Rock a Bye, Baby
Rock a bye, baby, in the treetops,
Your beliefs are unfounded, your religion is shot.
When your life shatters, how far will you fall?
Down comes the baby: mind, heart, and all.
Hawk and LinyaLinya's eyes fluttered open, squinting in the sunlight shining on her face from a small hole in the thatched roof. Inwardly, she cursed Hawk. She had asked him weeks ago to fix it. Drowsily rubbing her eyes, she sat up and pushed the woven blankets to the bottom of her small cot with her delicate feet. She slipped a blouse over her head. It was woven by the Hennain Quelia, the fabric her absolute best. It shimmered like the surface of sunlight on water, colors shifting to blend with the leaves of the forest. Her legs were covered in tightly fitting leggings of light brown leather, at the bottom tucked into boots of slightly darker leather that went half-way up her calf. Her glossy black hair she hastily put up in a braid that fell past her waist. After grabbing her quiver of arrow and bow, she swung the door open and ran out into the bustling village of Praepis.
She slid along the outskirts of town, until she found the small dirt path that her bright grey eyes searched for. Noiselessly
Letters to Angels (NaNoWriMo Day Five)
1/16/2011- 8:14 p. m.
My eyes fluttered open as the turn signal of Pollux's car ticked and we slowed. Sleepily stretching, I caught a glimpse of a worn wooden sign displaying the words "Historical Travis Family Cemetery." "Are we there, Pollux?" I asked lazily. He nodded, and when he looked at me, I noticed his eyes had darkened. His door opened, and, following his lead, I climbed out into the cool air. A gravel path led from where the car sat cooling. Pollux held out his hand, and I took it tentatively. We walked down the path, hand in hand, beneath the trees rustling in the wind. As we turned around a bend, a black iron-wrought gate came into view, padlocked with a rusty chain. He stopped in front of it and reached into his shirt. I watched as he drew out a small ornate key on a golden chain. He unlocked the gate and stepped in, with me following closely behind. I stepped in on overgrown grass in a beautiful grove with rows of tombstones, some crumbling with the wear o
what did i do
i live everyday in the darkness,
locked away from the light.
they put me in a cage, a fortress,
to keep me from their sight.
what did i do to deserve this
to be called a monster, a freak?
i am all alone, friendless,
my life is empty and bleak.
i have never seen my face,
in pool, in stone, or in glass
but if i venture from this place,
nothing dares to cross my path.
am i really so inhuman,
that you must always scream,
i hurt, i feel like every man,
i wish, i hope, i dream.
who am i to deserve this,
to be held here in a cage?
i wander forever hopeless,
my very life a maze.
i said i wouldn't hurt him.
i begged he set me free,
and realize that what killed them,
was my father and not me.
but worthy of death i was deemed.
my blood now stains the floor
because they couldn't see past how i seemed.
I AM THE MINOTAUR.
Letters to Angels (NaNoWriMo Day Four)
1/8/2011- 11:34 p. m.
I am so rested, more rested than I have been in weeks. I only slept four hours, but it feels like I slept for days. We woke up at about ten when her mom yelled down at us that breakfast was ready. Her mom is the sweetest person ever. She looks like an older version of Helen: all smiles, sweet blue eyes, and curly blonde hair. I started out by calling her Mrs. Travis, but she insisted that I call her Leyda. She flitted around us, calling both of us "hun" and "sweetie," even though she just met me, offering us more pancakes, more sausage, and did we need any more orange juice? "Moooooom!" protested Helen. "We're fine! Really." Leyda looked at me dubiously. "I don't know " she replied, "this one looks like skin and bones. More pancakes, dear?"
"Thanks, Leyda," I said, helping myself to several more chocolate chip ones. Helen threw me a dirty look. "What?" I asked defensively with my mouth full. "Your mom's food is amazing." I had to ch
Letters to Angels (NaNoWriMo Day Three)
1/5/2011- 12:25 p. m.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I couldn't handle it anymore. Too many people around me, closing in on me. The silence was deafening, the air stale from lack of words. I know you would chew me out for skipping class, but another one's coming. I I can't breathe. Brittany, he
1/5/2011- 2:32 p. m.
Where where am I? It's dark, so dark. How did I get here? I don't remember leaving the bathroom. A digital clock is glowing enough for me to see the time, but not enough to see any details of this room. Wait. Somebody is in here. I'm not alone.
1/5/2011- 7:21 p. m.
The strangest thing happened today. At the beginning of school this week, a new girl started at our school. She found me in the bathroom, whimpering and curled up on the floor of one of the stalls. Unsure of what to do, she brought me to the darkroom. Her name is Helen. She's sweet and nobody has warned her about me yet. It was nice to be able to actually talk to someone
Letters to Angels (NaNoWriMo Day Two)
12/31/2010- 11:58 p.m.
Two minutes until a new day, a new month, a new year and a new life without you. School begins again on Monday. I don't know if I can bear the looks I know I'm going to get for what happened at the funeral. Before, they just suspected I was strange, but now they know I am. Mom and Dad left for a party to try to lose their grief for a moment, I suppose. If I died, do you think they would act this way? They would probably be glad to be rid of me. After the funeral was over, when they actually started looking for me, they refused to talk to me in the car. Once we were in the house, they both started yelling at me. Even Mom. Our quiet, mild-mannered mother. Dad was so furious, his entire bald head turned bright scarlet. "Why?" he roared. "Everywhere we go, no matter what we do, you have to do something to ruin it! What is wrong with you, you you freak?!?" Mom was bawling and yelled something about Carter and why did I blame him for this acc
Letters to Angels (NaNoWriMo Day One)
Letters to Angels
12/28/2010- 3 a.m.
I told you. You should have listened to me, you of all people know. Why did you do this to me? They are angry, so angry. Why didn't you listen? You said you wouldn't, you PROMISED me you wouldn't ride with him. Yours isn't the only life that ended today. I died with you. I HATE you, I HATE YOU SO MUCH!
12/28/2010- 9 a.m.
I can't help but wish I was with you. My stomach is upset. Something bad is about to happen, I can feel it. I don't like this. Mom and Dad are waiting to see how Carter is. I don't like hospitals. There is something ominous about them. Death hangs heavy on the air. If you were here you would understand. You'd hold me until it passed, but no one else, not Mom, not Dad, will. Everyone, even our parents, think I'm a freak. Maybe I am. I love you, Brittany. And I miss you, so, so much.
12/29/2010- 1 a.m.
My hands are shaking. I can barely write. Oh God, what did I do to deserve this? I fell a
.: Film :. Miłość posiada własny kadr, gdy film się rozpoczyna.
W którym każdy swoją główną rolę odgrywa.
Z niby idealnym scenariuszem, reżyserem, aktorami na scenie.
Dar filmu, trudne jest jego wczesne docenienie.
Uczucie kwitnie, świat pełen radości.
Bez problemów, bez zazdrości.
za zasłoną miłości schowani.
Materiał się urywa.
Rzekomy idealny rozpada się świat.
Który miał trwać bez końca, nieskończenie wiele lat.
Została jedynie stara kaseta video, na której zostały te chwile nagrane.
Pokazuje, jak dobrze grali, śmiali, czuli, uczucie rozwiane.
Po latach wielu, odnaleziona.
Z zawartym materiałem ponownie odtworzona.
Jedyne co zostało, to wspomnienia.
Nie te złe, te dobre, trudne do uwierzenia?
STOLEN INNOCENCESTOLEN INNOCENCE
Maybe you're wondering why the title is bold,
well that is because a story needs to be told
This isn't your average poem about a personal thing;
actually, it's about a subject that makes my heart sting.
Picture a girl, no younger than five
whose heart is filled with joy and is oh so alive.
Think of the teen you may call your best friend
who just might have nearly met a bitter end.
Think of the boy, you might have once known
whose purity was taken before he was grown.
Think of the men women stolen away
only to be tortured and sold another day.
What am I referring to? you may ask.
Well this poem of explanation, is my next task.
They're the victims of pain and despair; whose hearts did break
on the day they were robbed when people their innocence did take.
Innocent and unknowing were these people like you and I;
those who, today, are often passed by.
Without being able to fight back, they were molested and raped,
with hands bound tightly and mouth duct taped.
.........Today....I had someone unknown text me.......asking me..."why do you try? what's the point?"......I replied..."the point is located at the end of my razor blade"...................again...they repeated..."what's the point?"....I said..."to draw on my body"........they replied.."your not worth anything"....while I ended with a.."that's one of my pictures I drew on my arm"..........
.: Sen :.Zawsze w cieniu ukryty, brak mu czucia.
Bierze się znikąd, do nikąd co ranek powraca, cel po nocnych markach snucia.
W oczach wieczny ognień złości.
Płomieniem żal, knotem nić zazdrości.
Zawsze w kącie, w mroku skryty.
Przez żadną istotę niezdobyty.
Wolny, od siebie zależny, choć wiecznie z łzami w oczach.
Włucząc cicho się w zakamarkach po nocach.
Samotny twór, w myślach zamknięty.
Przez inne istoty nie pojęty.
Wieczna duszy męka.
Z serca wzięte, innych nęka.
Nigdy nie wiadomo, gdzie czy kiedy się objawi.
W czarze czernią wylaną, zjawy zbawi.
Inni zwą go koszmarem.
Zjawy prawdy darem.
Zawsze wróci, wiecznie będzie tu.
Odbierze ostatniego tchu.
Późny wieczór, zima sroga,
na śniegu odbite były łapki w równym rzędzie.
Od furtki do drzwi, to jego główna droga,
głodny, pałęta się dosłownie wszędzie.
Więc, otworzyłam te wielkie drewniane wrota,
Siedział tam kotek malutki.
Pierwsza nocna gwiazdka, mu w oczkach migota,
biedny, z głodu chudziutki.
Z dobrego serca wpuściłam go do środka,
Otarł się o nogi i zatrzymał się chwilkę.
Jego mina była wprost przesłodka,
patrzył się na mnie jak na zbawicielkę.
Nakarmiłam go i poczułam się zmęczona,
przysiadłam na minutkę lub dwie.
Nagle poczułam, że zostałam przytulona,
to ta mała, puszysta kuleczka usiadła obok mnie.
"Nie ma za co" - rzekłam poruszona,
i razem pogrążyliśmy się w głębokim śnie.
NOT GONNA DIENOT GONNA DIE
All your life,
You were hated and despise,
you were abuse and wanted to die,
All because for being alive.
You put on a happy mask,
So know one would see,
The pain you hide,
All the misery.
You have friends that care,
That love you dearly,
But are they really?
Could they really love the real me?
Because of the mask you wear,
They can't see the real you,
They can only see a fake lie,
so... can anyone love the real you?
But I'm not going to die,
Even when I'm hated and despise,
I'm not gonna die....
Without putting up a fight...
It appears you don't have PDF support in this web browser. Download PDF