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The Girl Who Dreamt of Never Being AloneThere was a time,
Where I never smiled.
It was time in which I never cared much.
Not for anyone,
Not for anything.
When I was younger,
People thought it was just a phase.
That I'd soon over come my shyness,
And have friends.
But I never changed.
People grew scared,
Thinking I had some type of black magic in me.
They thought I was depressed,
Or that I had secrets I couldn't tell anybody.
They sent me to many strange people,
To therapists dressed in covers of white.
But nothing ever changed.
Their worries grew into disgust.
Their stares of pity,
Into painful stares of hatred.
The kind and scared words became sharper.
And each one,
Left a new scar on my heart.
The truth is,
I didn't care.
Not for anyone,
Not for anything.
Right?
They could do what they wanted.
It wouldn't bother me.
My walls grew so tall,
My heart...
It turned to stone.
At the age of nine,
I was just empty.
I didn't feel anything,
Only dull and hollow.
I felt like a doll.
Emotionless.
Only thing

Don't let me forgetDon't let me forget

the words that I want

the words that I need

to write

to type

to say

Don't let me forget

the ideas

that come in a spur of a moment

and have the chance to become something great

Don't let me forget

the people

the creatures

the gods

the demons

the heroes

the villains

that I have created

with all of their details

down to their last flaw

Don't let me forget

the worlds and places

ones that are my own

and others that already exist

Don't let me forget

how all these things come together

to make something magical

Let me remember

my story

i will rest by the river and bloomi have eaten so many cherries i have lost count,
my fingers bundled up with their stems, my teeth aching.
with the fruit flesh still threaded around them, the seeds
look like little organs, little stone hearts:
i eat them all, every one. maybe they will hatch in my stomach
like bitter eggs, and a thousand hundred giant trees will
grow slowly though my stomach and my bloodstream, maybe they will
burst up and out through my mouth. i will be a bleeding flowerpot,
a forest floor with shoes, an incubator. i will be the zombie
apocalypse of cherry trees. i will grow my wooden teeth through the roof.
my bad decisions will touch the sky.

I have your number, SeabirdHis bathroom is small and bleak. The mirror
shows your reflection in seven colors which
haven't been named on the red-blue-yellow
spectrum. Your eyes are shaking like eggs
and he hasn't said your name in a year. You
think of everything he calls you: Jay, Jaybird,
Rose if he's playful. He told you particles of
every man he's slept with are in the carpet
when he pulled your head back to look into
your pupils. Your eyes are black. They run,
raw and rotten from fluorescence overhead.

He told you the shrooms weren't the same.
If you don't like LSD, you might feel better
trying something more natural. It grows
like marijuana: from the ground. But

JuniorFinally, an upperclassman
The year seems to fly by
As you wait for the coveted title of Senior
But you feel stuck
As your boyfriend is off at college
Experiencing
And you are still here
Waiting
And you want him to come back
And you hope he comes back
So you get promise rings
So he has to promise to come back
And sometimes he comes back every weekend
And sometimes not for a month
And sometimes promises are broken
And you are up until the early morning
Fighting
Meanwhile, you are suddenly aware of how
Different you are from everyone
All your friends are picture-perfect
Cookie-cutter representations of
The Ideal Teenager
And every morning, you

Queen of HypocrisyVixen, vixen, pretty little vixen. Why you be vexin'? You think you're so stunning, you think you're so mighty,
you think you're so clever, but really you're so naughty.
With coat as red as flame, and the visage of friendly appeal, you draw people in close
just so you could make them burn and kneel. Why, vixen, why are you so mean?
Do you really think so low of yourself you have to demean?

You speak philosophically, you speak like a sage, but your words are lies woven by the deranged.
You're modest upon sight, I'll give you that, but once people think they know you,
you strike and bite. You can't stand to be questioned, you have to be

The Stage of LifeThe lights flare up,
glaring at me,
accusing me;
sirens screaming their judgements.

I stand in front of the light,
made up on the stage of life.
The gun's in my hands,
the body's on the ground,
the blood's decorating the floor.

Tired, rehearsed shouts echo,
"You have the right to remain silent..."
"Please, son, can you tell me you didn't do it..?"
"anything you say can and will be used against you..."
"You've always been such a good boy,
tell the policeman the truth..."
"You're innocent until proven guilty."

You want the truth?
That wasn't in the script,
honesty was never written...

Do you expect me to spill,
explode with all these secret

FakeIn my mind,
I see the light.

The light shines in my eyes,
Causing me to be blind.

The blindness makes me see things,
Things like the future.

I feel dizzy,
My world is turning.

I see the light,
It blinks in my vision.

Oh, how I could’ve been good for you,
Don’t be so cruel to me.

People crowd around,
I want to see what’s going on.

Alas, I see a dreadful thing,
A boy is crying.

People are laughing,
Picking on him because he’s weak.

I push through the crowd,
Extending a hand towards him.

He smiles, grins with tears in his eyes,
He grabs my hand.

I pull him up and hug him,
I’m finally wanted.

Elements of ChangeWhat is it that makes this different?
Is the air different?
What fills my lungs, is that the change?
What in this is not the same?
Is it the way my hair falls?
What brushes my shoulders, is that the change?
What holds the alteration?
Is it in the steps down the street?
What moves my being, is that the change?

No.

lily pads.I let you crack me open
and allowed your sadness
to fill my empty chest.

Tears; like sea salt
on my ribcage–

From the nourishment
of your remorse,
flowers began to bloom
inside the crevice
of my breastbone.

Tick tockTick tock

Time is running out.

Don't you dare waste it.

Doesn't matter if you look.

Up,down left or right.

Won't cheat this time.

Stuck on a question I see.

Didn't you studied last night?

Tsk, tsk shame on you.

You see,i'm the clock that's hangs in every classroom.

Tick tock I am the clock.

Should I slow down for your sake?

Need more time?

No can do!

I wont wait for you.

I go slow, when you don't want to.

I go fast when you desperately need more.

Isn't it funny?

To see all your faces.

Stressing

Working

Nervous

And confused.

Tick tock minutes are seconds now.

Better scribble down your last answers

For I declare it is o

Story of Evil (Fairy Tail Ver)Hey guys! Haven't published something in ages! IM STILL ALIVE XD. I wanted to start a new story, even though I have like 4 other stories to do, I will be updating them very soon, maybe tomorrow. I will give you some info about my other stories.
The Demon boy and The Girl- Is still alive, I have written the chapter, but haven't got around uploading it. GOMENASAI .

Anyways... onto this one. I've been obsessed with Kagamine Rin and Len, well for a long time. And I LOVE THE STORY OF EVIL (if you dunno them, its like a bunch of songs that makes a sad story that I love) and I decided, why not make a Fairy Tail ver.
I've been in love with the songs

the writer's diseasemy conversations become
blurs of i-miss-you's
littered on the cold floor of empty promises.
you deserve something more than
silhouettes of words, casting shadows onto my heart
filling it with tricks of light
that try to hide away the darkness.

sit down and stay for a while--
except i'm going to go
because i never learned how to keep
the beautiful things
for more than a little at a time;

i'm left chain smoking words like cigarettes
one word after the other after the other,
exhaling them all with my cancer
and my thick, black lungs.

and they say a cigarette takes seven minutes
from your life--
yet these words take memories from mine,
str

Choice Between Two WomenTwo choices stand before you, at your left and at your right,
Both ladies passionate for you, landing you with a plight;
Who would you choose to be your wife,
To live with her till death, for the rest of your life?

Would you choose the woman who glows with grace?
With her long silky hair framing her beautiful face?
Whose tainted heart lies beneath the fake facade,
A heart so dark, her beauty flawed?

Or would you go with the girl whose scarred face horrifies all?
Whose horrid appearance cause eyes to fall?
Whose looks, however, is betrayed by her soul,
A kind-hearted aura that envelops her whole?

As the two women stand before you, the

UnavoidableAvoiding the unavoidable
Breaking the unbreakable
Conning the character of
Death

Everybody’s always
Fighting for more time

Getting and taking all it needs
Hell is selfish, selfish indeed.

I watch from the window
Jeering calls, bring people to their
Knees
Like toy soldiers they fall to the ground.

Men and women alike
Never again to see the light of day
Only in my memory do they live on.

People running and screaming
Quickly the dead start to fade.
Racing to rescue those few
Surviving souls
That are left
Unable to escape the
Vile, nightmare world
World war may bring.

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Playing Pretend"Tell me the happiest memory from your childhood."

Childhood?
Oh dear.
I can't remember mine.

I wonder if it's a side-effect.
Or if I really am that forgetful.
Maybe I just lacked one.

I do remember pretending though.
Pretending to be a hero.
A villain.

I remember living in my world.
I remember playing with cartoon characters
and my own characters
and even with just the walls.

I remember thinking of new colors
sounds
tastes
feelings
voices
and music.

"Did you hear me?"

Oh yea.
The question.

"I remember playing pretend."

Orange Monkey BoyNo signs of life left.

Affection wiped from all
known sources and wells.

Binder covers are empty.
Info boxes list quotes
that speak of individuality
or courage or some form
of relief from pain.

Tokens are shoved to the
back of the closet to be
forgotten and maybe refound
if the feelings ever find their
way back to heart's door.

But just one thing cannot leave.

The bell attached to the
orange monkey boy.

He hangs on my lifeline.
Ringing in my pocket when I
walk from destination to
another sore footed destination.
He chimes in my ear when I'm
chiming into my lifeline.

He's the only string of the
emotion of limerance and l

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Submitted: October 6, 2010
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26 Dreams Are Worth Insomnia

by ~NarutoNinja44, Oct 6, 2010, 4:38:13 PM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

I'm fine with being tired
as long as I dream.

But without my dreams
and just being tired
it's worthless.

26 Dreams Are Worth Insomniaby ~NarutoNinja44

Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

©2010-2013 ~NarutoNinja44

For my 180 Days of School Project.

(c) Naruto Ninja44

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~electronicmuffin Oct 6, 2010 Hobbyist Writer

Nice ^^
But in the second part I think it would sound better and more clear if you took out "and" and changed "it's" to "is". Just my input, but I like it all the same :3

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~fantasyfreak13 Oct 6, 2010

agreed, it would flow just that much better....but as it is I still love it and its message! ^^

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Mood: Content

*momshea4 Oct 6, 2010

So true...

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