Sometimes I sit and cry, wondering if I made the right decision. But I try and live with no regrets, I make all choices with precision.
Beautiful Mess.Beautiful Mess.
So you know that girl who’s always at lunch by herself, always at home by herself, a complete loner? Yes, well you've just met me. Quiet, shy, completely ignorant of every form of human being, my name is Violet.
I’m a freshman at Groverdale High this year, and well, let’s just say that school is not my cup of tea. Knowing that I have to go right back to that hell hole every Monday through Friday doesn't give me a lot off motivation. It’s only been a week since the school year began, and I literally feel like I’m dying. I don’t mind being a loner, I mean, I’ve always been one, but the continuous glaring at me is aggravating. At my old school I passed through the halls like a ghost, I was invisible, and I liked it that way. I’m certain that only two people, aside from some of the teachers, in that entire school new my name. I was fine there, but here, here it’s a different story.
According to my observations, the only
A Better Day.Hush hush, don't cry, rid of those teardrops in your eye. I hate to see you feel this way, but realize all this pain won't stay. Forget me, forget the past, don't let your memories last. I'm really not worth the pain or sorrow. A brighter day will come tomorrow.
Broken.He's broken and bruised, unsure of which path to choose. They've loved for a while, but lately, he can't seem to make her smile. He tries his hardest, he tries his best.. it's starting to seem like an impossible test. There's two different choices, only one you can choose. Choose the one that makes you happy, after all, there's only one way you can lose.
For You.I'd cry for you, I'd die for you, I'd run a thousand miles for you.
Through all my pain and sorrow too, I'd still manage a smile for you.
Poem.I know what I'm doing is rude and wrong,
but Honey, let's face it, I can't stay strong.
I'm broken and bruised every single day,
I thought that it might, but it doesn't help to pray.
You reassure me you're not leaving, you'll always stay true,
I hope you keep your promises because I love you.
Some people think things just go to my head,
but i'm not kidding, if you leave me, I'd rather be dead.
The Flesheaters"Oh my gosh, could you be quiet for once?! I'm starting to fail this class, and you know why because you won't stop talking! I can't hear anything the teacher's saying!" "Jeez Izzy, don't freak out dude. I'll stop talkin' okay, if you think that will boost your grade up " Matt laughed sarcastically.
"Man, if we weren't in school right now..." Izzy muttered under his breath.
"What would you do to me? Beat me up? Tell on me?" Matt asked curiously.
"Well, you'd find out then, wouldn't you?" Izzy said.
"Wow man, you're so scary! I think I'm gonna go home and cry to my mommy!" Matt laughed.
"You just watch your back man, karma is gonna come back and get you for all the things you say to people." warned Izzy.
"Eh... I don't believe in karma, I choose my own future." Matt laughed.
"Okay bud, you just keep on thinkin' that in that smart little brain of yours." Izzy smirked.
"Hey man! I do have a smart brain! So don't try and be cool by rippin' on me like that!" Matt yelled.
Stunning, the message
Outrageous to the knowing
Superb, the technique
Hilarious to the informed
Master of his Art
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
TakenIt was just a strategic readjustment.
It was just a necessary tactical move.
It was just your finger moving half an inch left
and curling slightly.
It was just the centimeter or two of difference
between the moment that just was,
and the one that is,
but you reached for my hand
and you took my heart.
I think of youAs suns set afar and mountains flame
And eagles, turning, turn to fire
Ash cold, alone I lie
And think of you.
All Hallows EveThey say that on this night the witches ride,
that spirits walk and churchyards spew their dead.
It isn’t true.
It’s said the stench of hell infects the earth
and healths of heated blood are downed.
But Hamlet lied.
The dead know nothing, the living less.
There are only poets with blood-nibbed pens;
souls hung between high heaven and deep hell.
alcohol and words sometimes mixHe said good night
because he couldn’t say
It was one of those times
when his tongue was an anger,
his insides an outburst of words
and every particle of the universe
he has inside him.
He was fourteen
when he made the excuse
it was probably the overwhelm
of being anti-poetic and Shakespearean
at the same time
that robbed his voice box
of his voice.
He’s twenty-three now,
taller with his own share
of metaphoric broken bones
and drunken one-night stands
but none the wiser on the stars
he keeps wishing on.
There are two things you can have
when you’re afraid:
courage or more fear.
And he realised with a smirk
and a pitfall in his stomach,
that he’d been allowing himself
to ride more on the latter.
But yes, he loved her very much.
He just got too drunk
on the poesy
SapiosexualI don’t know what I’ll do
when the first fistful
of dirt hits the bottom.
Maybe I’ll follow you to the grave.
Or maybe I’ll pray
for a zombie apocalypse,
so we can dine on each
other’s brains one more time.
powerless, and reaching."He's the kind of person
who tells me to 'cheer up'
when I'm depressed,"
he says, scoffing,
and I shake my head
"What a useless comment."
He chuckles, agrees,
but I keep thinking about
about all the "cheer up"s
and "just be happy"s
he's heard in his life.
I want to say "cheer up,"
I want my words to magically
cure him, heal him,
crush his depression
in a way that no pills ever could,
but I know it doesn't work like that.
Happiness is not an item
to be obtained with quarters
it is not a country to travel to
in airplanes and sailboats.
Happiness is a change in the wind,
a flicker from east to west
that cannot be upheld permanently.
For him, it is a road
blocked by people who roll their eyes
and tell him to get over himself.
When I wrap my arms around him,
he laughs again,
sinks into my body.
I think about hollow rooms,
sound echoing off the walls.
Not My Kind of Fairy TaleDon't give me the Knight
Whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the Knight,
Whose armor is dull and broken.
Whose horse is weary,
Whose heart is heavy.
Give me the Knight who looks at the dragon with pity,
For that dragon has done nothing,
And is just as imprisoned as the princess he guards.
Don't give me a princess who only wishes to be saved,
By that Knight whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the princess who wishes to escape yes,
But wants to free the dragon,
Who does not wish to marry her savior--
Nay, give me the princess who wants to explore,
Who wants to live and to learn.
For the years of imprisonment only made her yearn,
Not for the Knight whose armor shines bright,
But to see the world and live in the light.
Do not give me the evil dragon,
Whose soul purpose is to give that bright Knight something to fight.
No, give me the dragon who is weary,
Who longs for the freedom of the sky,
Whose leg is burdened with chains,
And whose heart aches for the princess he must guard,