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The Trump Card. I walked through the old fair grounds, trying to find something in the least bit entertaining to do. I rode all the rides, ate funnel cake, and played all of the games. But I had a feeling I might of missed something. Eh, who would normally care, right? I mean, you rode everything. But this was a tad different. My friends wanted me to do everything at the fair, because I had only been once in my life.
I continued to walk around, until I stumbled upon what seemed to be an old, circus tent. Me being who I am, my curiosity got the best of me. I glanced at the tent a bit, seeing the... bland colors. Nothing but black and white. I looked up at the top, to see if it had anything. All that was there was a sign that said "Dark Raven's Telling." I noticed a light glowing through the tent. It seemed like a lantern. I pondered for a moment, thinking if I should go in or not. Again, me being the curious person I was, I went in for a little look.
The only thing that was really not
Go To SLEEP. -Jeff the Killer Poem-The black haired boy looked in the mirror.
All he could see that his end was growing nearer.
He smiled for a moment, but he was in pain.
He knew for a fact he was going insane.
He laughed and laughed.
He took a knife and made his little scary "craft"
He cut a smile into his mouth.
In his mind he looked beautiful, without a doubt.
He walked in his room and looked for a lighter.
He turned it on, the fume growing brighter.
He burnt out his eyelids, laughing more and more.
Then he threw the little lighter down to the floor.
He picked up the knife he took in his room.
He would no longer be consumed by gloom.
The boy walked down to the end of the hall.
He knew that they would pay, pay for it all.
He slipped in to the room, quiet as a mouse.
He knew the way around his very own house.
He took the knife and stabbed his kin.
He didn't care, he knew it was sin.
As the knife went deeper than deep.
You could here the very faint whisper.
"Go to sleep."
Mexico short story. -Hetalia-Mexico raced down the long garden that him and his brothers were playing in, trying to catch up to his brother. "Wait, Toni!" He said, still running after his older brother, Spain. They were playing hide and seek, and Mexico was it. He was playing with his brothers, Spain and Portugal. They were both older than him by a few years, and they always picked on him. Mexico wanted to show them that he could be just like them, but every time he tried something, Spain 'the boss' told him that he could never be like them, and that made Mexico very upset. He never knew why.
'Why do they hate me?' He thought to himself, still chasing after Spain. Portugal was hiding in a tree, watching his youngest brother chase after the other. He chuckled at the thought that Mexico said that he could catch Spain. Portugal tried to climb the tree higher, but made a wrong step. He slipped and fell all the way down to the ground with a thud. Mexico and Spain stopped immediately once they heard their brother wince
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be one of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
CarolineYou loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
are more attractive
and all poets are
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
it was a broken sense of beautifulhis smile was like dust caught
in sunlight; more like a dreamy state
of being than reality, like the half-
remembered yesterday that still haunts your
memories because you
didn't want to forget how it
we'd lie on the floor with
slats of light shot across the ceiling, drinking
in the atmosphere
with windows propped open by
books and yellowed pages,
and by the time
we wandered into sleep, we were drunk instead
smell of roses --
he was a broken kind of beautiful, a
beautiful kind of flawed; love-letters, anonymous
and never sent littered
the dusty floorboards beneath his
of what we were before
love found it's way
back around; hours passed in a sunset haze
as my fingers ghosted over words
he'd written half-asleep, ink smudged on his fingers --
they say the music
comes when your heart's about to break, more
like a whimper than a bang; but i've
never heard a song so
sweet, and this sense of lovely has found it's home
inside my bones --
Confusion and Illusion.Confusion and Illusion.
Looking at everyone walk by,
Seeing them all smile, and I don't know why.
Even as rain pours down, I still don't see a frown.
It confuses me, but yet that is all I see.
It's pretty much my life,
Not being able to tell why people act the way they do.
It's like being in a room with no emotion.
That is my life.
Being locked away in a room with the ghosts.
The ghosts of my past, and all I see is doom.
Doom, doom, doom. In a small little room.
The walls are a bright sky blue.
And hearing the 'coo' of the birds outside.
It makes me know what my life is.
It's not confusion.
...It's just an illusion...
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