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Sky to FreedomIs it possible to keep to the sky?
You know, there is little to gain
In those dreams that make you fly.
So what's the point in your refrain
From simply watching the ways
Of the emerald, swaying trees
Or the rivers that flow for days?
Ah, you want to be free
Even though it comes with a price.
You want to spread black feathers
Only to let the white ones entice
Your chained soul altogether.
You're sure this is your choice?
I mean, we've been forever
Controlled by that voice!
Though our only endeavor
Was to be out of that cave.
With a single wish for freedom,
And yet, we are no longer slaves
To the place we came from.
Even though you are no longer caged
The call of the growing sky
Keeps us forever engaged
Though we may try to rise and fly.
HolesEach little lie, or hidden ambition
Hides in a hole, as is tradition
Riddled with dreams, and fearful obsessions
That once were loved, in someone's possession
All the broad smiles, each a facade
With monstrous trinkets: knit, torn, and odd
Still broken treasures can easily lie
To thoughts so forced they can't seem to cry
Though cloudy with tears, and false memories
Keeping a hope that fades to the breeze
As such locks can try, but still cannot
Forget what was already hastily forgot
By those that are troubled by labourous pasts
As thinkers attempt to help them at last
Claiming their tales and lies to be so
But what do imaginary people know?
Of YesterdaySnow falls on the battlefield
Washing over the blood
And the old tools
As mothers come
To find their children
Laying under its cold embrace
And a little girl
Mourns for her brother
A handsome young man
Killed in the raids
But he would not let her
Pick up a weapon
Because she was weak
Because she was tired
But he can speak no more
And of the war plaguing her
As he drove his knife
At the attackers
But the knife slipped away
And struck his own heart
In the forgotten times
One That Burns FireA little man holds fire in his hand
Something known all across the land
Still he is unable to catch a glimpse
Though modern machines have tried since
Yet he is safe behind weary masks
Forever amused by tedious tasks
Keeping hold to slight burst
While watching in simplistic mirth
But that little man does not know
That which he holds shares a common foe
And as his mind begins to fall
It cannot bother him at all
For a true flame will never die
When there is still one left to cry
Your golden braid
So I may have
A fortune made
And very clear
Just may hear
In the light
It'll be tonight
Be too afraid
So I may have
A fortune made
AdrianHe holds his treasure in a damask cave
Behind a silver and hardened lock
That has troubled the minds of many thieves
As they cannot help but wonder
As to what lies beyond those black curtains
Shielding the treasure from the scalding sun
He has always preferred a deep violet to black
It reminds him of the haughty monarchs
That invade his everlasting peace
But what do they measure to him
The rich one
The dark one
The unfortunately immortal one
He always wonders who he is behind his darkened mask
He knows he is not death
As his treasure holds more than measly souls
But he is not life nor will he be
As it can be told by his realm
That lies under the depths of Earth
He sometimes visits the world
That excited his meager and forgotten past
With stories of heroes and creatures
And enlightening tales of adventures
That differed from the dull and stuffy spirits
Who still hide behind their feathered wings
He would trade his title and his power
To understand himself
And his bountiful t
Unpredictable StormsStorms have never been ones for pleasantries
As flighty spirits with unstable desires
That simply wish to bring destruction
To all those that cross their enraged path
With all crossroads leading to an uncertain fate
Because storms have always been
In ways that a mortal cannot comprehend
As their urges are insignificant
But still mirror those of the storms
As they are shaped in a lost image
Once taken to by the ancient summer's day
To shield their pastel figures from the darkness
Cast by sullen clouds over ruined fates
That were beyond the reach of restless fae
The Girl That Painted the EarthThere was a girl
That painted the earth.
She tried to capture
Its vast beauty
With a mere thought
The girl drew rolling hills
To be colored with
Her brilliant paints.
A stroke could call
Forests to her canvas
With leaves and footprints
Filled with life
Waiting to be created.
She would paint the greens
Of a forgotten meadow.
She thought of blossoms
Brought back with
And royal purples.
She painted snowy mountains
And deep plateaus.
Her sketches showed
And closed caverns.
But sitting back to watch
Her paintings come to life
She realized something
Now obviously clear.
The girl was lonely.
So she began to draw beings
Living and breathing things
To fill the empty gaps
Of her paintings.
AliceShe is bound by padded silk chains
Along a cold white wall with no windows
But it has a simple door just small enough
For ideas to be taken and hidden far away
Beyond the failing distance her mind can see from
But she is still forced to hold eternally close
To the words she spouted carelessly in her past
That whispered and shouted of clouds and birds
That loyally took new shapes for her
As a fortune most simply cannot see
Nor will they ever attempt to glimpse
Still he promised to forever love her
And follow her wisps no matter where they float to
With her mentalities cracked and all
As he jumps first into pitfalls and secrets
That were never his to begin with
If only to catch her as she unwillingly falls
But she could never return the favor
Oh she could not even lie to do the same for him
Though her thoughts may protest otherwise
About the love he always continued to bestow upon her
Due to all the harsh might she gave
To remember a dull smile like his could be
Without those dreaded fee
FreedomWhat is freedom?
Freedom is being able to do whatever you want, without gaining any undesirable effects.
Freedom is a simple paradox, something impossible that we constantly seek. Is freedom that is constrained still freedom, or is it imprisonment?
If we live within a world with a free-market, although we could buy and sell whatever we want, those who make, who work for others have no freedom, they are forced to work tirelessly or face death, they are slaves of the rich, as what we would become. Whereas in a communist society, there is forced equality, you do not have the opportunity to rise above others or fall below others, you are stuck inside of a equilibrium. With laws, we can punish those who do wrong, but with laws comes the opportunity for injustice, without justice, there is no injustice. In a world without laws, we do not have the freedom of luxury, to relax inside of laws, as life would be a constant battle to survive, as it is now in lawless countries.
We are irrational cre
Look at yourself!!Look!
You're the brightest star of them all.
See,darling,you're the most beautiful one,
But still,you chose to fall.
Your wings shattered,
And your soul went black,
Did you ever regret it,my dear?
You keep it silent,there's no way back.
You left heaven behind you,
Do you miss it? I know I do,
I miss the innocence and the glitter,
The sweetness of the clouds and the truth.
I miss my wings,
Yes,honey,I lost them too.
See,when you fell,
I jumped. I fell with you.
I just wish you'd take me in your embrace,
Hold me tight and never let me go
Your sinful lips on mine,
Send me the wind and I'll know.
I can feel you all over,
My body is sinful,my soul is almost gone
I know the taste of your scent,love,
And I know your body is still warm.
And one day,I just felt the known heat;
I felt your lips on my neck,your arms around me
I looked at the mirror,how fucking good we are together.
And in that darkness,I knew,you'll never leave.
Please Don't Go"We put things in the ground to grow"
I sat at a park
with my cane at my side
along the frame
of my leg
when a girl
"Then why do we bury people?"
I shot a glance
towards my feet
at her bright ruby
tap your shoes three times and say
you want to go home
"so that they can grow."
I looked at her,
deep in thought.
"Why would they need to grow when they're dead?"
crinkled at the question
then I spoke
"a seed starts from the ground, but unlike that, that is where we end. We grow for our death to become real to others."
the girl smiled
and then grasped
for my hand
I am her grandfather
I am a ghost.
are the kind of person that I
think that should be around more often.
Simply because you are the kind of person
that never says what you
Which at least keeps things interesting.
I like puzzeling out if you mean what you say,
or if you're saying what you mean
even when you are saying
at all. I feel as though we are still
so close that I could whisper my secrets to you
as we lay beneath the maddening sky, like we did before.
I remember the rushing of your breath as you clung near
my side. Secrets and whispers and silence.
All combined in a deafening (defining) roar.
Because though you say you're ever sorry,
The only one who's sorry is
The Significance of Tolling Bells and Tearseach toll of the bell signified another hour gone, wasted
away, dashed from the pages of lifelost within its heady
sands b l o w i n g through the desert winds dampened only by
falling tearssplashes of salted water, nourishment for parched
throats stagnant with the aching illness of pain; overwhelming
sensory glands with acute thuds [pulsing throbs] against flaking
skin, cracking under the scorching sunbeaming rays catching
foolhardy thoughts established in heat-induced mania, time
slowly passing by while trudging steps searched for the way out of
the forestrefusing to admit the only way out was the same thing
that made tears fall, ever closer to the ground until eyes close,
fluttering shut with tired strokestears leaking for one last time;
desert sands, inescapable heat taking the life of yet another whose
bells have finally stopped tolling; another whose tears fall no more.
A Dying Rainbow
A Dying Rainbow
I'm always told that I'm such a wonderful person
And that I'm thoughtful, caring, kindhearted, and so important
But they don't see what's behind closed doors, the constant clashes with torment
Damage goes unseen as I blanket everything with cold smiles that seem slightly burdened
My tears quake while they hide behind my blackened shades
My hands tremble because I'm holding onto so much of this hate
My body is painted nonchalant so I have to appear in an emotionless state
My blood system is clogged with suicidal thoughts that make me want to break
I've been like this far too long
I wish I died before this had begun
Surrounded by fear is where I don't belong
I just want this lucid nightmare to be over and done
Society these days
Teaching children the old prejudice ways
And that's why certain individuals grow up so afraid
In the end, a premature death is the price loved ones pay
I'm one of those
Dwelling in fear at the end of my rope
Trying to conceal agony tha
Fleeting Love (Russia-ish)He thought his heart, cold and dark,
Could not let in single ray of light
But she appeared
Like a gust of wind in a valley of sunflowers
And he loved her, and could not tell her
"Do not turn away from me like the others.''
And she stayed
And looked fondly
And touched softly
Among the golden sunflowers, tall as the sky
"I love you." It suddenly slips out from him
Her astonishment, blush, shortness of breath
Will she reject him after hearing the scared thumping
Of his heart?
He turns away, to flee
"Wait, I love you too ...''
And the heart's ice melted, the darkness gave way to light
A hug, a kiss, a desire
And suddenly a piercing sound, tearing his heart open
Time stood still, he stands motionless
Can happiness be so fleeting?
Her lifeless body like a marionette whose strings have been cut
A trickle of blood on her chest blooms like a rose
"Kiss me, do not go! Do not leave me alone with this love!''
But she no longer hears
She has gone away to the world of dreams and golden sun
Pokemon: Broken Ties
Broken Ties~ A Pokémon Fanfiction
(Note: This is the canon Pokémon game universe (G/S/C/HG/SS), but the characters are older. Gold is fourteen and the Kanto trainers are seventeen or so.)
They still see each other sometimes, of course- periodically, occasionally, just enough times to assure Green that Red had not killed himself yet- but it was almost as if that with each passing day, the gap that was between them grew ever more wider than before.
It had not always been this way of course. Once upon a time, they had dreamt of the whole world- two little kids with a girl called Leaf, the closest of friends, united by a common dream: to be the greatest of the great, to etch their names in history. To be champions, all. The question of who would be stronger never arose- it was a topic that they never really talked about or thought about.
What hadn't been in the planned agenda: the break in their friendship bought by too many issues
Can You Hear Me?Muse, bless me, let me spin my tale.
A story of death and destruction.
Will you believe me?
A story of infidelity and war.
A story of blood and rape.
Can you hear my cries?
A story of murder and trickery.
I am calling out to you.
A story of Helen of Sparta.
The day she arrived at my home I knew.
I saw the blood, dripping from her dainty hands.
I saw the fangs hidden behind shining teeth.
Her beauty does not act as a mask. Her beauty does not act as a veil.
Taken from her home, does she despair?
Or perhaps celebrate?
Am I insane?
Infidelity becomes bigotry.
Does it matter?
A second husband, a second life.
I see the blood splattered on her pale wedding dress.
My father smiles, he welcomes her.
He does not heed my warning. He does not heed my dreams.
Will they listen to me?
Or mock my existence?
Am I insane?
I see the camps, the war camps.
Our city is safe, they say.
They send our youth.
Sent to slaughter other youth, and be slaughtered in return.
The city is safe with our impe
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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