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Angel Wings and Guitar StringsA face I love is missing.
A voice I love is still.
A place is vacant in my heart that no one will ever fill.
Many things have happened.
Many things have changed, but how much I love and miss you, will always stay the same.
Those we love don't go away, they walk beside us everyday.
Unseen, unheard, but always near.
Still loved, still missed, and still so dear.
Time may hide the sadness, like a smile that hides the tears.
But precious memories of you will never fade, despite the passing years.
A beautiful life came to a sudden end.
You died as you lived, everyones friend.
You were always thoughtful, loving and kind.
What precious memories you left behind.
You left me suddenly, thoughts unknown.
But you blessed me with memories I'm proud to own.
Wrong?Why can I do no right?
Why is it that i've lost this fight
Between dark and light, between day and night.
I've lost track of which is which, perhaps they have begun to switch,
Love is hate, hate is love
What once was pure now runs with blood.
Snakes writhe in the place of the dove,
God is laid to rest
As the Devil rises above.
AddictionA shot to kill the pain.
A pill to drain the shame.
A drink to forget your name.
A purge to stop the gain.
A cut to break the vein.
Anything to numb the brain.
An addiction's, an addiction,
It all hurts the same
Dear TherapistYou stare at me, pity overflowing from your eyes
But you don't even know what will be my demise
You do your best, but you'll never understand
I'm broken beyond repair, you can't hold my hand
You can't guide me through this shattered life
The only help I have is the knife
DamnI love him
But he doesn't love me
Nothing like a Shakespearian tragedy
No award winning play in which to spout my angst
No, I don't measure up in the ranks
No glamour or glitter, save the whistles and bells
I'm just a girl, who kissed a boy, who's in love with someone else
Angel WingsA face I love is missing
A voice I love is still
A place is vacant in my heart that no one will ever fill
Many things have happened
Many things have changed
But how much I love and miss you will always stay the same
Those we love don't fade away, they walk beside us everyday
But always near
And still so dear
Time may hide the sadness like a smile that hides the tears
But precious memories of you will never fade
Despite the passing years
A beautiful life came to a sudden end
You died as you lived, everyone's friend
You were always thoughtful, loving, and kind
What special memories you left behind
You left me suddenly, thoughts unknown
But you gave me memories i'm proud to own
FallenA girl sits all alone
Wings folded on her back
She sits upon a thunder cloud
The night time sky is black
The girl cries an angel's tears
That fall to ground below
And become rain upon a barren field
Where plants no longer grow
The girl looks up to heavens peak
And waves her last goodbye
With broken wings she falls to earth
She knows she cannot fly
Rantings of a LunaticWanted: Prince Charming, must be able to slay dragons, and fight the monsters under my bed and in my heart.
I don't know what the point of anything is anymore. We die to live, we live to die. I don't understand. Maybe ignorance is bliss, the more you think the more depressed, sad and destroyed it makes you. At this moment i'm suffocating. In my own blood. Held by monsters, unable to escape. The past is a rather vile thing is it not? This will never work out. Everything ends the same. I guess i'm insane. The definition? "Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result". Always. Over and over, rinse and repeat. I wish someone could rescue me from my own thoughts right now. They never understand; I don't need protection from you, I just need protection from myself. Protection from the knife I hold in my hand. Is it really the monsters holding me back? I guess logically this could just be considered a state of mind.
Death isn't a fresh perspectiveI saw my mother
swallowing something small
when I was just a child
The anguish in her eyes
faded, as she told me
it was just a
with a little extra kick
maybe years later,
that's how I convinced
to swallow fifteen,
give me a fresh perspective;
in the end,
my breath reeked
instead of mint.
fall in love with (splitting hairline fractures)we swallow blues instead
of talking them out. oh,
kids like us are specters,
spectacles: boys counting
rib(cage)s & (de)composing
don't you hate
is a vessel
we're deities or tomb-raiders; no
in-betweens for writers these days
Dark SideThere's another side of me
A side I barely show
It's my dark side
And my pride
The time I showed it to my friends
They were shocked, worried
I will tell you what they said
Decide for me
If these are what you call
One said 'just be happy'
One said 'that isn't true!'
One said ' but I've got it much worse'
One said 'don't be annoying'
One said nothing at all
Only One listened
That could be you
This is my dark side
The one that tells the truth
It makes me write
It keeps my dreams
It is everything I have
But no one knows
i'm not going to lie and say she was perfect.her skin was spotted with what she passed off as freckles,
but what were really scars from a thousand summer suns
as she ran about outside,
climbing trees and treading rivers,
pretending to be an american bomber
in the midst of WWII.
she kept crimson stains on pearl pink lips,
which always had the habit of getting on her teeth
because she put on make-up after dressing in her car
and ordering coffee in every way she hated it
as she drove to the record store three times a day,
ignoring her job downtown.
she owned four and a half hairbrushes exactly,
i took count on the first night i stepped into that whirl-wind room,
though her lopsided up-dos of messy blonde hair revealed just how much her fingers
never broke the dust.
she had these lovely fragile hands
that showed each and every vein and bone,
the type of hands made for tearing boys like me apart.
how could i have even expected to survive,
a paper poet
held against a reckless flame?
I died todayI died today
Took my own life
I was tired
I was desperate
And now I'm dead
People never cared
So I left them behind
Now a new life awaits
Beyond the gates of Hell
each kiss carries
context and content,
sad eyes pour into mine
like a swimming pool
being filled with angels’ tears.
i cup her face in my hands,
trying to hold all of the water
that escapes her
as i gently kiss her forehead.
i will cradle her cerebrum
and maintain our composure.
i will protect you.
refers to the hands on a clock,
as well as the anatomical.
and this kiss is subtle,
but it represents our passing of time.
i started this with my mother at 13,
and only a few embraces away from 18.
with our fingers locking
themselves to adolescence.
i never have visibly blushed,
but i swear my flushed cheek
burned where your left your lips
for nearly a lifetime.
at least that’s what it felt like.
i kissed the blinds
that covered the windows
of your soul
to let you know
the sun still shone
even if your eyes were close
bone brittlethey say that love is like an ocean and you can feel the waves
filling up your stomach, saltwater rolling against your nervous system.
they say that when you're in love and you curl your toes in pleasure
you can feel wet sand between them, warm against the skin.
but your love was like a desert.
our love left me parched, throat raw, the taste of grit in my mouth.
my stomach empty, growling for some sort of sustenance,
something you always refused to give me when i needed it most.
you told me you loved me, like a mirage floating amongst our heat.
if love is like an ocean then you were loneliness, i guess.
every saltwater tear you cried evaporated into thin air.
you were the Sahara and i was the Atlantic.
we collided every time we met.
Dear GodDear God,
Would you extend your holy hand to save a wretch like me? Would you bow your graceful head for someone who wants to believe? Would you bat an eye if I lay my life at your feet? Or are the hallowed halls of your domain only for the elite? Would you light up the sky if I asked for a sign? Can you spare any love for someone of my kind? I'm done with this life, praying it gets better after. I crave to trade in my tears for laughter. It's a lot to ask, in fact I don't know how I dared...but honestly, I'm just scared. I'm one of the many, who never prayed till I fell. I've never believed in heaven, but I know I'm going to hell.
Love, a depressed athiest
A Guide to Writing DialogueWhat is dialogue, exactly? The definition from Merriam-Webster’s dictionary was several lines long, so I shall summarize it in a short sentence for the sake of the readers; it’s the writing that illustrates conversations between two or more characters in a story. We read and hear it all around us, but creating it in your own work can be a challenge. However, if you find dialogue an obstacle in your writing, then don’t push the panic button. In this tutorial, you’ll find by analyzing what dialogue can do and how to use it, you can turn your greatest fear into your greatest ally in your story.
What dialogue is
Like I’ve asserted before, dialogue is basically what the characters are saying to each other. It can be found in multiple mediums such as books, movies, comics, video games, etc. We even engage in dialogue daily without even thinking. When you talk to your best friend, a co-worker, or even your dog, you create dialogue. It’s exchang
five.Five is the number of times you worry he’s stopped breathing, as the surgeons carve around his heart, twisting away the plaque ridden arteries, and pulling a vein out of his leg. Five is the number of heart wrenching hours you and your family were waiting in the hospital room, worried that your lives would crumble, that there would be five members of the family instead of six, that five days out of the week he would not come home for dinner, that five kisses from him would no longer be given to his wife and four children. Five was the amount of fingernails you bit off while watching people enter and exit the waiting room, and the amount of minutes your mother spent on the phone, explaining that something was wrong. Five is the critical difference between holding a father’s hand as your mother cries into his heart shaped pillow. The difference between rejoicing and smiling weakly because he’s okay or carrying your father’s American-flag-covered-casket and watchin
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