Six Trillion Years and Overnight Story -Eng lyricsTranslyrics by JoyDreamerSix Trillion Years and Overnight Story -Eng lyrics2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
My Cover: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZUwTzlYE7c
In a town somewhere in an era unknown
Lived a boy so cold with no name of his own
Known to none this is his one and only fairy tale
Ever since the time that I was born
I was treated just like a demon to scorn
On my skin, you'll see my sin in punishment I took
But I really never had any reason to be sad
I was always led away, with the sunset after day
I don't know, I don't know, I just really do not know
All this kindness is unknown 'cause I'm really a foe
I don't know how it feels in the warmth right after rain
Yet I'm really, I'm really, I'm really, I'm really cold as I remain
I won't die, I won't die, I don't know why I won't die
And I'm not even dreaming, someone please tell me why?
This is my fairy tale, it is unknown everywhere
And was sucked in the sky for the sunset to take and then vanish into air
In my life of pain and hatred and blood
I just felt the scorn and much disregard
the right way to let gocould you pull me inthe right way to let go2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with a gravity tow?
to let me go
into a better orbit
Please (Don't) Hate MeIf I told you a liePlease (Don't) Hate Me2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
But it made you smile
Would it still be a sin?
If I opened the door
But turned you away
Would you still come in?
If I sliced my skin
But it didn't hurt
Would it still be wrong?
If I acted all brave
But couldn't face it
Would I still be strong?
If I tied my noose
Around a tree's open arms
Would it be an embrace?
If I left tonight
And begged you stay
Would you still give chase?
If I committed sin
But hurt nobody
Would I be welcome above?
If I do something you hate
But only for your good
Could it still be true love?
DO's and DON'Ts of OCsDOs and DONTs of Creating OCs.DO's and DON'Ts of OCs6 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
I'm not a brilliant or fantasmically talented writer, but I know a decent OC when I see one. Or at least a non-crappy one.
I think we know how this works. Here we go
1. DO Try to vary your OCs personalities. In the real world, if everyone had the same awesome, flawless character, life would be mind-numbingly BORING. Also, not everyone is nice/horrible/depressed/energetic all the time. (Unless, of course, you want to use that as a flaw.)
2. DONT get too hung up on making profiles for your characters. Profiles are for procrastinators who want to make a fantastic character without getting started on the actual story. I was guilty of it too, before I realised how boring filling out the same form over and over again was.
Try describing them in the story, THEN make notes to help you remember stupid boring details like their star-sign and eye colour so you dont accidentally change them halfway through the st
Your poemThis poem is from youYour poem3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Written down by me
Although it isn't mine
It's yours, don't you see?
I write down the words
but they come from your mind
even though you don't know
what you leave behind
I pick up what's left
and put it all together
I don't know what I do
but it's for the better
You say you can't write
but that's not your need
Just simply be there for me
it's the poet inside me you feed
HuntedHunted3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Inspired by andersoncathy's 'They're looking for Us'
It wasn't like Serah to lie of course, it also wasn't like Serah to run away from home, abandoned all sense and get lost in quite possibly the most dazzling, yet confusing city in the world Palumpolum.
She had, for an instance of time, entertained the idea of telling her sister everything of what had happened and how she, in a completely innocent manner had accidently walked in on PSICOM soldiers and their commander murdering civilians.
She hadn't been seen, not at first. She had ducked down behind an old toppled pillar inside the strange vestige and hid. Serah had heard their victims beg for their lives, and how the commander had simply told them they were tainted and shot them. The girl had run then, disappearing into the darkness of the ruins she so loved to explore. There was no doubt in her mind that PSICOM had seen her, but she was nobody remarkable. It'd take them time to weed o
Seven DaysSeven days clean.Seven Days2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It may not seem like much
But to me it means the world.
Seven days without self-mutilation.
The last cut turning into a pink ribbon scar
Looking worse than it did before.
I'm not ashamed of it.
The only reason it stays hidden,
Well is in case I can't keep myself together anymore.
Each bracelet is assurance that no one will know.
But one taken off for each day I'm okay.
When someone does see it
A simple lie comes out.
My cat scratched me,
They immediately buy it.
Seven days and not a single problem.
People may think it's nothing,
When in all reality it means
One day I will be strong
That I can overcome it all.
FriendlessThere's a little boy who walks to school,Friendless2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Nobody knows his name.
No matter what he tries to do,
It is always the same.
He keeps up with all the trends,
He knows them inside out.
Each one he pulls off perfectly,
Even that selfie-photo pout.
Each week he brings a box of muffins,
Though nobody knows why.
He used to try and hand them out,
Now he doesn't even try.
He shares the muffins with the crows
and eats them one by one.
For consuming that much sugar,
He sure looks miserable when he's done.
He looks down at the empty box
and you see a little smile.
The crows fly off and he lies down;
They'll all be full for quite a while.
The same routine, every week,
I think so that he can pretend,
That in the year that he's been here,
He's made at least one friend.
The Mucky AngelIt was a cold day in late November when the angel first perched atop the tree. It was not like the angels that had come before. Where once little bulbs had flickered, LEDs now beamed their glorious light out into the sky. Where once a ratty cotton garment had swung glumly in the breeze, elegant synthetic fabrics now fluttered joyfully, wreathing the plastic limbs with silken life. And where once flaking paint had stood for features—eyes and nose—a head of polyethylene looked down upon the crowd, outsmiling the children far below. The angel was a marvel, sparkling with fifty colours atop the tree, but most marvellous of all was the sign it held before it. In shining liquid crystal, the sign blazed out its message to the crowd: "SEASON'S GREETINGS." And the sign too blinked and flashed.The Mucky Angel2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Yes, the angel was a marvel. And the angel knew this. It knew it in the happy faces of the shoppers, and it knew it in its own light. For nothing else upon that tree could outdo the angel. No bauble held
Assassin of the OperaASSASSIN OF THE OPERAAssassin of the Opera4 years ago in Profiles More Like This
As usual, it was another beautiful day in Venice. The sun reigned pleasantly in the sky, children played in the streets, vendors clamored for attention, birds sang their sweet songs to any who would listen, and a pleasant breeze swept through the city, providing a wonderful environment.
With all of its serene beauty, it was difficult to believe all the dirty corruption and vile injustice that went on within Venice's walls. Ezio sighed and paused for a moment on the Venetian walkway. It was days like these he hated being an Assassin. On a day when life was blossoming everywhere around him, he despised being the one to take it away. But, he reasoned as he took a seat on a nearby marble bench, taking a moment from his vigil- the Templars were out there, and they didn't take a vacation just because it was nice out.
It was as he was contemplating his life there on that lonely bench that he first laid eyes on it. At a first glance, it was nothing but a simple p
Mind, oh MindSmiley face, smiley face, can't you ever see?Mind, oh Mind2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
So much to be sad about, so much that could be
Going wrong for everyone, going wrong for you.
Smiley face, smiley face, don't you feel it too?
Sad face, sad face, can't you ever tell?
So much could be going great, going oh so well
Sad face, sad face, can't you ever see?
Life is spend much better when your thinking thoughts of glee.
Mind, oh mind, why can't you agree?
Thinking everything at once is slowly killing me...
North Korea, South Korea"Ah-h-h," his light eyes remain unfocused as he sits there, quietly staring down at the map of the peninsula. His finger traces along the near center, cutting the land mass in two. North and South.North Korea, South Korea5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"That's right," I say calmly, as he traces the line again across the map. It's not a perfect straight line, it goes upwards, then straight, then upwards again. Known as the 38th parallel, the demilitarized zone, this place still haunts my grandfather in his nightmares. Though it has been years since the war, since he has come home, since he has continued living on his life in the most rational way possible, my grandfather had finally cracked-up.
Mom took him in, but I was the one sitting by his side for most hours of the day while I finished my homework and occasionally had one-sided conversations with him.
If you could call it that. He rarely moved or spoke, unless you put a map of the Korean peninsula out in front of him, and then he'd trace that line perfectly again and again. We consider
Leaving The Trash On The Side Of The RoadOn the days where you can think of nothingLeaving The Trash On The Side Of The Road2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you doubt that you have any talent,
remember that your audience is
mostly other artists.
Most music is heard by
and this poem will be read
by entirely other writers
and a few fans,
who maybe just want me
to spout off about
sex and death again.
Or, in some of my better work,
condemn another novelty,
but nobody seems to get
HeldWhen you took me from my petalHeld2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and cupped my frailty
between your hands,
it was like my chrysalis was back
and I am changing again.
It was just as warm as I
paintbrushed your palms
with my monarch wings.
You opened up your smallest fingers,
and I saw five hundred facets
of your child's eye.
I saw every angle of your innocence,
I saw the sheen on your corneas
when you flitted those threadbare wings.
I saw the shoebox with corners
like a prism.
And your call was so loud
when you carried me home.
And I witnessed
your five hundred pins,
and five hundred books.
With five hundred fingers you
pinched me out,
and held me to brutal surgery.
I can feel my death like pollen
on a candy bar.
I only ask you start
with my insides.
Only What I AmWant to know something?Only What I Am5 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
The world isn't going to end
If I'm not straight
If I'm not heterosexual
If I'm not normal.
Want to know something?
I hate it when people say
That being gay is wrong
That being gay is a sin
That being gay makes you a freak
Want to know something?
Some parents say
Why did you choose to be gay?
Why did you turn away from God?
Why did you do this to me?
Well, it isn't about you
Nor is it about me.
We have just as much choice
About being gay
As we do about
The color of our eyes
The height of our bodies
The color of our skin
The shape of our face
The anatomy of our form
Maybe it just happens this way?
Maybe we were just born like this?
I know that it isn't easy to understand
Mom and Dad
But I still love you.
And I am still your little girl.
I didn't choose this.
It choose me.
I didn't turn away from God.
He has always walked next to me.
I didn't mean to make you feel this way.
I just need to follow my heart.
I am only as pure on the outside as I am on the insi
Beyond the Sun OneIt was a freezing cold winter evening in New York City. The biting cold wind whipped Zacky Baker's hair around his windburned and reddened face.Beyond the Sun One4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"S-spare change?" he asked a gloved hand outstretched and his teeth chattering from the cold. He repeated that phrase God only knew how many times, Saying it to each passer-by who happened to make eye-contact with the sixteen year old boy. Most said nothing, ignoring his trembling voice but a few were kind enough to donate a penny here, or, if he was really lucky, a dollar or two. Some people on the other hand would curse at him, telling him he was worthless, to with he would hang his head and mumble a soft "I know." The teenager was huddled against a brick building, hoping that it would provide him with even the tinest bit of warmth.
He kept at it until late at night, when even the drunks stumbling out of the bars went home. When the streets went quiet, Zacky knew it was time for sleep. Counting out his daily earning, he made a grand total of
Crayon DrawingMy brother drew me a giraffe today,Crayon Drawing2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
an orange and brown thing
with a square body and
a neck so long,
it’s head was off the page.
We took him to the zoo yesterday,
where he got to feed one
a fist-full of leaves.
He came back and exclaimed,
“it’s tongue was black!
Sissy, go see!”
And I replied,
“the crowds are thick,
I won’t be able to breathe.”
I came home to find
a crayon drawing taped
to my door,
and a promise that
“I’ll grow big and strong,
and hold you up,
so you can see the head.”
ChangeI love youChange3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
( but I love you more
than you love me!)
(but it's not your fault!)
But it is my fault, and I
never meant to hurt you
(No, I never meant to hurt you...)
And I can't lose you; it would break me
(and it would break my heart)
You're the best thing in my life
(You do help me, I've someone to love in life)
and it's all the same, all the same
we mean well, but we don't say
what we mean
because we don't know how
and it's terrifying
and it's going to change me
(I'm afraid of how you'll change me)
But we'll be alright
(I love you)
I love you.
+This I Believe+I believe in friendship.+This I Believe+5 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
I was only 6 years old when my family moved to Colorado, and yet at that young age, I was worried. I left behind 4 good friends in Peru, and being a child, I was convinced that I would never be able to find another good friend again. I distinctly remember sitting in the back of my car, surrounded by gifts my classmates and my 4 friends had given me at a surprise going away party, and crying. I was crying because I knew I would probably never see them again.
My first day of American school came around. Take one short, Spanish-speaking, shy immigrant girl and toss her into a school full of English speaking kids with many friends who had lived there all their lives and the result you get is not pretty. My very first school experience involved a teacher telling me to write my name and handing me crayons, and thanks to the language barrier, my drawing a house. I was so proud of that house, until a fellow classmate of mine came over to me, as I sat alone.
The One Where Harry's A Tool."Ginny, hey! Listen my broomstick's been unattended for a while, so if you-"The One Where Harry's A Tool.2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Oww. Shut up, Malfoy. Maybe she's got her - you know -..."
"You honestly don't know why she hit you?"
"I can't help that the Weasleys are a bit viole-"
"Merlin Golden Boy, you're dimmer than a troll!"
"But you'll love it! There's no need to be afraid! It's long and firm and thick, so when you'll mount it -"
"Wha-! Malfoy are you following me?"
"Did you actually say those words to Granger?"
"I was just trying to help her get over her irrational fear of broomsticks and flying!"
"You're an actual idiot. A git. An outright ogre."
"Harry come on!"
"Wait I'll have to just grab my wand
APH: Concussion"Germany! Germanyyyyyy!" Ludwig sighed. At least Feliciano's voice wasn't shrill or nasally. He'd have killed the small Italian a long time ago otherwise.APH: Concussion6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"What, Italy." This was the fifth time in the last hour he'd been interrupted from his paperwork, and he was starting to get a headache. Why he didn't just kick Italy out was beyond even his own comprehension.
"I found a kitty." Oh god. "But it's stuck up in a tree, and I felt bad for it, you see! I'd climb up and get it myself, but it looks scary!" Ludwig just stared at Feliciano.
"So, since it's scary, you want me to risk life and limb by going up myself. Am I getting this right, or did I miss something?"
"No, that's about right," answered Feliciano cheerfully. Ludwig opened his mouth to decline, but Feliciano's hopeful, cheery smile killed the answer in his throat.
"...fine. But only
Every drop of blood.Every drop of blood.9 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
A stream of crimson shimmers in the bath, fresh, and moving slowly on the slant to the drain. another drop adds to the mass, Making the liquid shine in the light through the ripples.
In the background a Girl cries, she would not be any older than 16 and her sobs speak to us all, she cries for love, and for her world, that has been taken from her.
This girl sits in a bath, hunched over her art; she carves in deeper to retrieve more paint. The beauty of it almost makes her forget why she is here in the first place, but not even that could make her forget.
As another drop of blood drips her cries soften and the last tear falls from her face. She places her wrist in the bright light from the ceiling to gaze at her art. In that moment, she feels nothing. Nothing at all but the slow drain of her life through her artwork as she sinks down in the bath, her own coffin, her head resting on the rim, eyes closed.
Although her wrist was art to her, the picture of a girl, lying down in a bath, with
I Am....I am the loud but hidden girl.I Am....2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I wonder about the sheltered thoughts of others.
I hear the butterfly's wings flapping in crushes stomachs.
I see lies flicker behind smiling eyes.
I want to comfort the people in pain.
I am the loud but hidden girl.
I pretend to be the one altering lives.
I feel the pain others sense.
I touch the inner tears we hide.
I worry that individuals are in agony.
I cry for those who hide in a crowd.
I am the loud but hidden girl.
I understand not everyone can be blissful.
I say it is something the whole world should fight for.
I dream of a life full of smiles.
I admire those who strive to help these people.
I try to hold back the hurt from others.
I hope to change the views of another.
I am the loud but hidden girl.