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Non-FictionEveryday she would walk down that road, on her way home from another grueling school day,
And everyday he would smile and wave with a shaky hand, and she would in return.
Good ol' Frank, as the neighbours knew him, at a healthy ancient age,
Who could make even the most tearful soul light up the town with only a grin.
But then one day that age did hit, and ended up in the remedial white room,
Not to be seen for many a moon, until one fateful day
She once again was homeward-bound, till she saw him from across,
Smiling and waving, just as he used to, and she did in return.
The word soon spread till her mother said, a pure black fact that questioned her sanity,
That mere hours before ol' Frank appeared, he had disappeared by the hand of grim.
And so many years later, the girl has aged and has children of her own,
GravityOh lonely moon with you grieving face and tears of silver-gold,
Do you cry because you feel the pain of a fallen heart of glass?
Oh gentle moon with your cold embrace and hand-me-down light from the sun,
Do you lie in the shadows of the grueling day because you feel so frail?
Oh silent moon with your soul so blue and love you once gave away,
Do you still think of the fiend that stole your compassion as another took mine from me?
Oh wise old moon with your eyes of stone and song ever-deceiving,
When you've read the end of sentimental perfection, is there are reason to hold on to such innocent life?
Oh vestal moon, won't you hear my plea, it is all that I can do.
I've shed all my tears and have no more. Only you could have revived me.
So goodbye moon and stars above. Farwell this bittersweet insanity.
I take th
It is just a word.
Something we use so casually.
A description of what is unimportant.
Like the way we treasure what is immaterial, and throw away what matters most.
As if it means nothing.
And every day I witness a reality of self-loathing and brainwash.
As if the world revolved around a thousand eyes and technicolour photographs.
And even I surrender to such lunacy, though I care so little for it.
For who am I to defy the status quo?
Who am I to defy the expectations of perfect strangers?
How dare I live by the beating heart!
How dare I worship the soul!
Who am I to hate the mirror?
Who am I to loathe the winged beings upon church windows?
To dare to love beyond first sight and be enslaved by the rose of the blind.
To see beauty,
as just a word
After 'The End'.I'm not afraid of ghosts or ghouls that haunt the dreams of children.
I do not fear the gentle dusk that robs me of my sight.
I'm not afraid of blood or blades, seeping from the walls.
No, my nightmare is my valentine.
My greatest fear, is you.
The nameless knowsA long time ago, when the fabric of time was only new
There was a place I've only dreamt about
A place that only ghosts can find
They come and tell me of this place, back when they were in a state like mine
And when they speak, it's as if a mighty burden has been lifted from above their being
And at first I feared this knowledge, but as the fabric was flowing the fear became fascination
The thought that somewhere in this lonely world the old, crumbling walls of a place with no name has been forgotten, undisturbed for all this time
As I sat in my class, staring at a incomplete map, I don't utter a word as fear of my knowledge strikes my heart once more
So for all these years, I am silent...
And now, so many years later, I have not seen those ghosts for many sunsets and my questioning has driven me into a dark isolation
But I no longer fear what they have told me...
But in times of pondering, I now wonder...
If my fate is the same as the place the nameless knows
Shooting StarsIn ancient time, so they say
The sky was shades of blue that changed through the hours
Where a myth called the moon and a story called the sun, would alter the light of night and day
And I've heard that fireflies called stars would shoot across this sky at a break-neck pace every once in a while
And if you were lucky enough to spy one, a wish from your heart just might be granted
But there's been no sky for many hundred years, and there never will be once again
But still I dream and still I write
For in ancient times, I heard...
IsolationHis back is facing the rest of the world
Unknowingly trapped in a reality he forgets is not but another's creation
A place that consumes his life, yet he can never truly live
I once knew him well, before he was chained to the pixelated world
He was once a happier, healthier and always remembered my name
But these days, he is a prisoner of obsession, his image is sickly and I am but a distant stranger that fears for his life, like many others that knew him as I did
And we try to help him with all that we are, but he turns his back and ignores us once more
For he is a self-made reject to all that is real
And the king of a world that silently wants him assassinated
Stream of consciousnessI think once and once only
Unrestricted by sensibility or conscious thought
My most inner thoughts expressed in a way without riddles or over-pondered metaphors
Just myself undisguised by expectations or doubt
Unmasked by image, like a diary I never use
A rare moment when I'm completely free, unchained and more complicated than what people assume
But if you can't accept that, then become blind to me and deprive me from acknowledgement
I regret making a selfish wish
I regret not being able to protect more people and despairing before I could end it all
I regret not being of use to you
I regret not staying in the shadows like I was supposed to, and at the same time, I regret having never felt mutual love
But most of all, I regret causing you all to suffer so much more than you would of I wasn’t there to begin with
And for that, I am so sorry
And I’m not asking you forgive or even remember me because I know that would be far too much to ask
So, all I ask is for you to be happy and to at least be with less regrets than I had when your time comes
Because, I now realise that, in death
None of it really matters and the outcome is still the same
And the pain of what you regret lingers on long after your body has been left behind
So I beg of you, is to live so that you have as little regret as possible
So when the time comes for use to meet again, we can both greet each other with a smile"</p>
Ok, so I got really quite lazy with this, but finally I got this up
You went too soon
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