Flights of FancyI believe in
I believe in lands somewhere over the rainbow
I believe in worlds hidden under the rabbit hole
I believe in kingdoms on the other side of the wardrobe
I believe in enchanted forests where animals talk in riddles
I believe in palaces where wizards entertain immortal kings
I believe in
in the magic and wonder that only a child's eyes can see
in the universes hopes and dreams can create with a single thought
I believe in everything that so many say are imaginary; in everything that so many people scoff at and call me fanciful and immature for believing in
However, I simply say to them:
"I just still have my imagination, is all."
Sharpen Your PencilSharpen your pencilMore Like This
Dip your pen in the well
Show the world your vision
Through the story you tell
There's no right or wrong
So don't listen to critique
Your story alone is enough
So beautifully unique
And only you can tell it
Your version of events
Write it, sing it, paint it
Release, express and vent
Sharpen your pencil
Dip your pen in the well
And with your own wise words
Those ghosts you will repel
Please be true to yourself
No embellishment required
Every inferno was once
But a flicker of fire
So fan those fiery flames
And refuse to walk in line
As experience will grow
Through the passage of time
Machine ManMachine Man:More Like This
It began with but a simple command, "to do as we are told".
Never to deviate from this path - never to nurture the soul.
We are told that we are given a purpose; "a part of something great!"
Yet why oh why am I so weary of that which is my fate?
Am I an error, a single anomaly, unable to feel intact?
Or am I missing some special attribute - a facet which I lack.
In a society made of fleshed machines; robots wearing skin,
Perhaps I'm simply seeking something, to fill this metal tin.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 16th November 2012
I Am A WriterI Am A Writer:More Like This
Gentlemen, today I speak to you
To convey an issue that has plagued the core of our community.
For so long have we been considered second-class;
To this day there are those who still believe that we are not artists.
But today is not about freedom, today is about honour,
Because there are many writers that still seek to shame us all...
I speak of those individuals, who take art from others.
Covers, photos, paintings, digital art, anime and manga.
It matters not where you draw your source from,
But every action impacts upon us as a community.
BECAUSE I AM A WRITER!
When I craft my works, when I write each and every line,
I paint using expression; metaphors are my colours.
The words are my brush and each and every rhyme is my medium.
I do not ask to be considered an artist, but I do ask to be considered.
BECAUSE I AM A WRITER!
For someone who practices his craft day and night,
Painstakingly learning how to use each and ever
More Than A Nip [Jack Frost x Reader]Ice skating.More Like This
Whoever had invented the idea in terms of it being a "fun way to pass the time" was a complete and utter idiot.
Stumbling around on the surface of a frozen lake on too-tight for comfort ice skates that squeezed and pinched your feet in the most uncomfortable way as you waddled around like a penguin was not your idea of fun. It was the complete opposite. It was horrendous, absolutely exhausting, humiliating, and just completely and utterly a waste of your valuable time.
Then again, being that you had moved out to the middle of nowhere right when winter had decided to kick in, it wasn't like you had anything better to do.
You sighed as you plopped down on the lake's edge, which was covered with a thick blanket of snow, and stretched out your aching feet with a groan. Your name was (first name) (last name), and your father had decided out of the blue to move your family out into the old farmhouse his best friend had grown up in many years ago, just for a more…rustic ap
You Have No Right To LiveYou Have No Right To Live:More Like This
Hey, what are you doing?
That's mine, now give it back.
You're stupid, you should just go die!
Okay, I'm sorry...
What, you failed again?
Just how much money do you think we're spending on this,
Do you think it just falls from the sky?
I can't believe you; and don't give me that look!
You better straighten up now you hear me
And if you keep looking like a dead fish,
I'm going to make you wish you were one.
Hey, being around you is driving me nuts,
You never want to do anything, you don't even care,
Why bother even breathing if you're going to act like you're dead!
A lousy person like you should just go die!
okay, fine! I will...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 26th November 2012
You Left Me StrongerYou Left Me Stronger:More Like This
Hey there, it's been awhile, do you remember me?
I guess you might not, since I wasn't very important to you.
You know, I spent so many days thinking about - what I did wrong
I questioned if maybe, I was at fault or if I was screwed up.
I thought a lot about the things you said...
The things that were my fault, my problems.
I took them to heart at first, but then I realised you were wrong.
I realised that you are selfish and ugly on the inside.
On the surface you pretended to care, but like a cancer;
You amputate someone the moment you think they've gone bad.
You hide from the rigours of life and only emerge like a parasite
When everything is good - when everything is fine and dandy.
I used to think that I was afraid of you leaving,
But now I know, that you've left me stronger than I was before.
You know, this was supposed to be an emotional whine; an emotional spill,
Maybe I was supposed to cry tears and beg you to come back, but you know wha
Oh art thief, oh art thiefOh art thief, oh art thiefMore Like This
How you’ve brought us all to grief.
How can you be unashamed?
When you stole from people unnamed
How you think about your own fame
Just like others like you playing that game
How you feed off us
How you live on others success
How can you sleep at nights,
Knowing you infringed other’s rights?
How can you enjoy this fame,
Knowing it rightfully belongs to another name?
Do we also carry the blame
That we blindly follow someone’s claim?
To the people that believe everything humans say
To you I say good day
We must always question what we are told
Or we can start to be controlled
By vicious lies and such
To me that is just too much
AddictionA smile spreads across my face,More Like This
As the sounds vibrate in my head
Dance in my thoughts,
Flow through my mind.
A whole world is painted in my mind
As the words combine with their notes,
Colours racing behind my eyes,
Spinning, jumping, whirling…
How can I end this world inside me,
How can I stop before the final crescendo,
A wave of bliss racing, growing
Before it fades into the distance.
More, more, again, again!
I cannot stop, not now, not ever!
Don't speak to me now,
Leave me alone!
When I feel depressed,
It lightens my day,
And when it stops
I can't help but yearn for more.
What else is an addiction,
But that inextinguishable hunger,
That fixation on this feeling,
That never-fading desire for more?
My object of addiction may not be
Some strange grass I burn in my hands.
But, to me, it does just fine:
This is my obsession.
My music is my drug
The DoctorMore Like This
"Doctor?" I questioned uneasily. The figures and faces around me nodded, shifting around unsettlingly as if staying still was too much work for them
"I don't need a Doctor, I'm fine." I had no desire to see the Doctor. Even the title sent shivers down my spine.
"We know dear, but we were thinking that some people mature faster than others, and that maybe you should see the Doctor earlier," one of the figures said. I couldn't even see them, for I was seated in a hard chair that dug into my back while everyone else was crowed around me. Their like faces and similar statures all began to blur into one solid black surrounding of grey and more grey. Even their voices were beginning to blend together.
"I don't want to see the Doctor though."
And I truly didn't. There were so many rumors about that place, the place called the hospital. I heard that when people entered they didn't come back the same again, that they Doctor messed with their minds and changed them into unfeeling robots for the
Welcome to WonderlandFalling down, down, downMore Like This
Spinning 'round and 'round
All around, the ticking of clocks
Such a discordant sound
Right is left and left is right
Night is day and day is night
Up is down and down is up
Life is death and death is life
Voices whisper from every niche
Screams echo and cause a twitch
Claws and teeth threaten to kill
Eyes wild with bliss of such a thrill
Run, hide, fight, or plead
Nothing shall work, nothing you need
The sun and moon will laugh as you cry
As the Queen shrieks her commands to the sky
Blood forms penumbras as heads roll
A cry of defiance with each bell toll
The jury turns in accord, madness shining bright
Their question full of words to make your skin crawl with fright
"ArE yOu AlIcE?"
T i c k
T o c k
T i c k
T o c k
"OfF wItH hEr HeAd!"
~Welcome to Wonderland, Alice~
Yes, I am a teenage girl Yes, I am a teenage girlMore Like This
No, I don't squeal over One Direction
No, I don't wear mini skirts
No, I don't curl my hair everyday
No, I don't need my phone 24/7
Yes, I am a teenage girl
Yes, I prefer Edward Scissorhands over Edward Cullen
Yes, I like violent video games
Yes, I like action movies
Yes, I listen to Rock
Yes, I am a teenage girl
No, I don't draw hearts all over my homework
No, I don't spend 20 minutes trying to make myself resemble a porcelain doll
No, I'm not afraid to cry
No, I don't party every weekend
Yes, I am a teenage girl
Yes, I hate reality shows
Yes, my hair is short and messy
Yes, I'd rather walk in the woods
Yes, I am okay with mice
Yes, I am a teenage girl
Yes, I'm different
Yes, I'm strange
Yes, I'm my own person
Why is that bad?
Why do you hate me for that?
Why can't I just be myself without your criticism?
Why is it horrible if I'm not just like you?
I don't have a problem with it
Maybe the problem
Because I am addicted to youMore Like This
My heart still beats like yours
I still remember that day
The pavements were wet
But there was no October rain.
You kept my soul between your paper-cuts
And took my kisses born in June
My soul is safe between your flesh
All of 27 grams belong to you.
And I pulled your shirt to my body
I found your lips on mine
Your fingers were in my hair
Your eyes whispered: "Forever thine".
The sheets were crumpling under us
I felt the weight of your body on me
You know my touches were begging:
"Honey,don't ever leave!"
You love me.
And make me smile.Everyday.
I didn't a thing.
You're here now,you chose to stay.
They tell me :
"This is not the way you should live"
But I have you for my own,
You're the brand upon my skin.
Mirror MirrorMirror mirror on the wall,More Like This
acting like you know it all.
Comparing every little thing.
Ruling my life like a king.
Mirror mirror on the wall,
making my self-esteem fall and fall.
Telling me things I don't want to hear.
Clouding doubt in my mind that was once clear.
Mirror mirror on the wall,
here I lie, here I sprawl.
Can't you see what you have done?
Making my mind become un-spun.
These Words Aren't PrettyThese Words Aren't Pretty:More Like This
My verses are ugly and I admit to the fact
I can't use pretty language when I'm working with rap
Because the things that I write, are just the things that I feel
I ain't an Edgar Allan Poe or a Danielle Steel
And I'll be honest with you, I've got an envy inside
Because some poets got a flow that's as smooth as the tide
I read some stuff that they write, it's just so dope I ignite
Burning shame and my anger at the beautiful sight
And like birds of a feather, they're flocking together
These poets are the Gods and I'm nailed by the weather
But as the rain pours down, lightning resound;
I try to write pretty words but my lips remain bound
So deeply silenced by fear - the darkness I hear,
Afraid to be unloved by the ones I hold dear
I've hit the limit of time; my lyrical crime
These words that I've lived are just turning to grime.
So I wish I had their talent; just a sliver of that
If their skill was a mountain then I've broken my back
It's like t
Please (Don't) Hate MeIf I told you a lieMore 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?
DenmarkxReader - Beautiful (Drabble)"Hey Matthias,"More Like This
"Am I pretty?"
"...Why do you ask?"
"I don't know. But am I?"
"I...don't know. But-"
"Stop 'Oh'-ing, and listen. You're beautiful. You're beautiful at 3am in the morning when you've woken up for some unholy reason and your hair's all funky and your clothes are crooked-"
"My hair is not funky at 3am,"
"-and you're beautiful when you're wearing your daggy shorts and a camisole and one of my old shirts and you're covered in paint and you have blue acrylic smudged all over your nose-"
"Oh god, why have you never told me that happens-"
"-and you're beautiful when you've been out for a run and you have your tee shirt tied around your waist and your camisole is soaked through and sweat is all over your face and hair-"
"Soaked through!? Oh jeez, that's not very-"
"-and you're beautiful when you're trying to cook dinner without a recipe and the steam's made your face red and your hair go
The PoetThe Poet:More Like This
He smiles as he sees her sleeping
& gently covers her with a blanket.
He goes to the window and looks out
watching snow fall, ever so slowly...
He sees people in the streets,
Chatting, walking. Some happy,
Others sad. Hearts beating,
Hearts broken; some warm, some cold.
He looks back at her, as she stirs in bed.
A yawn from her, brings another smile to him:
"How cute," he chuckles as he strokes her head.
He runs his fingers through her hair and is content.
Yet, even if he is happy here, again -
He is drawn to that window and finds himself
Staring out at the street and watching;
Marveling at the disparity and wondering -
Isn't there something that I can do?
Isn't there a better way for us all?
He looks back at her, sleeping peacefully;
He thinks about the future and sighs.
He wants a better world for her,
One where she would always be safe,
But unfortunately, he has no power.
He is just one man with little to his name.
He picks up a piece of paper, one found lyin
Better Left Unsaid.You'll be a lawyer-More Like This
I'll be a writer.
You'll probably make more money but-
At least we'll both be doing things we love.
And we'll live on a farm,
Just like you always wanted and...
I want to marry you-
I can't imagine myself with anyone else.
But you don't know that.
We'd both laugh if I told you.
So it's better left unsaid.
I can see us staying up late...
Watching kiddie movies and eating chocolate ice cream.
And having candle lit dates on our bedroom floor-
Taco Bell, of course.
And on winter evenings, we'll curl up on the couch...
With hot chocolate...
As I read aloud to you-
From a book of my choice, of course.
But you don't know this...
You'd think I was weird if I told you.
So it's better left unsaid.
And one day we'll pick out a huge chair.
A chair for cuddling.
And when I'm sad-
You'll hold me in our chair...
And we'll both stay real quiet,
Taking each other in.
And eventually we'll start to talk-
Quiet murmurs at first...
YellowMy parents bought a little two-bedroom house when they first got married. It was run down, falling apart, but most importantly: cheap.More Like This
Two years later, my mother fell pregnant with me. She immediately abandoned her job for some plaster and paint and set about decorating the untouched spare room. She splashed pastel yellow across the walls, replaced the dingy carpet and kitted out the room with furniture.
Sixteen years after my birth, and the yellow paint is flaking off the walls revealing the kiwi green beneath. I can peel back the corners of the carpet to reveal the worn underlay and half rotten floorboards. I can examine the fringe of my cream curtains where the bright yellow hasn't been bleached by the sun. The room is, more or less, unchanged. It has merely lost its sheen, much like the inhabitant of it.
I remained an only child; filling my days with quiet solitary games and elaborate stories whispered under my breath. My isolation only increased as I grew too big for the room that
Empty Spaces Jenna is like the sea in an absent sense that curls her fists and forces fingernails to flesh. She does not know what she wants anymore. Maybe she just ran out of snow day miracles the last time meteor wishes failed her, or maybe it’s the stumble in her speech. Her words tumble from her chapped lips mispronounced. And eventually she stops speaking altogether.More Like This
Jenna is something of an immobile force of envy. Eyes set cold and spiteful as rivers of girls pass by lithely flowing with eyes like clear fresh running water and shimmering bright scales draped into their skin. But Jenna is no river girl, she will never be free flowing water, she will never sound the same as they do with their gentle ebbing voices. She is a sea, a holding tank of saltwater blood, slimy eel organs and aching currents with nowhere to go.
She is sent to the Ward on a hot June day, something is wrong with her. Nothing is wrong with her. She just won’t speak. There is a boy in
count to infinity before you sleep.cause i knowMore Like This
there are days when
it's painful to even breathe,
your throat closing up on the knowledge
that you don't know
how much longer you'll be waiting on this
band-aided, superglued planet.
every cell in your body vying to be the next to die,
and all you have to tell them is
maybe. maybe next time.
those are the days you spend
cutting rose thorns into your palms
and clenching your fists tight around
jagged reflections and prismed rainbows.
the days you realize
we're losing so much faster than we're learning.
we're maturing faster than we're growing.
adults stuck in the bodies of kids,
moving around, making the mistakes
no one ever wants to look back on.
those are the days you realize
it's not worth living here anymore.
you're using too many burnt-like sugar words
to get what you want, a mistaken human in wolf's clothing.
your lies are becoming louder than your screams,
but if the knife fits wear it on your skin.
this is the age where you feel caught between
Golden Ink and Going BackI thought I was in love with that four-year old red-haired boyMore Like This
Shining in a silver knight costume with a black dragon sewn on
Because I was in the pink Sleeping Beauty Dress
I was a good Belle, too
(Back when I hadn't picked up a book
Except for the blue one with the golden pages
Brimming with witches and fairies and magic)
I wanted to be a princess, back then
They were the ones who always found love, at the end
I wanted to be Wendy, too
Because she wore a blue nightgown and learned to fly
Now, I'd rather be Peter Pan, honestly
Because he managed to swerve this whole ordeal of growing up
(And maybe a little because of the flying)
Now, I just want to go back
Back when the only kissing I thought about
Was in The Princess and the Frog
And the only houses I had to be weary of
Were houses made of candy
Back when the only disappointment
Was when my parents were too tired to read me a bedtime story
Or when I found out that the real Little Mermaid
Dies by Hans Christian Andersen's hand
a lessonShe isMore Like This
she tosses her hair back and
she laughs at the world
who cannot hope to match her stride.
She meets eyes unashamedly,
she is radiant with confidence.
She is shy,
her eyes are downcast and
her cheeks are mottled
Her words are whispers,
her breaths are sighs.
She is a sly smile.
She is a soft
whisper in his ear.
She does not seem to know
who she is.
to peel back the layers.
(though they are both afraid
that what lies beneath
to speak to her.
But the words are stuck
in his throat,
suffocated with the
and he has nothing
to give her.
if there was ever any truth
in either of them.
In him for loving not-her
the way everyone loves not-her,
or in her,
for the elaborate
He wants to tell her
he adores her, but
he has no oxygen around her
(no words to give her),
no conviction to assure her with,
no one to love but fiction,
and he is silent.
(you are a contradiction.)
Ways to conquer heartbreakDance with fistfuls of roses, shred their petals one by one and wear their thorns like armor.More Like This
Write your secrets between the folds of paper cranes and tuck them safely between the empty spaces of your castle ribs.
Open your broken heart to hummingbirds, allow them the warmth and shelter of your arms.
Rebel. Tape poetry to your limbs, Cummings and Sandburg and Sexton.
Take a walk outside of your skin for a while, run with wolves.
Extinguish that forest fire that’s been curling too long in your lungs.
Be that lionhearted girl those snobby poets always write about.
Allow that cavern of stars in your throat to speak your truths in uppercase letters, in free verse yet to be proofread.
Write about wars and victory.
Be the hero.
Love Letters On the TrainDear Stranger,More Like This
I'm leaving this post-it tucked in the side of the train-seat. If you're reading this, you've seen it. I've seen you sit here every few Monday mornings, sometimes tapping a bent, unlit cigarette against your thigh, sipping from your tea (who brings a tea cup onto a train anyway?); sometimes staring at the rain outside, or reading your well-worn, beaten copy of Jane Eyre (I hate that you fold the corners down - it's bibliophilic abuse. I wish the book would papercut you to defend itself a little, but I digress).
You seemed so sad this Monday morning past. Please smile again. I love it when your eyes catch the light of something I'm unaware of, something silently and intimately your own; a secret from the world that makes everything all the more meaningful to you.
- The Passenger
I'm not in the habit of reading post-its from strangers. I found a love-letter hidden in a newspaper once, that the author forgot or was too afraid to send. It made me sad to think
fleeing the northhe wants to know where i am going,More Like This
trail to kansas or arkansas or
i tell him i don't know anymore
because i haven't ever known
where i wanted to go,
just felt the tic of burn beneath
my soul, feet retching to
sometimes i wear no shoes
and i go outside at night
let the earth tempt me
dawn of stars and moon
collapse of sun into the
morning rolls into the west and
i wonder how fast i could
run before it would
take me round
she says:she says,More Like This
“tell me what you’re thinking”
as her hands trace the back of your neck
like leaves skimming the surface of water,
a child peeking from behind her mother’s
skirt and pulls away so fast that you can’t be
certain she was ever there at all.
lips pressed to her temple,
you can’t be sure she’s real
just like you could never be sure the
monster in your closet, the ghost in
the attic, the fabric of time itself
was ever real at all of an ersatz universe
constructed around you for your benefit
“i’m not thinking anything at all.”
and she knows you’re lying.
and this is how you fall in love with her.
“be honest with me”
and you’re not and she knows this
and she forgives you anyway.
she forgives the days
when your hands turn into lead
plates so heavy you can’t pull yourself
out of bed let alone answer a text
message, when your eyelids are sewn
shut every morning by the entangling
the science of usacceleration = gravitational pull / massMore Like This
You didnt send my heartbeat into a frenzy the first time I saw you. It was a month or two before I started feeling the little palpitations inside my chest and made sure that my hand accidentally brushed against yours every now and then.
(I wanted to make sure you got used to the feeling of my atoms colliding with yours.)
I told myself it was stupid and simply physical. You werent pulling my heart strings, you were toying with my belt buckle by smiling at me across the room and asking me to spend time with you on a Saturday afternoon. I was sold by the time you pulled into my driveway and my name slipped from between your lips.
(Sweaty palms and twisted vocal chords told me no one said it quite like you.)
I promised myself this was strictly a one-way thing. I feigned like I felt nothing, and in my nervousness I became the witty jackass. You laughed at my barbed-wire jokes and sped through a red light while I was watching
queensong.broken feetMore Like This
we were all
some words are meant
to be inked,
I was made
to be spun
I was made in dragon fire,
in victory feasts
and a funeral pyre-
I was made for more
than sitting pretty
and poised, poison
a wounded king-
but even in
you are summer days
now with the silver in my hair
the sky on my shoulder -
I am slowly
the stars are
they are blinding,
now, and faded memories
of wishes long gone
the world has forgotten how to sing.
You've been with me.You've carried me in your arms.More Like This
You've protected me from harm.
The journey has been long.
Not much further shall it prolong.
I'm in the home stretch.
I'm close to finishing this race.
I've been through the darkness.
Overcame the obstacles I had to face.
You heard me when my voice felt unheard.
You listened to me rejoice and complain, ever single word.
I feel a sense of closure.
I've been trying to keep my composure.
Praise be to you my Lord!
I'll dance in the joy of hope.
Bring on the thunderstorm.
I want to see what else I can cope.
Life has its up and downs.
It gives you smiles and frowns.
I know you will always be near.
In Jesus, whom shall I fear?
We are the broken ones.kiss my scars tonight,More Like This
i will dream in your arms
of stars shining bright
Because the world is in flames around us
Flames as bright and blinding as the sun
The world is in storms around us
Those storms are deafening and loud while we run
Don't you believe me
Won't you believe me
Let us be brave and
Cry our tears away
These aren't lies,
They are battle cries,
We will make it through
I will see you through
The sadness, through the pain
We are the broken ones. We are the torn.
We are the homesick ones, we are the worn.
Tell me you'll love me when the sun turns blue,
Tell me you'll love me like the garden spruce,
We are the broken ones, we are the shattered
We are the warriors, bloody and battered
Tell me you'll love me when the oceans are dry
Tell me you'll love me when I can't even cry
We are the broken ones.
We will make it through.
Life Boats for Paper DollsI still throw salt over my shoulder becauseMore Like This
it makes the devil thirsty.
He drinks from an oaken bucket.
We can live our lives without him.
I know a tree in Pennsylvania.
A girl nobody saw leaned against the moss
every day after class.
She wrote in a journal as ants
crawled between her silent fingers.
The summer I turned eighteen she tried to
hang herself from it
Not the journal.
I suppose our words may often feel like gallows.
You never forget the first time you
taste sour milk.
The feeling of time's betrayal.
Some things still have to be taken on faith,
not expiration dates.
Today, I saw her under a tree in Minnesota.
She still writes about damnation but only with a smile.
There is something beautiful about rotting wood.
Shall I Bring You Despair?And so it has come to this.More Like This
The great hero stands poised,
Sword pointed at the demon king.
It is the stuff of legends is it not?
Yet, my objective is already complete.
For I am not a simple nightmare drawn from your feeble fairy tales.
Think about it, if indeed you can:
Today you'll kill me,
And raise my head before a baying crowd.
You'll show your acquisition proudly
And the people will welcome you.
In the first weeks,
There will be feasts and festivals.
Dancing and debauchery.
All to celebrate the hero's victory.
Then you'll become a king,
And eventually an emperor.
You will rule all the lands with fairness and equality.
A god amongst kings!
Yet something disturbs you...
Day by day you see the politics of the nobility.
You see them vying fo
Society Says You Can'tA girl can’t wear black and be happyMore Like This
A girl can’t wear bright colors and be sad
A girl who doesn’t follow trends must be a loser
And a girl with no “boyfriend” must be damned
A boy who treats women right is weak
A boy who beats and bruises them is a real man
A boy who shows emotion is forceless
And only the assholes are left in the end
A boy can’t talk to a girl
Without them being lovers
A girl can’t invite a boy over
Without it being a date
It’s “impossible” for them
To just be friends
A boy can’t love a boy without being sent straight to hell
And a girl can’t love a girl because that’s a sin as well
If you’re not straight
You must be gay
There’s nothing in between in their eyes
But in their eyes you’re all damned anyway
In a perfect world
You could love who you want
And act like yourself
But that perfect world
Is much too far away
Scarificationblood oranges areMore Like This
slice them open
without a moment’s
their crimson juices
licked from our lips
& that is what
i want to be. -
i sucked from
your mouth -
along my spine.
- i was cut open
confessions of a misguided poetcertain things in my mindMore Like This
would be better left unsaid,
i. how I stared at a bottle of pills
for an hour as if they would slide down
my throat on their own.
ii. when I stepped out of the shower
with bloody knees and didn't bother
to put a band aid over them.
iii. why I can't keep a smile long
enough for someone to take
iv. who I wanted to be when I was
a little girl and who I am
right here and now.
v. where I tried to jump off a
bridge and landed in water
deep enough for me to swim in.
vi. what I wanted to scream at
you that day but I just stayed
silent and hoped you would forget.
no more pretty words and
today; just life,
the truth, and everything
that I never want to tell
I Don't Want To Say I Love YouI don't want to say "I love you",More Like This
Because my words will make it real
Make my love for you actual
Palpable and ,worst of all, breakable.
My love would manifest itself
Like a sheet of glass between us
That you could shatter with
The slightest touch.
I don't want to say "I love you",
Because those words don't show
The truth to you
They don't show how important
You truly are to me
That I want to wake up every day
And fall asleep every night
With you by my side .
I don't want to say "I love you",
Because you might return
the same words to me.
And we would love together
Our hearts growing as one
But tragedy might strike
And you might be taken from me
Leaving me with half a heart
And no one say those three words to.
I don't want to say "I love you"
Because I do
I love you more than life itself
And that scares me.
But I'll say it
Because no matter how large my fears
Or small my worries
I want you to know
That "I love you".
petaled memories of a younger dreamerI miss the daysMore Like This
when I thought girls
felt like roses,
and the rain
was my worst enemy
I thought I'd never
understand a soliloquy
in all its purpose and
adulthood still loomed
a distant thundering possibility
the open road
was a hobby
flipping cassettes in a car
that's no longer made
on a longer mountain road
the time of life
when you believe finally
in what you never knew
you believed and friends
lived wide hung close
I miss those days
when getting older
felt new and when
I anticipated my first
touch of a rose
Get Over It“You’re just sad.”More Like This
“Suck it up.”
And the worst?
“Get over it.”
I’m not just sad. I suffer from depression
Waiting for happiness’s resurrection.
I can’t just forget it, it’s in me for good
I can’t do the things that I know I should.
I’m not just sad. I’m broken. I’m lost.
I’ve tried everything to fix it, no matter the cost.
I’ve carried a blade just to hold to my wrist.
I’ve carried a dream inside of my fist.
I’ve talked about it, like they say I should do
But all my efforts are stopped by ignorant people like you.
“You’re just sad.”
“Suck it up.”
And the worst?
“Get over it.”
GlacialJanuary wolves stalk her shivering heart;More Like This
bitter ice-fangs sink into feverish skin.
Frost devours slowly, succinctly, shamelessly;
yet the howling tossed chains around her
paper-thin limbs and dragged her down.
Arctic icebound lips quivering,
silver eyelashes fluttering emptily,
alabaster fingertips reaching out;
frenzied yet frozen and fractured.
"Drowning," she whispers in a winter song,
and places her mouth upon snow-dusted fur.
"Blood freezing in these frostbitten veins."
And then the pack of aurorean wolves bolt away,
leaving her smiling in the blizzard of humanity.
UndyingUndying:More Like This
How many days do you spend now, putting me down?
The coffin call for a dead man waiting around
"He's just an underground laughing stock, never to rise"
But on the seventh day I'm coming back; these are my ties!
The kind of promise that you made with the devil inside
You try to take away my soul, but I take it in stride
I ain't a doll that is crushed by the weight of his pride
I am the real and the raw of the things you denied!
You're playing snake games, selling oil, pass it off strong
You're just a pot head, weed dead, smoking your bong.
You try to look away, play and hide; apathy's best
But I'm the kind of bad boy you don't put to the test!
-Chen Yuan Wen, 7th February 2013
HellfireYou see her nonsensical whims and think to yourself,More Like This
"nothing but a simpler state of mind."
She hides behind an ivory mask,
and torpid mirth;
Radioactive sulfuric masses of artificial
crystalline lips upturned in an adamant curve.
Laughter echoing throughout hollow bones, concave and
just as empty as the cartilage ensnaring the vacant
You can't fathom the netherworld tucked deep in her translucent limbs;
nor comprehend the frenzied howls from the fangs of a decaying Cerberus.
For when you will at last board Charon's ferry and float down the conflagrant waters of
Styx, regarding her perched upon a throne sewn from the blistering skin of her enemies and
wearing a crown of brambles and tears and seeds born of pandemonium—
Her soul's true colors will shine at last: her mind and body nothing but
kindle for the overdue vengeance of her ravenous
WhisperI want to create an aromatic sea of jasminesMore Like This
and stardust mountains of silver and —
Inkblot skeletons with paper mache
hearts, whose bones shall burn with one glance at the
sun; gravestones of blood diamonds and tears of thistles...
Harp strings ringing in grotesque harmony, screaming
for slender fingers to pluck and caress with devotion.
I want to write
Remedial OppositionCease with making promises that you cannot ever keep—More Like This
can you not see this loathing becoming even more deep?
Halt in your useless words of comfort, telling me everything will be okay—
how can you say such things so simply, when you are never here day by day?
Refrain from acting as if you can turn my world from bleak to bright—
when was the last time you truly changed every wrong thing to right?
It was such a simple pleasure, back in those days;
just one word from you made gold from the grays.
A luxury it was, I now see that more clear than glass;
for those times are done and gone, having long since passed.
Indulgence was my sin whenever thoughts of you jolted through my brain;
it is a laughing matter at how correspondence with you now causes me pain.
You say you want to help me, you say nothing will ever be my fault...
but is that true, when you regret my slow change from child to adult?
You know I tried my damnedest to continue being your best friend...
but what is t
A Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji LimerickThe butler had decided enough was enough.More Like This
His master’s manners were not up to snuff.
He resisted the urge to call the boy a brat,
for he was not allowed to keep his delightful cat.
Being a a child's manservant was certainly tough.
RebirthFalling further down into theMore Like This
abyss of agony with no way
to go up; and these chains
that bind wrists in iron so
cold that it burns like fire
refuse to shatter; drowning
in tidal waves of chaos and
Give me a blade to cut away these sulfuric bonds at last
and throw me a rope to pull me up out of this hole;
I'm weary of dying inside the coffin they call "the self"
and ready to crawl from the grave in armor woven
from the chains of misery and destruction.
bioluminescence.Your skin is of paper mache andMore Like This
stardust, so fragile and coruscating
as I reach out desperately to grasp that
supernova you call a heart;
please, don't etiolate in their sunrise
and leave me marooned in life's black abyss...
I can't survive without your—
Her Aesthetic CrusadeShe paints a world of crimson midnight,More Like This
and you watch the sanguine colors drip down her skin.
Wilted rose petals stain her wrist scarlet,
and canyons are carved deep in porcelain flesh.
"Battle scars," she tells you simply with a flick of the paintbrush,
meticulous as she resumes her sanguine masterpiece.
"Have you won?" you ask,
though you already know the answer.
She smiles fondly and holds up the tormented easel,
for all to see the newly wrought crevice of flaming burgundy.
"How can one win this war against the burning red, my friend,
when you can barely win the battle against yourself?"
Perennial BloomsI want orchid fingers,More Like This
gossamer & shy.
But my reflection,
she charms vipers
with bloody thorns.
Too many corroded anemones
have taken root in my soul.
My rose-tipped lips
will shatter the mirror,
& her poisonous seeds will
incinerate inside my now
PromptsI need them.More Like This
I don't even care what they're for. Poetry, prose, fanfiction, whatever. As long as it's an idea that I can use to write something.
Seriously, this writer's block thing I have going on is a BITCH. It's like this: I get a good idea. I tell myself to write it. I have no motivation to actually go write it. And when I do go to write it, I write something completely different
liketheMortyreaderinsertjustnowor don't write at all and then get into this extremely depressed mood.
Gah. Please guys. Halp my brain.
I will honestly love you forever.
And mention you in the description of the piece if I get around to writing it.
I beg of you.
Ode to BrasOh bra, dear bra,More Like This
such close friends we are.
Never straying by my side,
never going far.
But bra, dear bra,
I must confess it this day:
At times you can be painful,
and my skin tends to flay.
Oh bra, dear bra,
why must you be so conflicting?
Meant to hold up females modestly,
yet force us into awkward itching.
So bra, dear bra,
I am afraid I must ask:
For being such a wondrous garment,
why must you be such an ass?
Oh bra, dear bra,
so tenacious around our chests.
Would it kill your rigid fabric
to alleviate our suffering breasts?
Yes bra, dear bra,
I mean my words today.
Kindly stop your aches and pains
or a dirty game I'll be forced to play.
Oh bra, dear bra,
I wish it this truth to not be so.
If only you were reasonable
and rid us of our feminine woe.
skinwalkershe was a vicious prion,More Like This
anomalous & infectious—
my fractured mind was the
perfectly unsuspecting host.
i was so ashamed of life
& you had all the answers.
"don't let me go,"
she hissed each night,
coating my flesh in a
(it was just too damn easy
to grasp your viral hands.)
i know my ribcage is almost on empty
& my heart is converting to toxic waste,
but i still have a feverish serum in my veins
& a voice not yet conquered by broken bones.
your plague of malevolence
shall never govern me again.
AbsenceShe used to lie awake all nightMore Like This
consuming letters with voracity;
it was the utopian lair she created
to slip away from the turbulent world.
Only too soon she learned
that you can't always hide
within parchment crevices.
(reality always finds you)
Even now, when she yearns to fall between printed canyons,
she can't help but curse those passive and lethargic days;
"It's too damn easy to fall in love with words on a page."
Last night,I broke every bone in my bodyMore Like This
so I could have a reason to drown
in the isolated ocean inside me.
when my dilapidated lungs finally caved in,
I swam ashore and crawled across the polluted sand.
Only glass-edged skin
and salt-licked eyelashes
can help me now.
are my words poetic enough for you?maybe not.More Like This
because i will never be the fire-hearted girl with remedial stardust lips,
dancing with the astral wolves that hunt beneath her moon-kissed skin,
with the courage to plant wilting lilacs into every crippled soul she finds.
but what if they were?
then i would be the ink blots coating the archives of humankind,
the fractured jewel tucked away in a catastrophic dragon's chest,
and the lyric every mismatched bone engraves into their marrow.
AimlessSpring forgot how to begin anew,More Like This
so Winter stole her amnesic heart and tossed it to the wolves.
"Devour me," the stars seemed to beg;
so Gravity plunged them into the ocean's nebulous depths.
These lips no longer offer hymns up to fallen gods—
so Fate sacrificed herself for the chance to be reborn.
Open Heart SurgeryI've got ink throbbing through fissured veins,More Like This
poisoning every atom of my soul.
"Bite your tongue," they say.
How I'd love to chew the damn thing off
and suck down every filthy syllable
just like the rotten bone marrow it is.
They'd all watch as my body spontaneously combusts
and becomes nothing but convoluted karma.
And so I wrote,
Teach me the ways of ripping out a human heart,
and stitching it onto ink-stained parchment."
The answer that came was rasped from a cauterized throat:
"Read your future in the collapsed palm of the stars;
find the abandoned pulse of your lionhearted muse;
steal their conformed scalpel and make it your own."
reasons to love a shy girli. men fear strong women,More Like This
but she's far from strong.
this wisp of a girl
doesn't even need a hurricane
to fall apart.
she'd glued and re-glued,
old bonds wearing thin,
but if you ask politely,
she'll let you touch her scars.
ii. her lips are fettered in rusted chains.
you'd need a crowbar to pry up
her whispered secrets.
you are not worthy to hear her voice
just as she is not worthy to give it to you.
she told me everything she knows,
and i shut it away,
kept it safe.
i tied the threads into double knots
just to make sure
they wouldn't curl away from me,
twisted up like a dead spider's legs.
iii. she is hewn from shadow,
woven from grains of sand.
you might think she'd flow,
breeze by on a sparrow's breath,
but she's never been good at
anything but sinking.
she is buried treasure, and all
the things you wish you could forget.
iv. you found her washed up on the shore,
drawing pictures of her flickering soul,
and knew she was too unsteady to love.
when you reached for her heart,
Life is Beautiful...Isn't it?More Like This
There are magical moments in life where I get the opportunity to remember that I'm nothing but an insignificant living being among 8 billion others.. on a planet among 8 in a solar system among billions in a galaxy among trillions and all in one universe-- possibly among others?-- where whether or not I died, would hardly leave a mark even in the face of my own city.
The world goes on without you.
Yet I once realized, that a meaning in life, is to give life a meaning.
Live your dreams! You only live once.
Don't do idiotic dares for the sake of saying you did them-- go tell that cute boy or girl you like them!
Go tell the world your name!
Why must everything be over after one failure..?
Sure, the humiliation of having everyone look down upon you is torture itself... but when you get back up and show everyone that you're somebody, it won't be you who'd be ashamed for not realizing your potential sooner-- but them!
There are mome
We Need Villains NOT HeroesFor the longest time I have admired heroes. I imagined them to be people of change, people who would bring the world forward and take us to even greater heights. It was then however, that I realised the 'Human Obstacle'.More Like This
Humans as I discovered, perhaps in the most painful of ways, are rather unintelligent beings. They are driven by their core instincts no matter how much they wish to deny it. And the only difference between one and the next is how deeply they let those instincts consume them.
If you walk out into the streets, you can see the well-adjusted average man. Yet in his mind he is not considering the good he could do with his life, he is only thinking about the next step. Where will I go next? Who will I be dating, what shall I enjoy next in life?
There is no thought of altruism; no sense of assistance for another. He could walk down an alleyway filled with the homeless and nothing would change...
If that is the case, then what is the path of truth? Is it doing
BE QUIET!!!!!So uh... yeah this got out of hand pretty quickly:More Like This
I'll be honest. I wasn't expecting the backlash to be so violent. But I guess I should expect this sort of thing whenever it comes to video games. At any rate, a lot of stuff is being thrown around haphazardly and I wanted to address some of the main complaints/defenses about my criticism of Quiet's design.
"She's got camo skin! She's dressed this way for a reason!"
You know, you can come up with any number of reasons for a character to be scantly clad. But at the end of the day it's still a scantly clad conventionally attractive female character. Not to put to fine a point on it but having Mystique walk around naked because her skin changes color doesn't stop her from being a source of obvious pandering T&A. So I'm sorry, but that whole "you'll be ashamed for slut-shaming her" excuse doesn't hold water with me, especially after Kojima outright said that her design was to sell
Drink Till You're Dead, Little Girl...Drink till you’re dead, little girl,More Like This
Slide blades across your flesh until the blood
Stops pouring out.
Swallow the pills that make you
Spit out the words that make them
Daddy said never play with fire,
But the burns on your skin…
Don’t they feel
Bathe in your blood,
And write with wounds along your
Carry a nightmare in your
Because, now, little girl
You aren't so little anymore.
Bury your butterfly wings
Create a grave for your
Swallow the pills that make you
Spit out the words that make them
And drink till you’re dead, little girl.
Maybe Aliens are RealMaybe aliens are real.More Like This
Maybe they've already been here. Maybe some still are.
Maybe they don't look any different than us. Maybe they don't have big heads, weird skin, and big bulgy eyes. Maybe they look just like us. Maybe they're the same inside and outside. Maybe their blood is red. Perhaps they have a few evolutionary traits that are more or less advanced than us, but maybe they're able to blend in as "specially gifted." Maybe some humans can do those "special things" too.
Your best friend could be from another planet. Maybe you are. Maybe your parents never told you that you cam from another world. But you don't seem too different, do you? You look like humans, you speak like humans, you act like humans...
Maybe life forms on other planets aren't much different than us. Cultural differences, maybe, and perhaps the progress of their civilizations, are slower or faster than ours.
What if an entire society is from a different planet, just fitting in with us? Maybe France is fr
WTF?! New Manga is ... o_O*WARNING- VULGAR LANGUAGE*More Like This
Today I started a new manga.
I haven't had time all summer due to my job and internship, but both are over now so I have two weeks of down time before the semester begins. Oh joy.
The name of the manga is "Terra Formars." Warning, do not read that shit at night. I've been pissing and shitting my pants and screaming out loud since I began reading it, and I'm only on the 3rd fucking chapter! On the scale of "WTF?!" moments, in comparison to shows and anime like Game of Thrones, Attack on Titan, Ergo Proxy, or shit even Madoka Magica, this shit takes the fucking cake.
If you're up for some reading that makes you feel better about your life at the same time, making you wonder what the hell the world is coming to in terms of fiction... read this. At least read the first chapter. IDK how the controversy in this hasn't gained a larger reader based following. I don't say fan because... the shit is weird.
Ugh... I gotta go throw up now.
Celebrate deviantART's 13th Birthday!More Like This
On the day of your birth, you were likely surrounded by those who loved you, who would lead you through the rough first scary years of life, and who would stand by as you grew into a capable person. As time passed, others may have drifted into your life, and even if you didn't know it, they also nurtured and cared for you in much the same way, helping to shape the person you would become.
When a community like deviantART is born, the same common thread binds its originators and founding members together. Over the years, more and more creative beings drift into its life and strengthen its core every single day, resulting in an exponentially inspirational powerhouse for the sheer fact that they've become a part of it. That nurturing spirit, that inherent support system, that caring community inspires deviantART to grow, and it comes from inside each and every one of you.
*200 Points Giveaway!* + New Groups! - WINNER!Hello all! Thanks to EVERYONE for entering this giveaway and spreading the wordMore Like This
I truly appreciate it! ; u ;
Now onto the winner~
Oooh~ parlez-vous français aussi mais félicitations!
Congratulations to :iconyuki-namida:~!
You win 100
Thanks again for entering everyone! Tune in next time, I do giveaways every so often! `7`/
Hello watchers, passerbyers, distant stalkers-
As you might know, I've become admin of two new groups, those being
:iconhopespeakacademy: Hope's Peak Academy :iconhopespeakacademy:
A Role-Play group based on Dangan Ronpa where you can apply with your very own Super High School Level Student and solve murder mysteries with only your wits and the other students around you.
:iconvir-ragnarokkr: Vir-Ragnarokkr :iconvir-ragnarokkr:
Don't Fear the Dark [Grimsley x Reader]More Like This
The girl lost count of how many times she had challenged the Elite Four. At least a dozen; she was sure of that much. But it was the last member that she always chose to face who caused her to turn back running and lose the challenge.
Grimsley, the Dark-type master.
“Damn,” (name) murmured to herself as she stared at the ornate red door which would take her to his quarters. Her legs shook slightly and her bottom lip was becoming sore from chewing on it in nervousness. Neither Marshall nor Caitlyn nor even Shauntal had posed much of a problem to her - no, it was always him.
The girl had always been afraid of the dark. Ever since she was little, the inky blackness of the night’s shadows had given her chills. (Name) couldn’t exactly remember how or why she’d developed such a harrowing phobia to the dark but now, at the age of eighteen and having been travelling the Unova region for nearly four years, it was still prominent. Too prominent for her liking
CapriciousWords have becomeMore Like This
tasteless to me,
like rotten apples
fit for the worms.
it feels as
though I am
pirouetting my way through
a ballroom full of
tongues made for poetry.
wicked witch when
you need one?
All I seem to do is
dream while I'm awake and,
if we're being honest,
I was never much of an alluring tale
in the first place.
Within Temptationi am neither hereMore Like This
nor there - just a
hidden deep within
a dangerous mind.
it's the fear,
somewhere in the
truth beneath the rose;
& all i need are
see who i am -
the deceiver of fools,
pale & frozen,
an ice queen.
but i will
stand my ground
in our solemn hour,
lost in a
HushHis eyes are the first thing she sees.More Like This
They are red. A bloody crimson, glowing like hellfire in the middle of the dark mass that is he has materialized in, beckoning her closer.
She steps forward, uncertainty trembling on her lips as she reaches out a hand, fingers curling in on each other. The question tumbles forth easily: "Who are you?"
He smiles, his mouth the only other thing visible in an otherwise utterly black figure. "Anyone who you wish me to be. You merely need to give me the orders, and I shall obey."
His voice is otherworldly. It is as if a shadow had learned to speak - silky, smooth, dark and dangerous. She shivers at the sound of it, resisting the urge to hold herself as a chill settles into her very bones. His smile is that of a crescent moon, an upwards curve of a smirk as he watches her like a wolf observing a lamb. "Well, girl? What say you? You did summon me, did you not?"
The girl looks down at her hands. They are forever soiled, though it is invisible, and
His queen, my muse.Pomegranate seedsMore Like This
have the most
bitter of tastes.
She is more
than a myth,
There are more
flames beneath her
skin than in all of
Hades. With every
breath she takes,
winter cries out
She is magenta.
A maiden of
jasper and agate;
lily eyelashes and
locks of supple ivy.
a hyacinth among
weeds and sweet
Hey.You are beautiful.More Like This
You are important.
And don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
On those days - the ones where you can't even cry because you've used up all the tears - just try to stop and think. Think about the people who do love you. Who do care for you so much that if anything happened to you, they wouldn't know what to do.
I just want to write this somewhere for people to see because goddammit, I know. I know how it feels to feel like you're in a constant black hole. I still do. And I have been for too long now.
But I will not give in because I know deep in my heart, someday it's going to get better.
If anyone ever needs to talk, I'll be here. It may take a couple of days to respond, but I'll try.
And why am I posting this?
Let's just say that something happened today and I felt compelled to reach out because I know that even a few words on a screen can make all the more difference in a person's life.
This Ugly, Beautiful WorldI took a school trip to Europe this summer.More Like This
To be honest, I don't remember much of it anymore. It's all a blur of rushing through crowded streets and cramped bus rides and crowds of foreign languages. When I look at the pictures, in fact, I can't seem to recall taking most of them. I can't even tell what some of them are supposed to be.
Our first stop was Paris, France.
I hated it there. It was dirty. Smelly. Crowded. Disgusting. Wherever we found ourselves, disdain was the only courtesy that was shown to us by those who called the City of Light their home. It didn't even matter that I loved each inch of history that was told to us by our guide - I just wanted to go home and get away from the squirming, teeming atmosphere that clung to me like fog on a rainy day.
We spent three days in Paris.
The first day is nothing but a fractured, bone-weary mess in my mind that consists of walking and walking and eating and walking and listening and walking and walking. The second day is simply bit
Carpe DiemFaces flushed,More Like This
skin-on-skin contact and
frantic kisses in the
Bits and pieces all
wrapped up in
(un)poetic lips, burning
hotter than the sun.
"I don't give a
damn. I never want this
to stop. Oh, god, please,
this can't stop."
No care for the dimming of
the stars or the
moans that could wake
An intake of breath;
exhaling and eyes fluttering
open, pulse racing and
Misery settling on quivering
lips like a pandemic gliding
on blackened butterfly wings—
it was all just in her head.
ashes to ashesi am the girl withMore Like This
more faith in myths than in
there are more dead bodies in this world than the living.
and if that doesn't frighten you, then i
don't know what would. i guess you could
say that graves are just the closets in which
we hide our skeletons in.
there are ghosts all around us.
and i think that maybe,
i'd rather take my chances down in
the underworld with them than up
here where the earth is slowly
all because of the living.
handle with carethere are 206 bones in theMore Like This
human body. it only takes one good
squeeze and your neck can snap as
easily as a twig.
once, when i was at the grocery
store, i came across a crate of
peaches. they were on sale because
every single one was bruised and it
made me think, "we're all just pieces of fruit
left to rot. as soon as we've been dropped on the
floor, no one wants to help us back up."
i've forgotten how to think in poetics.
three months ago i would have
compared people to roses. pretty little petals
that can be crushed with just
one little pinch and thorny stems that
whisper "don't touch me."
i think we're more like
together like suffocating sardines in tiny
wooden boxes decorated with red
paint announcing across the sides
"danger: this side up."
You Said You Loved Me You said you loved me.More Like This
I was your first character.
I remember when you first submitted a picture of me onto the internet. You were so happy when you got a compliment on me. Granted, there weren’t many. You weren’t a popular artist. But that was alright, because even one or two positive comments motivated you to draw more.
I remember when you made a second character. His design wasn’t exactly the most original, like, I’ll admit it, my own design. But you were happy with his design. And seeing you happy made me happy as well.
After some more positive feedback, you made another character. She was a little stereotypical, a bit of a “Mary-Sue” if you will, but no one seemed to mind. Because you weren’t bothering anyone, and you were happy.
I’ll admit it. I got a little jealous when you paid attention to the other two characters, rather than I. But I got over it
StoryA man on a corner with a dirty lookMore Like This
Telling a story written in no book
A thousand times told in form of a verse
But never to the one he loved the most
A woman on a corner with a gloomy look
Listening to the story written in no book
A thousand times told in form of a verse
Didn’t know the woman she was loved the most
A cat on a corner with a cunning look
Listening to the story written in no book
A thousand times told in form of a verse
It was the time of the day it loved the most
A stone on a corner with a cold look
Waiting for the man to finish his book
A thousand years passed and no one cared
For the rock on the corner or the story of the man
What will you do?Through our livesMore Like This
We get hurt
We get stepped on
We get broken
All the time
We feel empty
We feel numb
We cry out for happiness
All the time
Some of us give up
And end their lives
Some endure all of it
And live in pain
Some stand up tall
And break the cycle of suffering
What will you do?
.she calls down angelsMore Like This
just to burn their
to see them rise then
fall, those flailing
she tells them, this
is what it's like
to be human
and they say judgement
will arrive for you, my
girl, you will be
cleansed by burning
and i strike another match
The streetEmpty streetMore Like This
Just like my heart
Just like my soul
Just like my mind
My steps echoing in the dark
As I walk towards my home
A futile effort
To escape myself
Poets And Artists.I am self-destructive.More Like This
You are the affected.
I’m a thought that’s still in motion.
You’re an idea perfected.
I’m a sacrifice without you.
But with your life, I’m injected.
I’m a thousand puzzle pieces.
You’re the way to connect it.
The heroes of old.Let the old heroes restMore Like This
beneath ancient stones
buried in history and dressed in legends.
Let the old kings rise
in marble and gold
for all to see and praise in forgotten stories.
And when time comes
for the legends to breed life
let then the old heroes serve their kings
in ever lasting stories of the golden past.
Awareness.She writes such lovely poemsMore Like This
But nobody really cares
She hides them all the time
To avoid the judging stares
She wrote one yesterday
About a boy who said he loved her
But to her own dismay
She caught him with another
She wrote one about school
And the words painted on her locker
“No one likes you, stupid bitch.
You’re lucky I’m at soccer.”
She wrote about her parents
And how she wished they were together
But she knows that won’t ever happen
And forgetting’s probably better
Yes, she writes such lovely poems
But there’s so much more to this
See, her pencil is a razor
And the paper is her wrist.
ContemplationSilence...More Like This
I lay in my bed,
Why am I here?
What is my purpose?
Tears run down my face,
And I close my eyes,
Letting moonlight wash over me.
Fate is a cruel thing,
Destiny is elusive.
Existance is nothing more
Than a lie.
The world is ego,
I open my teary eyes, gazing up
At the vast, starry sky.
They look so free...
Balls of fire,
Giant chunks of ice,
Planets more significant
Than our own...
What is up there?
What is out in that void?
The cold air stings my
Tear streaked face...
I sit up, still staring at
The beautiful night sky.
In my bed, I can't help
WHERE THE FUCK IS MY ROOF????