Home
[IoS] [Blessed Parent] Serene Library by Japani69Katti, literature
Literature
[IoS] [Blessed Parent] Serene Library
Sumu Crex stood at the entrance of the library, the warm afternoon light spilling in through the windows and casting a gentle glow on the well-worn wooden shelves. The small, quaint building was nestled in the heart of the centaur village, surrounded by the quiet hum of activity as residents went about their daily routines. The scent of aged parchment and leather-bound tomes filled the air, creating a comforting ambiance that seemed to whisper tales of adventure and wisdom to all who entered.
The library was Crex's sanctuary, a place where they could lose themself in the pages of a book and forget the world outside. As they stepped inside, the coolness of the room washed over them, a stark contrast to the warmth of the sun outside. The familiar scent of the library brought a sense of comfort and belonging, like returning to a mother's embrace after a long journey.
In the quiet corners of the library, a red centaur was already seated, his red and white wings around his head fluttering
Explore Peacock Tutorial
kleowolfy on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/kleowolfy/art/Peacock-headshot-1096479044kleowolfy
TIMELESS by Xanphre, literature
Literature
TIMELESS
I don't understand, Universe
The things you do
Is it always me?
Or do you have something to do with it too?
I try to understand
That love isn't transactional
It just is.
So forgive me my ignorance
Does there always have to be
So much goddamned pain?
And does every day essentially have to be the same
With so much needless suffering
With so much confusion
So much doubt?
If love isn't transactional
Why do I always feel that I have to shout
Get so angry, so enraged?
Like a man that is unable
to do anything
Like a prisoner, trapped in a cage
The centerpiece in this carnival
With nothing left to say
Feel
Pray, or think
I have a suspicion
That I will never truly know you
And it's times like this
When I don't think I ever want to
My understanding of love seems to be
So diverse from yours
When I don't see any rhyme or reason
I'm reminded of the cold bars surrounding
My prison
And yet
I believe that I committed no crime
But to live
Sometimes never knowing, never even understanding
Why I