What the hell do you expect me to do?
I can't do ANYTHING!
I just wait, hoping for a note, a comment,
something that proves you haven't forgotten me in your other life.
I can't trust myself.
Silence echoes of despair.
How long must I wait to hear from you?
How many nights alone will I have to spend,
fighting my self-destructive urges?
I want it to stop.
The silence,
the sorrow,
the anxiety and fear.
All of it.
You can't abandon me like this.
I NEED you.
Pathetic, I know.
Still...
You PROMISED to be my light,
but you are hidden from me.
Shadows skulk around my mind and heart,
promising,
questioning,
suggesting,
insinuating.
When will yo
This is how you loved me. . .
seeing you in profile,
a crescent moon
with hills and valleys
of your landscape,
eternal night, and the sight,
tableau of eruptions
that covered me,
the whisperings of silence
from silhouetted ice trails. . .
but I can't say how,
one day, you did
while
never seeing the dark side,
and plunder from the Oort cloud;
its tapestry
changed beyond mem'ry,
this is the way you left me. . .
but I can't say how,
one day, you did
while
seeing you in profile,
a crescent moon
with hills and valleys
of your landscape,
this is how you loved me.
I Remember the Day When Earth Fell by thwackcrackers, literature
Literature
I Remember the Day When Earth Fell
Often the young children will come to me and ask, "Do you remember the day when Earth fell?"
I will look to them and say, "Yes, for my memory still serves me well."
I remember the screaming people, the panicking outcries of a billion voices clamoring against the vastness of extinction.
I remember the airships that took us to the sky and beyond, breaking free from our doomed world and into the infinite blackness of space.
I remember staring out my window, screaming in fear at the blazing gunfire streaming from the monstrous airships in hot pursuit.
I remember my father holding me close as he always did, whispering, "Have no fear, ch
Hello again, Mrs.Ravana back again. Heh heh. I'm sorry if I've bored you poor readers with my stories but from what I heard, my stories are worth wanting more. So
I've been told. But I have to tell someone about this, just out in the open.
My daughter, Leslie, is really starting to make me worry. She's been doing well with her grades, and her friends, but...I feel as if I'm left out. I mean she will tell
her dad about her grades and her day but when I try to ask her if anything great happen, she shuts me out.
She won't tell me anything funny or interesting, it's just "It was a nice day." Of course, I ask my husband and he tells me what
If I were to decide to let go,
to vanish forever....
What kind of legacy would I leave?
A few drawings and stories?
A lot of sad poetry and broken dreams?
Or would my passing leave something less.... artistic?
I wonder if I even make a difference.
I wonder if I just leech the light out of people,
and destroy everything I touch.
I try so hard to curb my Darkness,
to avoid listening to the voices,
and keep my emotions in check.
Somehow I feel it's not enough.
That I am not enough.
How am I supposed to fight something like that?
With a heart, mind and body that cry for my blood and death?
Why can't I win?
I can never justify my existence.
It was
A Deranged Sense Of Beauty by FlameAlive, literature
Literature
A Deranged Sense Of Beauty
I wish I was pretty
pretty empty, pretty vain
I'm sick of thinking
wish I was pretty in every way
I wish I was pretty
pretty normal, quite OK
I'm sick of being left out
wish I was pretty in every way
I wish I was pretty
pretty sexy, pretty lame
even if I was nasty
for everyone likes a pretty face
Oh, screw being pretty
I cannot bare to hate myself
my darling, please forgive me
to you, I'm pretty in every way