Death doesn't like his job,
anymore than some of us like ours,
and when he calls forth the gentle flowers,
to answer for their lives,
he hides his tears.
Why do you write free-verse? Someone AskedI like free verse poetry because,
It flows like how I think,
And tends to travel along until it reaches
Something else to talk about.
I’ve written poetry for a long time,
I remember when I was 12 and…
My Mum and Dad made fun of me.
They called me lesbian like it was a slur,
And joked and poked,
And acted like they were only teasing.
And I always fought it,
Because lesbian means you feel attraction…
To those of the same gender,
(if you’re female anyway)
And that concept confused me.
They teased despite me anger
But I have great parents,
Who love me regardless…
I wrote some free-verse and I …
Felt better for it.
Another time I laid down words,
Like they were the blood in my veins,
Was when I was 15 and I asked…
What people meant by “hot”
And all I got was laughter in response.
I’d already trained myself not to ask my parents
At this point in time.
So instead I write poetry.
And got advice from Internet friend
TickI think about ticking a lot,
like the clock that tells me time,
and how it's there,
in the back of my mind.
Just tick, tick tick,
and I watch and I wait,
and I write about that tick,
that odd little noise.
I write about it all the time,
and time seems to not mind,
almost flattered it might be,
by my perception.
So it seems I shall listen,
to the faint little tick,
and wonder what happened,
to make my world slick.
ListenI have been broken beyond all reason,
my age has gone,
been treated like its treason,
to grow up alone inside,
when every-time I speak,
I'm trying to try.
Do they hear that?
in my words and voice,
the shaking of my hands,
the tearing of my lungs,
gasping and listening,
trying to be,
trying to see.
I dont think they can see,
see who I am,
and who I wish to be,
because as time goes on,
I'm losing my song,
my voice and being,
that things that make me,
Perhaps time will tell,
them that they don't know me,
even as they pretend to hear me,
when all they do is see,
the ground beneath their feet,
and the grass swaying in a breeze.
Dont leave me alone,
at least for long,
because we all need love,
12:01The clock ticks
at midnight it will have been another year,
of dealing with bull****,
of crying oneself to sleep,
of feeling murderous intent.
Is it worth another year?
The endless suffering,
the constant bickering,
the tiring courses and people,
The people that tear and bite
and laugh and smile,
Is it better to laugh...
Almost fell asleep,
thinking of everything that can be done,
of thinking about the last year,
of thinking of that last midnight,
It's always like this.
The family is there,
behind but asleep.
This happened this year.
Fighting to stay alive.
Should the fight continue?
So much was done this year,
so much more to be done,
Can't let go now.
Not after surviving,
and living and seeing and
Gender or OrientationIt takes courage to say something different.
But does it matter to know yourself,
when others don't acknowledge your hard work,
and laugh as you declare something they...
don't think is true?
That StoryI've tried to write that story,
in so many ways
and in so many words.
New words, old words.
I've tried to write it funny and cute,
with fuzzy kitten slippers for the mind,
to drift to sleep in.
I've tried dark and mysterious,
horror and pastels,
even that of realistic fiction.
But I've never tried to way it was meant to be written,
the way that if I wrote it,
it wouldn't sound all wrong like the others do.
It would be a story of heart break and loneliness,
of wanting and desiring to fit in but never doing so,
because the real world isn't like that.
You try and try but nothing changes,
you have to leave,
to explore to find new things in the real world.
Take a leap or dive off a cliff,
but the heart break of being an outsider in ones own heart,
their own mind betraying their every emotion,
the idea of submission to the deep pestilence of self-esteem,
and the wondering queries of whether it's okay to not be okay.
I cannot write that story,
as I live it in every waking moment,
Burnt outburnt out,
a synonym for exhausted,
tired and worn out,
done with life and seeing the world,
can continue without your work.
Too much is asked for,
too little is given,
too much to do,
too little time to do it in.
mentionings of that being laziness,
or just un-adaptability.
When it is never the fault,
of the one whose mind
has been destroyed.
Old and newPeople try to forget their daggers,
the ones imbedded in others' hearts.
They turn and look the other way,
laughing, making jokes and...
They think, that,
just because it's been so long,
the dagger has disappeared.
But everyone knows that the world doesn't work,
based on someone's whims and whimsy.
Instead, it lets the knife rust.
The rust cakes it in,
and taking the knife out now would be useless,
because the hole is now permanent.
Kept open by the rust that makes the heart throb....
... in remembrance,
and chemical allure of false
If only they thought to pull it out,
when they'd stabbed it in,
because everyone knows a fresh wound,
is easier to deal with than an old one.
/It's who we are,
we sing and we stomp some more,
not thinking of the other ways,
people might take our play.
Because who knows,
what's going on above or below,
with time just churning,
and rhytmns burning,
as we forget,
what we are,
and think to ourselves,
that who we are,
is just a thing we get to choose.
The Moonfolk We will gather expectance in drops of light
(thus it was said, "their eyes always were tearful")
And pick seashells to make necklaces,
So they too will witness Sun's daily defeat.
We will wait the fall of the last petal, beacon for our kin
(thus it was said, "their soul always was like the Elves' one")
And with its dying warmth rekindle we will, the passions
Of which the echo never gets completely lost.
We will bottle the cries of this era, with night's blessing on the skin
(thus it was said, "theirs was the last clan of the Moonfolk")
And save the dancing, we will leave it
To the elegant flames that so fast will come.
We will let desires burn out, with the pace of organic combustion
(thus it was said, "their hair always smelled of ashes")
And as spark-shaped butterflies, we will free them
Back in the beauty of the deep heavens.
We will steal the fallen angels' allure, make their hearts beat our t
darling, darling. i.
you were in my
darling. i felt you in my
d a r l i n g, and when i awoke i thought
that it was
and you were yelling and
asking me where you were, where
you had been, the worst part
was that i
couldn't answer you. in all
of your anger,
you were still the one person
whose name stung my
you were in my
part of me wishes that you
my mother told me that people
would often break your heart
if you loved them too
much, so i guess that just
this is my fault after
but now i am high
thinking of last winter and how
i spent it
with you, and how i am
doing it again this
Friendship is Magic: Discord Did It Prolouge(Discord's POV)
I've been stuck as a statue for a full year now.
After having previously been in the same situation for more than a thousand years, you'd think one year would fly by. It doesn't.
I swear, either those ponies were taking their sweet time with changing the seasons, or time really did slow to a crawl for the past year.
I've actually been counting the seconds. There's not much else I can do, considering I'm now made of stone.
My nose itches. I do my best to ignore it. It's not like I can actually scratch it. My body apparently hasn't realized that it's stone. Good for it.
Back to counting, I suppose.
Thirty-one million, six-hundred forty-three thousand, nine-hundred fifty-three.
Thirty-one million, six-hundred forty-three thousand, nine-hundred fifty-four.
Thirty-one million, six-hundred forty-three thousand, nine-hundred fifty-five.
This is so organized.
I'm going Well, I can't be going crazy. How can someone who's basically the living incarnation of insanity and
blanched gullets.Psychological inept
as she rambles on
about her follicles
and optical in a fathered
in the name of physics
and how ages ago
in the shadow
of her patriarch.
(She hates kings
and queens because
it's a divisor;
invisible and clear
while she is flux.)
a few turned in the nude
as water turned tides attest
furled in the curves
of the nest as I still
watch over the
drown in the tongue
of waterfall faucet mouths.
Breathing seems like
the sky crashing in on Kansas
as your skin is cold
on the canvas.
Inhale too much
and the scent of chalk
taints the room
like the Grim Reaper
garnishes his toast
I wish I would just die.
That I would run out of power.
That the other's would just stop torturing me.
That the other's would just destroy me and all my parts.
I don't belong here.
I'm an outcast.
A nice guard to play with!
Maybe this time I'll gain a friend!
But where'd you go?
All I see is the leader.
I hide out of fear and come back to see you again!
I want to play!
I steal your torch to start a game!
But what's the matter?
You look terrified, Mr. Guard.
Are you alright?
You're staring at me with those big round eyes.
Trying to talk, I think?
Suddenly, blood splatters the walls as the teeth of a certain one sinks into your brain.
It's my fault.
The one turns around and grins at me.
"Not bad." he says.
I stare at the bloody guard.
It's my fault.
It's all my fault.
I make a whimpering sound.
The one stares at me.
"Ya wuss" he sneers.
All I wanted was a friend.
Like drops of water we fall
I must be
you might think that
you want to be different yourself
you do not
you want to be special
I am not special
everyone wants to be special
not so special
want to seduce me
because I'm different
I don't mind, but
I've never really liked those girls
I don't really like girls at all
I like sex though, so..
I let them
some will fall
in love with me.
want to beat me up
show me my
also because I'm different
and because they grew up with a strong father figure
I don't really like boys at all, but
I like their hatred
so I don't argue my case
will fall in love with me.
Maybe I'm a teardrop
or one of
because for me
are all different.
but you are not special
and even though I sometimes seduce you
want to beat you up
I don't really l