Untitled“Can you hear me?” you whisper across the phone. “I don’t want to listen,” I say. “Your words could hurt me.”Untitled
“Can you see me?” you say, pressing your face against the glass Squishing your nose in the way that I can’t help but laugh at. “I can’t see you,” I reply. “I can’t see beauty.”
“I’m crying,” you tell me one day. I can see the tears running down your cheeks But still, I say, “You’re not crying. It’s your imagination.”
“Do you care?” you as
GrayI saw a Gray person today.Gray
He parked his car outside of the row of shops, getting out as though he wasn’t Gray. I, along with the rest of the Whites and all of the Blacks, too, simply stared at him. He strolled casually into the dairy, oblivious to everyone else.
Not long after, he walked back out, empty-handed. The Black at the counter had refused to let him buy anything. So he got back into the car and moved to the next town, hoping that he would be served there.
It was that simple, just like everything else. There was no underlying matter in it – a
ForceForced to tell him I love him Every time he crawls back to me, crying His love for me, his need to hold me.Force
Forced to endure His fist on my face When he drinks too much And he doesn’t know what
Else to do.
Forced to look happy When he buys me the Presents from Tiffany’s When all I want Is to break free.
Forced to help him Every time he overdoses On those pills that the doctor “Prescribed”.
Forced to love him Because he has no one else Because if I left him He would die.
On The RoofThe sound of my breathing reverberated in my ears as I ran up countless flights of stairs, trying to reach the top. How many stories did I have left? I turned the next corner, and there it was: the last level. Sighing with relief, I pushed open the door and stepped onto the roof. The air was surprisingly calm, but the cold bit into my skin, making me shudder. I closed the door behind me, moving slowly towards the immobile figure kneeling on the edge of the roof.On The Roof
‘Wilbur…’ I whispered, the name lingering in the still air. The shape didn’t move. I wondered if he had heard me.
| Hi. I'm a writer, as you probably would have guessed... I am generally a fantasy writer, though most of my work on here is general fiction. This is because I only post poetry and short stories on here and my fantasy writing is usually longer. I have a huge appreciation for all types of art, not just writing; no particular style, but there are some things that I simply love. I'm not much of an artist myself, apart from writing. ...If you who are brave will be readers of my foolishness, Then your hands will not tremble as they reach towards my poems... |
SCREW YOU EMO KIDS.
Content
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We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason why they write so little.
Anne Lamott
lol ^^
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We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason why they write so little.
Anne Lamott
YOU HAVE AN AVATAR!
Whoever made it is awesome. WOO! xD
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--I've got soul, but I'm not a solider--
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--I've got soul, but I'm not a solider--
Rofl, do you want one?
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--I've got soul, but I'm not a solider--
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--I've got soul, but I'm not a solider--
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--I've got soul, but I'm not a solider--
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