up and dusted himself off, and gestured for you to follow him. You also stood up and wiped away the bread crumbs on your dress.You followed him to an entrance of a cellar. He opened up the doors and went inside. You followed him in, and your mouth went wide open. The cellar was immaculate. The little window it had was polished so well that it looked transparent. The stone floor was clean and it seemed that no dirt had ever touched anything in the room. In a corner stood a small bedside table and a sleeping mat. It was folded neatly, and a small drawer held perfectly folded clothing. You walked around the small room, gawking at everything.Alone Again: Family [Rivaille x Reader] Part 22 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"Are you done yet?" You suddenly remembered that Rivaille was the one who cleaned this place. He was leaned on a wall, where a small table held a burning candle.
"It's so clean..." you said quietly, scared that if you spoke
writers blockeach word i writewriters block5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it seems wrong
like the lines do not meet the paper
they do not belong
the pencil breaks
my earaser is dead
from scratching the paper
a hole rips
into the paper
the anger gets worse
the fire burns brighter
another crumpled paper
lies on the floor
a new clean paper
to destroy once more
Help MeMy bonesHelp Me5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Abuse, neglect, pain.
Harder to breathe with every blow.
I'd run and run and run
if there were somewhere left to go.
Hear me howl.Tell me again, Father,Hear me howl.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I’m the perfect daughter-
when all I want to be
is the crescent moons
resting like strong soldiers
in the grooves of my palms.
I am but
quaking with frostbite,
numbed with rage.
A wolf's jaw:
locked, teeth tearing
into the chilled flesh
of your neck.
hanging from the rafters in the skyclocks in a motel room;hanging from the rafters in the sky3 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
the years go by like one day
with these old photos in my hands.
how do cities understand?
that by skating on the edge of the world
we carve north stars in Styrofoam
on the edge of reality.
we are all waiting to be found
when stars die.
(i used to have a name)
now i'm dreaming of the simple things,
and i'm ready to fight my way.
somebody told me:
"i have loved the stars too fondly."
between gray and gold
there are flaking photographs and shattered memories;
the heartlines of drunken sinners chasing stars.
cold hearted, you bound our spines.
(and breathe out)
it is not enough to know the colors of my soul,
like a painting hung all wrong, or
and unwanted diary.
dreams catch in the lungs.
let go, little bird.
(but don't forget me)
without you, my fickle muse,
the city daydreams,
desperate to connect with
the world near your feet.
(lost wishes can be found
CuriosityYou search for stability, but just breathe in more truth.Curiosity5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The gates are open, and the flood is here.
It's your own fault, now drown in it.
PerspectivePerspective3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The looking glass extends throughout
All splatters of pure clear
A reality that hasn't begun
All innocently of mind
The stares of the unknown
Are stepping stones across
The bridge of perspective
The perspective from within
Redden streaks merge with white
Staining all lies inside
Bringing them all out into the surface
Over the edge of the terrence
Crossing over that gap
With the sharpened demons below
Waiting to devour
Waiting only to steal
The planks upon which they walk
Creak and fall with every step
With steps further they take along
A new perspective of reality
Why?I have that feeling,Why?5 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
were I'm in a lost in a school corridor,
all the doors are locked,
with people laughing and being happy inside,
I come to the end of the corridor,
which is covered with stained glass,
but i can't see the colours through my tears,
I try so hard to see through,
to call out to the ones outside,
but I can't see them and them me,
my sadness turns to anger,
and instead of cries of desperation,
comes screams of suffering,
I hit the window,
smash it with my bare hands,
anything that breaks the barrier,
between the world I never had,
my anger consumes my mind and energy,
leaving my bones dry and brittle,
I crumble to the floor,
light of many colours,
dance upon my skin,
the deafening cracks,
do not awaken me from my despair,
rain falls on my battered skin,
but where should be water,
was only pain and blood,
with only one word on my lips,
the barrier fell,
just like in the life I lived,
the world I dreamt of was only a shell,
leaving only darkness behind,
as big as the hole
You didn't dare.She smiled,You didn't dare.3 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
but it was fake.
but she's about to break.
She reached out,
but no one came,
tried to fake it,
but the pain stayed the same.
This girl, she called to you,
but you didn't care.
Something told you to help,
but you didn't dare.
What would the others say?
The ones who called her a freak.
They may taunt or shun you,
so you choose not to speak.
Then she decides to leave.
Because no one wants her here.
You'll never see her cry.
She'll never shed another tear.
Adventures of a Glaceon, ch 76Chapter Seventy-Six: The Last ChanceAdventures of a Glaceon, ch 763 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Lucius bit the Garchomp's wing pressing hard against his throat, pinning him up against the wall about a metre off the ground. It was hard to bite through the rubbery scales, however, and Garchomp just ignored him drawing blood. As its thousands of teeth came closer and closer to bite off his head, Lucius really wished he could breathe fire into the dragon's face, but that was impossible as he couldn't breathe at all. No amount of struggling against the wing moved it.
A black flurry of feathers hit Garchomp in the face, surprising it so it stopped pressing on Lucius' throat for a moment. He fell down, drew a big breath, and exhaled flames all over Garchomp's lower body, but the dragon was barely harmed by his fire. Lucius growled: that stupid Selene was actually doing more damage than him, scratching around its head while it tried to catch her. Not wanting to be outdone by that airhead, Lucius dug his teeth, infused with dark energy, into Garchomp's
PhotographyTo steal a soul or a moment in timePhotography8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Its a wonderful invention and art
Snap a photo here, click a frame there
Just a moment in time
Trapped forever in its frame
And put upon your wall
Such as you would shoot an animal
And mount its head
But isnt that all photography is?
Isnt that all hunting is?
An art, trapping something forever
Capturing something that will be stared at
For the rest of eternity
Is this what art has become?
thiefMy name is Thief. But no one really called me that. It was just a name I crafted for myself.thief6 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
It was appropriate. I have stolen without anyone noticing me a lot of things from a lot of people who had a lot of reasons why they lost a lot of smiles.
Just last year, I stole a car. Your repair-addicted car that broke down every week, and used up your money (for repairs) every month, and took up all your savings (from all your hard work) every year. Still, you loved the car. And its sudden absence broke your heart. You frowned, sulked, and mourned.
I hope you can recall your wide smile as you sat down to the dinner you treated your family to: the dinner you bought from the savings of a car repair-free week.
A few months ago, I stole a son. A son who would always come home (very late) with bruises from a fight, or report cards marked "failed" (in blood red ink), or girls (disrespected and devirginized) paid to make love. Still, his parents loved him. And his sudden abse
Love me, Love me notIt's funnyLove me, Love me not5 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
That a fourty-year-old and a fourteen-year old
Can say the exact same thing:
of sucking in my stomach
when I'm around my boyfriend
Of not being able to be myself,"
I love acceptance
I am acceptance
But if acceptance
Doesn't love me back,
The point of trying
Accuse me of being crazy
If you must
If it makes you feel powerful
But accusing only brings our hearts
Farther and farther apart
I can't be what I am not;
What you expect of me
I am just
And now there's only one more thing
End it now
If you must
I don't have to love you
That I love myself.