Bottle

I have a polished exterior Little do they know All the feelings I keep bottled up. My cork is on tight, But sometimes I spill myself When I’m full and can’t hold it in. The liquid I keep inside of my bottle Isn’t the most pleasant thing. It’s a jumble of memories from experiences I’d

Wall of Emotion

She knew she had to confront them for everything they had done. For the lies they had told her over the years they had known her. For the things they had done to those she cared about. And yet…how to do this to the people who had raised her? Or was their love a lie

Shattered Mind

Hello! Sorry, it’s been forever 😦 I’ve just been super busy with school…Well anyway, enjoy! Rising from the ashes of a life once blossoming Comes the soul of a fallen angel so plagued by its suffering Angry for oneself and for those around who have been harmed Beautiful in all the pain and wrath and

Wasted Away

I found a treasure on the shore, I was warned of it, That it would rip me of my heart and soul. But it was enticing, So I picked it up, And instantly—I was lost in an abyss, A lifetime forever lost.

New Beginnings (and Happy New Year!)

Happy New Year, dear humans! Hope you enjoy this special post! A blank canvas spread out before me, As pure as untouched snow. As I surveyed the vast nothingness, I wondered–where should I go? What should I be, given a chance To start anew… So I walked away from the canvas, Choosing to leave it

Pain

I. physical A large quiet world, Suddenly, sharp sensation, Then gone–sweet relief. II. emotional World is off kilter Hurt feelings refuse to go– Lost soul, broken heart. III. physical/emotional (take your pick) Can pain take a life? My suffering makes me think– Is it worth living?

Ocean

The moonlight glimmers on her smooth surface– perpetuated only by waves. Loving mother to many, powerful and fiercely loyal to her children. She dominates most of our planet, yet she is ever humble, giving herself wholly to our human whims. When she gets angry, she is devastating, but when she is calm, she is beautiful.

Bolt

With a fierce, pure energy, she strikes. With all of the anger and power of her ancestors before her, she strikes. In a dark world, where clouds blanket the atmosphere, she strikes. To create light in a dull place, she strikes. To awe and inspire those around her, she strikes. To feel the soft grass

the days

escape just barely from the harsh biting sun – that which has caused me agony for years past the world I am leaving behind is crumbling as I escape into the cool night air. by the gentle touch of the moon its light shines upon me and I know this will go too – a

The Speck

The dust mote is a speck in a swirling sandstorm. It is one of millions. Yet it is caught up in its own importance, its own life, its own plans. The human walking through the storm thinks only of her own pain. Not of the dust mote, who may die being crushed under her feet.