A writer is a person Who sees the world differently From a high perspective of understanding To an easily balanced imagery
They stand at the edge of the cliff And run that extra mile To gain what a normal person cannot see And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish
A writer is a person Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules And make writing their own
They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down They want to show their abnormality to everyone around And make this journey an unforgettable experience
Writers are masters of inspiration And will set aside whatever may ruin the ecstasy of their writing Which they will forever embrace And will fight to claim the title author
In their world of words Their stories are set free Some are killed to bring back a greater life And return like a dazzling Phoenix
Dearest reader, please think twice before you try to speak Words can be like knives that cause the victim to grow weak Thoughts can be as bullets shooting freely through the sky Injuring the innocent with every spoken lie
Please forget my laughter, please forget my broken heart Please do not remember how you tore my life apart Leave me as a memory that slowly fades to grey Spend your days as usual, and I shall fade away
Listen to my cry for help, although it is too late I've become the monster that you struggled to create Trying to be perfect was a wonderful mistake… Now I mustn't worry about which chance I will take.
Please erase all memory of who I tried to be Please do not remember how I tried to be set free Please do not be saddened under any circumstance … What's makes now so different from when you still had a chance?
Feel the broken heartbeats ripping through your troubled soul Tearing through your very skin to take complete control Hear the words among your tongue through voices not your own Slicing through the air and fighting for the golden throne
Sorrowful, you disappear into the shadows thick Blanketing yourself with thoughts so cruel, so cold, so sick Knowing that if only you had someone to be near Every aching memory would likely disappear
Shattered bits of moonlight shine upon the broken earth Proving once again how much an echo may be worth Let the damaged hearts unite and save them from the lies Let them see that love is not always a dark disguise…
"Are you okay?" No. I'm dying. I have to push myself to wake up in the morning, and when I finally do, I want to go back to sleep. Even my best dreams are becoming nightmares. I can't taste food, I can't stand the things I used to love. I'm breaking. I'm fading. I'm dying. "I'm fine."
Shadows burn beneath my soul Into a life you'll never know This is what i'm forced to be Through the world's eternity Demon on the wall I hear your angry call So sink into my thought And let me breathe again
Let me win the war and Fight the silver swords and I'll release the demon I have kept within Tell my every villain I have found a way I can see solutions I'll eliminate Skies of grey...
2 cups love 1/2 tsp. listening 1 cup acceptance 1/4 tbsp. support 1 tsp. romance 3 cups of understanding 1/2 cup honesty 1/4 tsp. affection 3/4 tbsp. loyalty
1. Stir all these ingredients together except the phrase "I love you". Leave that out for 3 month or whenever it feels right. 2. Bake for years and don't ever let it cool down. 3. Never add cheating or abuse to the mix or else the recipe will fall apart. If done correctly results should end in marriage and children.
Written: today, about 2 hours to write due to distractions & perfectionism Note: I actually wrote this one down first but posted The recipe for a happy life ([link]) first. If things are simliar it's just a coincidence. I also kinda find this ironic considering I'm not in a relationship...unfortunately 's weekly prompt:A recipe for...
Down a green meadow, across the blue river, lay a quiet little village. A peaceful community never stirred by any chaotic hustle and bustle, never frantic as the city life many miles over. Located on the outside of the small village lived one family in particular: the Trenchers. Mr. and Mrs. Trencher, a humble farmer, a big bushy beard like that of Father Christmas, warm greeting eyes, a face of a worker and a bulging gut, and his wife, flowing locks of blonde hair, eyes the shine of sapphires, the face of the sweetest that could be. People often wondered why she married a man of such gruffness, the answer was simple: she loved him. The husband and wife lived with their two kids, Ian and Tisa, a cheeky rascal of 8 and delicate sweetest angel of 5. Mommy's boy, Daddy's girl. Although not a perfect family by any means, they'd have their quarrels, disagreements, family feuds. The family stood together through thick and thin, through thunderous storms and gentle calm. If one fell, the other helped them to rise. Like all families, they would come home from a tiring school day, return from a labouring day at work to spend quality time as a family, read stories, share tales of their eventful day away from home, Ian frequently had some account of cheeky misbehaviour he had done at school to get the teacher redder than a ripe tomato. They'd celebrate family occasions like birthdays and Christmas. Mr. Trencher would surprise his kids by turning up at their little farmhouse dressed as Chris Cringle himself, a disguise made effortless due to his already ideal appearance. Life was good on the Trenchers farm housing a loving family so close together. And what family would be complete without a pet. After all, a home is not complete without the lively company of a 4 legged companion. A furry friend. The Trenchers had the pet of all pets, boy oh boy did they have one. His name was David, and he was a dog, a big, sloppy bulk of a dog. When he wasn't slobbering his family with wet kisses, he enjoyed frolicking out in the farmland getting himself mucked up in all kinds of mud, dirt and things best left unsaid. David was a good dog for the most part, but when it came to bath time, he became a whole different story. A trial and a half it was getting him in the dreaded tub of water to clean the muck out his fur. The chase outside was usually a strenuous one, never did they catch him in their efforts, never could they give him a good cleaning. After the ordeal, David would resume his place as family dog, giving his love to all. Throwing in the towel of trying to clean him, the smell had become so accustomed to them, that it smelt as clear as the air outside. He loved the Trenchers and the Trenchers loved him. The village, however was a different story, they loathed the unbearable stench their dog's odour carried off with it, fouling the freshness of their baked goods, making their flowers reek, and themselves stink as if they had not bathed in a year. By the end of the day, when the stench faded as the dog went indoors, it was a relief. The smell was a passable annoyance. One day however, such was not the case. David had decided to venture further from the farm than usual, getting dirtier than often. He leaped in dirty patches, rolled in the muck of the earth and swam in the pits of the moors. The smog his body brought travelled to the humble village, a stench far more potent than ever smelt before. The last straw had been plucked, the mayor and his people decided enough was enough, something had to be done with The Dirty Dog. Together, they stormed to the Trenchers Farm, ready to siege it, declaring that they give up their dog so they can live a smell free life. David heard the footsteps of angry trotting following his potent odour, quickly he fled to his home, leaving a odours for the furious village to track. Surrounding the farm, the Trenchers stood before the enraged mob filthy from their trek through the fields to get to the farm, adamant they were to have David removed from the village. The Trenchers refused, they'd rather leave than give up one of their family. The village decided if that's what it took to make their home fresh again was to get rid of the family who refused to clean their dog and let it run dirty then so be it. The mob stood to an abrupt halt when an unexpected sight graced their eyes, a dog walked outside, standing in front of his family. He looked like The Dirty Dog, only his fur was spotless, his scent was sweet as strawberries, surely it wasn't the same dog, but it was. Ian and Tisa, before the siege had finally given David a bath. Now he was clean as could be, and still as loving as ever. Ready to stand by his family and never leave their side. He would take the fall for them if it needed to be done. The village saw something that made them ashamed. The dog, although dirty on the outside was clean on the inside, while they clean on the outside were dirty on the inside. They learned that anyone should not be judged simply by appearances, the outside is merely the doorway, it's the being within that houses who and what we are. From that moment on, the village respected him from his pure heart, allowed him to do as he wished because deep down, he was cleaner than they ever were. To this day David is still getting mucky, evading the bath as much as he can and returning to Trenchers Farm to spend time with his family, and always will. Once a family, always a family. On a side note, the village strives every day to follow the way of the Trenchers and their dirty dog.