StolenI feel I have been stolen from, My one true passion, taken, Their permission has been withdrawn, I can never go back to what I love, It took only one paper, Covered in inky words, To decide my fate and seal my insanity I will have no release, No where to comfort my fallStolen
All my love has been stripped from me, Leaving me nude and frozen, Vulnerable and fearful When you love something,
You fight till the end to get it back, But this is the end, Or at least, it feels that way
He took the easy way out,
I wish I could follow,
Northern ParadiseI have a special place up north where the cliffs hang over the shore, looming and covered in jagged mountains. I never realized how vast the sea is until I saw it there, stretched out endless for miles upon miles. The ocean gleams with sparkles, thousands of reflections bouncing off the hundreds of angles in the water, no matter how calm. The gently rolling waves turn into thunderous, roaring crashes as soon as they hit the sharp rocks, jutting out from the ocean like a shark's fin. And when it gets dark the sparks of the fire shoot off into the night like tiny dragons flying off to their cave homes, leaving glowing trails behind them. The maNorthern Paradise
Strange GlowsStrange glows, Strange glows, Echoes off of the walls, Empty, blank and white walls, Empty room Stark and frightening, All the secrets, locked inside, With strange glows, And echoes off of the wallsStrange Glows
ConformConform The voices whisper Conform, Give up, Wave the white flag They all whisperConform
You can kick, You can scream, Your nails raking at the walls, Crying, Don't make me! And all they whisper back is conform
Fight all you want, It won't help Conforming is a sacrifice We all have to make Conform they all whisper Voices as thin as smoke And as hard as nails
It won't make any difference If you fight, They will take you down, Like a pro football player, Tackling you into the ground
| I am who I am |
--
"Writing is making sense of life. You work your whole life and perhaps you've made sense of one small area" ~Nadine Gordimer
--
"Writing is making sense of life. You work your whole life and perhaps you've made sense of one small area" ~Nadine Gordimer
--
"Writing is making sense of life. You work your whole life and perhaps you've made sense of one small area" ~Nadine Gordimer
--
Lying in bed would be an altogether perfect and supreme experience if only one had a colored pencil long enough to draw on the ceiling. -G.K. Chesterton
--
"Writing is making sense of life. You work your whole life and perhaps you've made sense of one small area" ~Nadine Gordimer
--
"And please remember me, at Halloween
Making fools of all the neighbors
Our faces painted white, by midnight
We'd forgotten one another."
Previous Page12345...Next Page