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.
Dear DepressionDear Depression,I remember so perfectlyThe moment I met you.I was nine years of age,So little,Wearing a pale pink dress,My hair curled elegantly,Falling gently around my shoulders.So confident.So innocent.So young.And, ha! I thought it would last,But was I wrong, oh, was I wrong.I remember the moment someoneImpaled my mind with their opinionsOf who I was asSuchAn innocentLittle girl.That, dearest Depression, is the momentI understood what it meantTo feelUgly.And, although it was you,Dear Depression,Who made it hurt,Who made it throbAnd made my thoughts thrash within myMind...You were my friend.I turned to you,my 36-day-long sadness.I loved you.But it killed me.Loving you made me awareOf what "suicide" was,And more importantly,Why is existed.Loving you brought me happy little momentsDefined byCuts on my thighs.I listened to you, oh, Depression...I listened!"Find the nearest scarf, rope, thick string"You'd say these thingsEchoing in my bedroom
Thoughts on Growing UpThoughts on Growing UpI.I exist more inside of my mindThan in reality.I am not sure what I am trying to find.I think I am trying to loseMyself.II.I liked the sing song of nursery rhymesBefore I knew the story behind them.I liked the way the world lookedBefore I could read between its lines.They sound nothing like my little kid lullabies.Everything seems to remind meOf how it will never beWhat I wished it was.III.I thought growing up was supposed to make me stand tall.My veins are rootsDigging themselves into the ground.But nobody ever warned meOf the tree snappingThunderstorms.IV.And I feel like a little kid,I’ve got bright eyes and scraped up knees.The scratches so alive and raw.You use grown up band aidsTo cover up your wide eyed dreams.But I was never one for reality.Keep your band aids.I’ll make my own way to the NeverlandThat I dreamed of.I’ll make my own lullaby.Goodnight.
to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub.i.to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub:in the magazine I own that published your story,they blurred out the crime scene photographs,erasing your face andthe full curves of your breasts.some part of me wondersif you would have wanted this,or if you would have liked for the public to see you in your final moments,half-soaked in grey-looking water,your hair in strings, glued to the porcelain,eyes closed and mouth gaping,no breath stirring, no bubbles rising.ii.sometimes when I lookinto the depths of my bathroom sink,I hear your voice(or what I imagine it to be--after all, we never met).you sit on the edge of the toilet seat,and chat to me about the weather.I would give anything to hear your real, living voice,to ask you what you were thinkingas you lowered yourselfinto the tub, queen of the tendrils of steam,and let your lungs deflate like old birthday balloons.iii.on the news they say that your autopsyrevealed three quartersof a bottle o
Art and Other WeaponsI use words like an anchor.Tying myself down to a piece of paper.In books my heroes used swords,I use a pen.I got a mind as violent as a hurricane.I could use these words to build me a raft.Because it’s the only weapon I have.And this pen isn’t what it looks like.I finally found some sort of voice.I can use it. These thoughts inside our heads are like bombs, so let’s defuse it.It’s my torch.I could burn the shadows, set fire to these fears.I could use ink instead of tears.I could use books and poetry like a night lightBecause I never liked the dark anyways.I could use it like a head stone…Writing about all of my friends who couldn’t find a flash lightIn time.I could write and writeUntil my skin was stained with lilies made of ink.I write because I thinkAnd when you think too much there is no escape.So I say, when everything is too muchJust create.Little dream weaver, you have all the pieces.Arm yourself with a paint brush,We
Depression is an OptionDepression is a choice, my dear,And happiness the sameYou choose this illness, don’t you?What a tragic little game.Depression is an option, loveJust get up out of bedTake your tears and worriesAnd just smile now instead.Depression is a choice, you see,And so is suicide.Just sit back, kick your feet up, dearEnjoy this perfect ride.Get over your own standardsOf what everyone should be.Just smile for once, and maybeYou’ll be living perfectly....But...Depression is an illnessThat we feel so deep within.Why would anybody chooseTo write poetry on their skin?Unless there lies a reason, dear,I would not choose to die.If depression was an option...Well...I’d choose to say goodbye.
Trapped WithinShut up!I don't want to listen anymore.Get out of my head!I can't depend on anyone.There is no way to save me.If it's up to me to make the voices leave,I am powerless.All I can do is try and drown them out with music.I find myself closing up.Isolating.No need to worry anyone.Still,sometimes pain is the only way to tone things down.I really hope things change.Whispers of the sweet release offered by a blade seduce.I can't though.I have reasons not to.I want to be free,but I can't escape myself.People are busy.People are stressed.People are sick.Who am I supposed to talk to?Who could I trust?I can only cry and crank the volume of my music.Sleep would be best,but I can only sleep so much.Go away go away GO AWAY!!!and take my pain with you!I am such an idiot.
HetaliaxDepressed!Reader:Self-Inflicted AchromaticHetalia x Scary! Depressed! Reader: Self-Inflicted AchromaticI want to be a person just like you, don't you see?I want to be a person who is still being "me"A tired sigh escaped your lips. You were just so damn tired. The other countries said that you, (f/n) or (c/n), was scarier than Russia himself. But of course, you have lived 2500 years with wars and bloodshed always trailing after you. You just really want to be happy. But all those wars and blood imprinted on your mind, you really just released off a dark (a/c) aura and a stoic atmosphere.It really would be nice but I'm paying a price'Cause I'd really, not be me and that would not sufficeYou asked yourself, "I know my face doesn't show my pain. But isn't it obvious in my eyes? I'm lonely and hurt" You rubbed your numb (s/c) wrist, yesterday's cuts still had a colorless ache to it. You picked your silver knife, twirling it around watching the others argue. The said knife is the one you also use to cut yourself.A dream which
An Angel's Promise'Thou art mine,And so thou shall remain.'I will not let you have any other before me, Nor can there be any after.For it is your soul that I have shared And it is your soul that I do take.Your worship is the blood that flows through me.Your praise is the heart that pumps life into my veins.I have accepted that which is torn;And if you are not whole before me,Then by my will and word,You shall be made whole.So fear not this frigid world,Though its cold bites deeply into your flesh.I shall take that which has been torn from youAnd weep life into it,Until only warmth remains.For thou art already mine,And so thou shall remain.
For My PeopleAs far as I can recall:I did not ask to be birthedInto a cycle of stagnation.I did not ask to be told,That my dreams are achievable;Only to see them limited by the scope of reality.I did not ask for a failing system,Passed unto me by half-dead corpses wearing suits.Nodding eagerly at one another,As they wait for an inevitable death.This I did not ask for,And I am certain that most of you did not either.But it is for that reason,And for that reason alone, I say:That it is up to us,We siblings bound by the chains of our forefathers,To create a system that is better,Than the bitter shackles of the past.Justice is what I long for.Justice for MY people.
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.