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Retarded In LoveMy mind keeps going back to how I cried,
And asked if I could be your bride.
I realize now,
That tears can be strong,
That crying isn't always wrong.
I'm so glad that you said yes,
When I confessed.
What a lovely dame you are,
With your eyes shining like stars,
Even when your hair is a mess,
You still look so well dressed.
I am so at sea,
By the way you mesmerize me.
You are so beautiful,
You may not realize it,
But I see it in every inch,
And every curve of you.
I love you.
Jesus ChristWell, Jesus Christ.
What a pretty face,
And I know you're not of an expensive taste.
I believe we were destined for fate,
I hope you realize I don't see you for the weight,
You seem to so desperately hate.
I'd love you no matter what you did,
As long as you don't rid me of my love for you.
I'd rather not make this cheesy and boring,
But hell, love is like that anyway,
And isn't that what we're supposed to be restoring?
You're the girl I could make a million songs for,
Because you're the one I adore,
I could do it with ease,
As many as I please.
I could sing you a lullaby,
So please don't say goodbye,
And please don't abide,
On the past that had died.
PsyduckWith sharp white teeth,
And glowing eyes,
The child hid,
And began to cry.
Oh don't cry,
He's just a figurement of your imagination,
No need to worry,
No need to fear.
"But his mouth is large,
And he's got an urge,
To pass me through his big black gorge."
Well then my dear,
We'll make him purge,
And spit you up he will.
"But then I'll be all mish-mash."
Oh shush up and stop with your balderdash!
Oh please though,
He'll come get me,
His bright yellow feathers are stained with blood,
And his feet are covered in dried black mud."
She went to sleep despite her plea,
The little girl was right,
And the monster did swallow up poor
Soft Rose BloodI ran my fingers along the grass, plucking out a blade now and then. I sat on the edge of a cliff above the rocky waves of this distant place as I watched the sun set on the horizon against the glistening water. A tear slowly drifted down my cheek from my nearly black eyes as the wind made my long baby blue hair surround my head and shoulders.
Wisps of hair tickled my cheeks and I tried to smile through the tears. It was a hard, unpleasant smile that caused small dimples to appear on my cheeks beside my tears and hair. I pulled the cuffs of my old black skull sweater over my hands and began to wipe restlessly at my own tears. Wanting for them to stop so badly but dreading their end because it only meant that I would have to go back there. Back to the place I choose to spent this endless summer in. Why did I ever think to do so?
The last tear fell on to my sleeve and I sniffled, wiping my wet nose. I stood up slowly, the wind pulling my clothes around me.
"Jessicka?" I heard a voice tha
When Did I FirstWhen did I first meet you?
When did I first begin to care,
And to love you?
When did I first want to be more than friends?
When did I first realized that you--
Were all I wanted at the time?
When did I first become absolutely sure of our love?
When did I first become jealous of everyone else who was near you?
When did I first begin to cry all the tears I had kept in all those years?
When did I first start to lose who I once was?
When did I first take down my walls for ones like you--
Ones that made me smile and laugh and I knew who cared?
When did I first begin to lose you?
When did I first start to hurt myself because crying was no longer enough?
When did I first stop eating properly?
When did I first begin filling every moment of my life with song lyrics?
When did I first begin to place songs and items with memories that both hurt so badly,
And are so wonderful?
When did I first start to realize that I no longer cared what happened to me?
When did I first start hurting like this?
Don't.Don't point that gun in my face unless you're going to shoot.
Don't take that blade to my wrist unless you plan on cutting.
Don't leave your razors open and freely about because I might just use them.
Don't show me where the fire is because I might begin to burn.
Don't let me cry too much or you may end up drowning.
Don't let me cut too much or you might ending up bleeding.
Don't lock me away because I'll only get worse.
Don't leave me out in the open or I might become insane.
Don't ask me how I am when you know that I'm just going to lie.
Don't assure me of something when you aren't even going to try.
Don't leave me with those pills because you might return to a mess.
Don't leave me with that lighter because you might return to ashes.
Don't let me drive myself insane here on my own.
Don't let my dark si
Sick AddictionSurround my limbs in poison needles,
Pushing neon colors into my veins.
Agony mixed with bursts of masochistic pleasure.
I will never stop,
I will never quit,
My addiction is a thick lust-
Thick like honey that trickles down onto your lips.
My eyes flash with shades of color ten times brighter-
Than that of the ones being injected into me.
Speckles of color flood my vision.
I am blinded by my own will.
I'm addicted to this sin.
This lust I've found within.
I will never leave this place,
This place of comfort that I am in.
I'm not quite sure where I began.
I only know that I started young,
But once you start it's hard to stop.
I don't think I'll ever stop.
These toxic colors,
These feeling of euphoria that flash through me,
I'm not done,
I'm never done.
Not Really SmilingI'm sorry for the confusion,
I'm sorry for the pain.
I'm sorry for all the mistakes-
That I have ever made.
I wish that I was falling-
To this very day.
And everytime I feel as though I'm dying-
It's the best feeling I've ever had.
I find it hard to tell you,
And you may find it hard to take.
That everytime I'm crying,
I feel as though I'm finally awake.
I'm sorry for the trouble,
I'm sorry for my mistakes.
I'm just a stupid bitch,
And I'll pay the price for everything.
I'm sorry I'm not worth it,
I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you.
Everytime you're sad,
And everytime you're hurt.
I wish that it was me,
Because then I could pay the price for all the shit I've done.
I'm sorry for everything,
I swear to god it's true.
I don't know how much more I have to tell you-
That I'm not really smiling.
Renew MeTurn over all our tables,
Start us all anew,
Replenish our bodies,
Bring us all to the light.
Let us see the bad that we have done,
Let us flush it all away,
Let us grasp the concept that others say we-
Are 'too young'
To understand anyway.
I'm cleaning myself out,
Another year to start myself over,
I'm finding who I really am,
Now that my self war has been over.
The memories have faded,
The pain is gone,
I have numbed the pain,
Of all that has been lost.
I'm cleaning out all my profiles,
Getting rid of the things I no longer enjoy,
And keeping the old,
That I find some joy in.
I've actually started to find myself,
Who I really am,
What I am like,
What I like.
Dobry uczynek-Co pan robi?-zapytał chłopiec mężczyznę, który siedział na ławce. Łokcie oparł na kolanach, z ust sterczał mu prawie już do końca wypalony papieros.
-Wiążę węzeł-odparł i powrócił do wykonywanej czynności. Sznur był gruby na końcu zawiązany w szeroką pętlę, jegomość dla sprawdzenia pociągnął za koniec powrozu, pętla zacisnęła się natychmiast. Facet zadowolony z efektu, uśmiechnął się półgębkiem, wypluł niedopałek papierosa na trawnik, przykryty cienką warstwą śniegu, po czym natychmiast wyciągnął następnego, wsadził do spękanych ust. Zaczął obszukiwać kieszenie w poszukiwaniu zapalniczki bądź, zapałek. Wreszcie wysupłał pudełeczko z zapałkami, zgrabia
Not Drowning, But FlyingHidden deep within the jungle, far removed from the outside world, there lay a village. On the night of the Festival of Colours, the villagers would paint their bodies in all the raiments of the Earth and Sky and dance long into the night. They continued in this way until the Outsiders came. They were men in white cloth, who led cattle and cut down the trees so their animals might graze. Then there came hunters, who carried rifles and stalked wildlife for their flesh and hides.
A boy called Bharu lived in the village. His mother had come from the Outside and even though she had taught him their language, she had given up that world to join the village. However these Outsiders did not change, they offered the villagers weapons and medicines, but the boy was afraid. When his father called the villagers together, he told them they must accept these Outsiders and the gifts they brought. Bharu wept, for if his people joined the Outsiders, they would be themselves no more.
He ran to th
ManiI can remember the first time I saw it, my first dead street. The streets once filled with life are now filled with corpses, the ‘Mani’ has already eaten through their flesh, they are nothing now but bones and little bits of flesh the ‘Mani’ didn't get his filthy teeth on.
Explanation might be in order. It all started years ago, a pandemic brook out, it was a parasite that bred itself on the human body, it started as a small parasite moving through the air, they were unable to filter it with masks not even full body suits, because when it was still in the air it was the size of oxygen.
Nearly everyone was infected and it traveled fast, faster than they could believe.
The parasite developed in stages:
First stage, the ‘Mani’ attached itself to a host, it primarily focused on the brain to start developing there. It would breed and grow bigger, it felt as if something was feeding on your brain, although in fact it wasn't feeding yet, just breeding
Who he is.He started out the size of a pebble. He cannot rely on himself, so he relies on another source, who steadily supplies him with what he needs. As months pass, he gradually develops so he is able to thrive. Nine months later he is unleashed into the world. Through the years, he does as is expected and does so without a doubt. It is at the age of fourteen years that he began to think of himself. He reflected. He discovered the truth.
He realized he has to cease his charade of being the person others want him to be.
He cannot do so to the extent he would like. Still he must introduce himself by the name he was born. He cannot dress the way he desires to. Constantly people try to control who he believes he is.
But he knows who he is.
He is not the girl he was officially born as. He is a guy. And he struggles to try and prove it to a world that generally disapproves.
(Req) Scotland x Blind!ReaderHe is distinctive.
You close your eyes and breathe in that scent- although Allistor smokes, and heavily, at that, you can detect other smells beneath the ubiquitous tang of cigarettes. You like the way the aromas mix together, tobacco, aftershave and a sort of pine, wood-like smell, like freshly carved furniture that makes you think of outside. You can tell when he's approaching just by scent along, and when you tell him so, he merely snickers softly as he wraps his arms around you. The smell that reminds you of home. Even when he's just stepped out of the shower, his signature scent naturally clings to him, just as much a part of him as his accent or physical features. Sometime if he's away, you will slip on a shirt of his, just to feel like he's still around. It's kind of goofy, you know, but it's your little secret. Who has to know?
You like the way he says your name- you've never been that fond of it, yourself, but he has a way of saying it that makes you melt. It's usually a soft
The Fall Of The AngelsThe Fall of the Angels
Lucivar, the Shining One. The Prince of the Morning. The Light of Dawn. These were his names when I knew him in the days before the earth was formed. Lucivar, Beloved of Heaven, chief of the Angels of Light. He was my best friend, my brother, my dearest companion.
He was beautiful; shining white hair that flowed down his back, enormous pristine wings that were soft as down and always immaculately groomed, luminous eyes full of joy and wonder.
He was gentle, mild-mannered, soft-spoken. I loved him fiercely, as I suspect many of my other brothers and sisters did. He was the favorite of God, and much time passed during which he was in rapt conversation with Him.
I remember all too well the day I finally opened my eyes and saw the fearful flaw lurking insidiously beneath that perfect exterior… Vanit
BaptismOn this plain I walk a little farther , though somehow my skin is half underwater. I dive into the ocean, but my mouth fills up with sand. The water was never really there… I have water in my hair, though there is none on the dying grass or in the air; It’s spilling out of my brain. It’s hurting...
Play me again, play the notes in my mind. Play the strings that run along my face. Hold me down under the ripples until the bubbles come up a different color. Sing to me the ocean waves and I’ll flow downstream into nothingness. It’s peaceful here; I lay myself down once more. It feels good to be alone again... This is my home.
Do we live only to die? Or maybe we’re only half alive? I’ll hold my breath for another few moments, to discover I’ve been holding it all my life. I can’t breathe... I want to breathe... Water falling from the sky, water falling from my eyes, water running down my thighs, cold as fate’s bleak lullaby…
DesertWith merciless rage the sun scorched the earth to a brittle hardness. All around was the headache inducing chirrup of cidicas as they squatted on the single tree. The tree was withered, preserved by the burning sun. The only life in this desolate place was the cidicas and a lone vulture, his feathered cape pulled close to him and his head low, like the harbinger of death.
The earth itself was warm to the touch. Cracks ran across its surface. It had once been mud, and the heat had baked it into a great plain of brick, as hard and unforgiving as the rest of the landscape. The once huge water hole was now only a muddy dribble, and the bones of an elephant remained, pecked clean by the vulture. A rock, like the tree had been bleached white by the sun’s blazing gaze and was the only other piece of landscape. The desert ran on and on, straight in to the blue horizon.
The great dome of the sky was so blue that, straight up, beyond the great eye of the sun, was almost black. It wa
A Story of LoveA boy sneaked through the crowded streets, looking for his next target. Deformed, filthy, and covered in rags, he was a frightfully ugly child. He was a thief, among other less honorable professions, and today, he looked for a pocket to pick so that he might chance a meal that night. This boy, scarred by the world and her cruelties, had become a cruel being himself, thus scarring himself further. His heart was ruled by hate, malice, and fear. Violence was his ally, and distrust his companion.
Walking silently along the crowded streets, he saw a well dressed man in white cloth, with a silver ringlet around his head. he was trying vainly to hand out invitations to wandering people.
“Please, come to my banquet,” he called out to each passing person. Despite the man’s welcome, the people either ignored him or scorned him. The boy snickered quietly to himself, for he knew he had found the source of his next meal.
Creeping up to the man in white, he pulled out a hidden knif
.Pool of Knowledge.I find myself tied to a small rope that's just about to break while I float upside-down above a pool of knowledge.
I cry into the pool as I attempt to reach for it, wanting the knowledge so badly, not all of it, no.
I could never swallow up all the knowledge in such a large pool.
But I just wish that, even for a second, I would be able to suck in more than the small droplets that the wind blows up towards me.
I feel worthless, like I don't know anything worth shit.
There are ones higher up on their ropes, true, that are getting even less droplets, but still.
They are mostly younger, and their rope will be lowered in time.
But there are others, some even my age, that are lower than me.
They can reach and suck in as much knowledge as they can before it evaporates right in their hands.
Then there are all-powerful ones.
Ones who freely drink from this pool.
But some of them are too greedy and puke it
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More