A Violet Shade Of Death :DraftShe followed her gut on this...for when her family was missing the best bet was to follow her gut , at least that's what she'd learned through out the years. The young woman continued on her way humming as the sound of leaves crunching beneath her bare feet echoed in her ears. The forest was dark now only the gentle light of a crescent moon allowed her to see ahead of her. Cory. She growled in her mind. The only time she was counting on her usually sleepy and lazy younger brother to watch their other siblings while she was gone was the time the idiot helped them with their less then genius adventure plans.
New Lives And Gift KnivesNEW LIVES AND GIFT KNIVES The older girl was careful to avoid going in the streets so instead she takes the back way to her home stepping in through the back door. Letting out a sigh of relief when she finds a note telling her that Kaleb has left to go help their parents in the next town over. She slowly makes her way to one of the well furnished guest rooms setting Kathedral down. She starts to gently and carefully clean the young girl up. Reaching out to brush the young girl’s hair she allows herself to hum softly. Most of the pieces of cloth and water bowls she uses are dirty with a muddy brown and hints of purple and red. As Looking at Kate with her clean skin and tangle free hair sleeping peacefully looking calm. Niko decides it's her turn to clean up. She grabs one of the fluffy white towels from the bedside before silently leaving the guestroom allowing her protégé to rest. Nikoletta sheds her torn dirty clothes on her way to
Beauty Vs. BeastBEAUTY VS. BEASTNiko has heard that when a mentor’s Protégé is in trouble the necklace is to react and tell the tattoo to burn as a signal they need help. Without much thought said mentor rushes from her house into the throng of town people. Weaving expertly through the crowd it feels like an eternity before she spots Kate and the demon attacking her with long claws red beady eyes and peeling skin. Some of the men in the village are trying to kill the demon and failing miserably. Niko knows better than to fight the abomination in front of others. So despite her pride she lets out a blood curling feminine scream drawing the demons attention to her before running into thick woods outside the village. Nikos Heart sinks when she hears a whimper from behind her. Stopping and facing the demon realizing it still had its filthy hand around Kate’s neck. A hellish growl rips from Nikoletta’s throat. Her eyes seem to darken much like tare col
Necklaces And Tattoos NECKLACES AND TATTOOSThe hazel eyed girl leads the way in to her humble abode. The sight was quite unsettling for Kathedral. Nikoletta is never one to just give in or take something laying down but nevertheless she follows the older girl inside."now Kathedral-" Nikoletta begins"Kate. Not Kathedral" Kate interrupts"Okay Kate. I'm Niko. Anyway you are going to need this" Niko hands the younger girl a thin silver chain necklace with a small X with a line going horizontally through it. Niko watches Kate take the necklace examining it with the look of complete confusion and curiosity. Niko gently takes it back putting it around the young Burnett's neck."Keep it on always but never let anyone see it. In a few months or maybe a year you will get a tattoo of that symbol on your wrist that will indicate that you are full member of the sisterhood. The nec
Welcome To The Family WELCOME TO THE FAMILYThe sun has yet to shine its warming rays on the land of the small village. In one of the many houses still covered in the dark of the autumn night in a large well-kept room lays a young woman covered head to toe with a warm white quilt sleeping on her queen sized bed. Light blue curtains hang from the four banisters at each corner of her resting place. Soft snores drift in through the walls from the room next to hers where her older brother is resting. All is peaceful and tranquil until a load bang forces its way into the sleeping girls’ ears. Her bright hazel eyes slowly drift open. Lazily she sits up; unwrapping herself from her warm cozy cocoon. Dark black hair with shades of brown woven through falls in front of her face. The young woman gently removes the dark strands while gliding her feet to the floor. The
Roles We PlayIn life we are all assigned a character to play a script that we never auditioned for we just wanted to be ourselves is that society has told us that's what people encourage but they want you to conform so naturally the society gives us line from the script we're different we must play out the character in a story line that we don't always get to choose. When we finally get a chance to be ourselves we are not sure that the person next to us is fully them or their character because we ourselves have trouble distinguishing who we really are the person society and others want us to be. It's cruel things now that we are all actors in some way or another and we don't get paid for it. We have to go through and do it act say what's appropriate for what society has deemed is okay or us that day. So our friends people we love in people we are close to have their role to play as well and sometimes their role in our character are not written in the same script for long in that we are not always a
Oh SpringOh, spring,Oh, glorious spring,All the happiness you bring.Oh, tell the sun,Oh, the wonderful sun,To bring her warmth and come,To Shine down on the things that need to be done.Oh, whisper to the flowers,Oh, the beautiful flowers,Remind them to bloom,To show themselves soon.Oh, Yell to the waters,Oh, the magnificent waters,Urge them to flow,And never their currents slow.Oh, greet new life,Oh, innocent new life,Smile at them from all around,Let them listen you your calming sound.Oh, spring,Oh, glorious spring,All the happiness you bring.
Army Of One Only few seem to care Though they’re never there To see my broken body Strangers stare at me oddly They know me they say Let them leave as they may An actress in public A dying soul being robotic Pills don’t numb the pain Razor blades give my skin bloody stains The bullet let the ease came Another lost fight hires on the screen How life could be so mean So at least the end we are an army of one Not a lot got done Now to find put who won some believe death is a gift Others a curse Scared body; secret broken soul lefts
Porcelain DollI'm a porcelain doll not an angel.No not at all.All the mistakes I can't take back,Only makes another crack.I wish I could sit on the wall.For I'm only a porcelain doll.I don't want to break,From all the memories and love the demons take.
.tell me a lie_she said, "Lie to me" he said, "I love you"
read when you feel drainedThere will be dayswhen your thoughts overflow,teeminglike hot teain the kettle of your mindand you may feelsteeped like a tea bag,as everyone extractswhat you have to offer,and you're s l o w l y becoming drained but just rememberwhen you're put in hot water:you have the strength to change it into something greater.
End The Hate (Gay Rights Poem)I was walking with my husband,During the month of May.His name is Bobby,And I'm Adam Galloway.We were holding hands,We were happy as can be;And then we met a stranger,And he said to me:"Look here at the faggots!You're ruining my path!I hate you gay ass fuckers,Now you'll feel my wrath!"The man pulled out a gun,He aimed it at my head;Bobby jumped in front of me -Poor Bobby is now dead.I caught his falling body,As the stranger ran away.I lost the love of my life,All because we're gay.He risked his life for me,For Adam Galloway.His name is Bobby G.He died for being gay...I was eating with my wife,We were on a date.Her name is Sarah,My name is Deven Kate.We got kicked out for kissing,So we approached our car;And what we both had seen,Was pretty bizzare.Our tires had been popped,Our windows had been smashed,The back seat was on fire;So we both had dashed.We didn't get that far,When a girl got in our way;She said to us, "Now burn!"We don'
portrait of rosaliemy grandmother devoursphoto albumslike Tolstoy novels,mémoire aprés mémoire aprésmémoire.she tells me the same storyabout her first jobwithout a carfive times over,looking awayto anotherworld,black & white to me,but full-color to her.alzheimer's is a language.like french, it isjust another part of her.she does not rememberconversations from a week agoor to turn over laundry,but she remembersbus rides in the south, pre-1964,white weddings ingrey cathedralsthat are shopping malls now.i have learned to translateher repetition,the ways she can tellthe same memoryagain and againlike it is the first time.for this, too,is language:the new inflections in her voice,new details,the tears that frequenther glassy eyeslike uninvited guestsshe lets in anywaymy grandmother'salzheimer'sis a neologist,changes the waywe communicatenow.trauma is passedthrough generationslike hand-me-down clothes.c'est héréditaire.my grand
Depression Isn't RealDepression isn’t true, my dearDepression isn’t real.It’s just a silly tragedyYou’ve forced yourself to feel.Anxiety is fake, my friendYou wonder why it’s there.But others have it worse than you!Stop forming false despair.Cutting is dramatic, love,It’s ugly, and it’s dumb.Why not just get over it?Is the attention fun?Suicide is stupid, dear,And selfish, if I may.Get over yourself, darling,Can you hear these things I say?Why aren’t you replying, love?Oh, where could you have gone?I never meant to hurt you, love,Did I say something wrong?Why aren’t you replying, dear?Depression isn’t true!…Oh, but yes it was, “my dear”...Just maybe not for you.
AnxietySometimes,Sick isn't somethingYou can see.When I'm standing there -Sweaty palmsHeart racingFists bracing -Absolutely terrifiedFor 'no reason at all',I hope it makes youFeel big and tall,To tell me I'm being stupid.When I can't talk to someone -Because my throat is dry,And I feel sick,Like I can'tCatch my breath,Like I'm going to cryLike I'm hurtlingTowards death -Don't tell me to'Get over myself'.When I'm crying -Can't breathe,And my kneesGo weakAnd I'm too scaredTo speakAnd every heartBeatMakes me jump -How can you tell meI need to 'grow up'?When I can't get on a bus -Because so many people,So many eyes,And my mind is force-feedingMe so many lies -Don't tell me I 'think I'm betterThan everyone else'.I'm trying my hardest.Really, I am.Would you tell someone with a broken legTo just get up and walk?Would you tell someone with no tongueTo open their mouth and talk?Would you tell a wingless angelTo fly?No.So tell me why -When it is
the little boy who cried deathi can't controlwhere i live,who i sit by,what i like,who i love&you can't controlthe countries your father trades you to,how far away the moon is,what your body looks like,who you loveoh, you know this already.let's blame it on biologyit's the fault of genetics,of chromosomes.let's blame our allelesfor playing favourites.Let's cut to the chase:your body on his bed.Let's cut to the chase:it all ends with a sigh.Let's cut to the chase:you're beautiful, girl,we both know this,we both know howscience plays favourites.but you're mine
God Told me a Secret (Gay Rights Poem)God told me a secret last night before bed,He leaned into my ear and silently said:"I love you my child, I really do."I hate none of my children, it really is true;"But I am real angry, not with the gay, bi or straight,"I am angered with those who only spread hate..."This world I created is now such a sad place..."It has been ruined by the human race."Why should it matter who my children date?"It is their life so you shouldn't spread hate!"And then when you say, 'I hate because of religion!'"You need to open your eyes and see that hate's YOUR decision!"You can choose between peace or spreading this hate!"You can choose to love the gay, bi and straight!"But as soon as you choose to hold some dumb useless grudge,"Know that it's you who I will judge!"All my children from all around the globe,"Stop being such a homophobe!"All my other creatures can get along great!"Why is it just humans who choose to spread hate?"I am so angry, so filled up with rage!"My children must
things i want you to know.0.there is a picture in my living roomof my parents in their twenties, in sunhats,laughing.there is a picture of my father holding mewhen i was two years old.there is a picture of my parentson their wedding day.there is a picture of me when i wasten, eleven, twelve.i’m seventeen now andi won’t let my mothertake any of the picturesdown.i need to believe that, at one point,this house was more than justslammed doorsand silence.1.i was born on the second-to-last dayof april.i weighed seven pounds, two ounces,and it was ninety-nine degrees out.four years before that, in 1992,the officers who beat rodney kingwithin an inch of his lifewere acquitted.five years before that, in 1991,a cyclone in Bangladesh killed138,000 people and made 10 millionhomeless.ten years before that, in 1986,a fire in a Los Angeles librarydamaged more than 400,000books.and on that day, april 29, 1996, i was bornand i’d like to pretendthat it was a go
Now you are an angelNow you are an angel,For only angels come when you die.We close our eyes,Hearing your angels lullaby.Now you are an angel.