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AliveYou sit up, breathing hard.
Beads of sweat rolls down your face, as you lean forward, tears rushing down your cheeks. Not again.
You take a deep breath, letting yourself calm down.
Where are you again?
Ah, your friends house.
They’re sleeping soundly next to you.
You check their alarm clock; 5:00 A.M.
Grabbing your book, you lay back down to read.
Soon, you’re asleep.
Sunlight? You squinted, shielding your eyes and glancing at the alarm clock.
Your friend is already up, using some ringtone to ensure you stay awake.
You can’t help but laugh.
God, you have amazing friends.
Soon, everyone’s up. People are running around, laughing, smiling-
So are you.
The kids run back and forth, playing tag. They giggle as they tag each other.
You, too, smile. It’s infectious; how could you not?
Cereal, Pancakes, Sausage, Milk-
Ah! So many choices!
You grin as the kids begin to dance around.
It’s going to be a great day.
You’re sitting near the window,
CollegeProfessor!EnglandXCollegeStudent!Reader "It’s an easy A this weekend, everyone. Remember to read five of William Shakespeare’s tragedies this weekend! Thank you! And have a great Valentine’s Day everybody. Class dismissed!!" (Name) snatched up her books, flying out of her chair and into the gaggle of her classmates. Her lips were stretched into a straight line, bright, sparkling (E/C) eyes oddly dull.
Her mind was a million light years away, focused only on getting away from her college, Mr. Arthur Kirkland, she had so mistakenly fallen for. She replayed his voice inside her head; his beautiful English accent, pronouncing every word so clearly that the fog of confusion lifted in AP English.
But those eyes, oh those emerald eyes. She could look into them all day. She practically fainted whenever he looked her way. They pierced her heart and soul, consuming every day of her life. Well, every day of her four year college life. She couldn't te
Nikki is my OC. She is German and has an accent.
I do not own Hetalia or the Characters in any way, shape, or form.
"Class dismissed! Remember to read the first 10 chapters of To Kill A Mockingbird this weekend! Thank you! And have a great Valentines day everybody." Nikki snatched up her books, flying out of her chair and into the gaggle of her classmates. Her lips were stretched into a straight line, bright, sparkling sky blue eyes oddly dull.
Her mind was a million light years away, focused only on getting away from her teacher, Mr. Arthur Kirkland, she had so mistakenly fallen for. She replayed his voice inside her head; his beautiful English accent, pronouncing every word so clearly that the fog of confusion lifted in AP English.
But those eyes, oh those emeral
from under the dome.breathless dreamer,
sleep is but two arm's lengths away,
evading your grasps throughout the tangle
of uneven arms.
your fingers are the tribute --
a puppet to neuronal impulses
designed to protect you from harm --
that you declare war against
with a shot of vodka.
you are rattling your ivory cage
in self-hate & self-defense
as she ebbs & flows in;
like an intoxicated wave
flirting with the shoreline
on a miserable day,
you are drowning in your veins --
the weight of the world
resting solely on your head, your heart
racing against your mind(-
the path is well tread, each
synapse well versed in a
language that's left you blind,
as you self-medicate & nurse your own
in a house that's not
you are the tired bluebird
who trembles at her touch;
the colour on your skin is a
mark of the chains holding you down &
you are a bird of her prey.
actions & thoughts are known & repeated;
she is your worst enemy & your best friend --
she cages you in
but a cage is no
Tearing Apart at the SeamsI look to the sky and see your name
Written on a black ink canvas.
You are a cacophony of stars
Wishing they could touch the earth.
Written on a black ink canvas,
My words scream for release,
Wishing they could touch the earth.
I become something that does not exist.
My words scream for release,
Tearing themselves from my mouth.
I become something that does not exist --
It feels like I’m dissolving into dust.
Tearing themselves from my mouth,
You are a cacophony of stars.
It feels like I’m dissolving into dust;
I look to the sky and see your name.
a sliver of the galaxyto the star girl on the edge of my tongue:
your hair dye is fading; you are a patch work
quilt comprised of sleepless nights and
the world around you romanticizes
the sadness that fills you like a broken well,
but you know they’re wrong --
having a darkness that threatens
to overwhelm you every single moment
isn’t glamorous at all.
you’ve started to trace your skin
with a knife again, itching to press
a little harder, to draw on your body
the only way you know how.
but you won’t.
because that will mean
that you’re just as far gone
as they think you are.
and there’s still a sliver inside of you
that doesn’t want to let go.
--the girl on the other side of your mirror
disenchanted superheroyou are my kryptonite
even though i’m no superman;
i’m just riddled with weakness,
but i must be strong enough
to keep you.
(you are a drug
i can’t put down.
i don’t want to.)
we are standing on a precipice,
and i’m realizing i can’t fly.
(will you jump
on the way down.)
your hand is warm in mine
and i’m not strong enough to let go.
(stay by me.
be my strength,
because i’m not a super hero
and i can’t save you.
a jar of summeryour sky blue eyes
are my alibi:
and your thin lips sigh
as I say goodbye --
you are a firefly
and I am July.
My dear childMy dear child,
Whose smile has become a fake.
You’ve plastered it upon your face,
In hopes to fool the crowd.
My dear child,
Who feels, as if they’re going to break.
You’ve suffered long enough.
So tonight rest your troubled mind with ease.
With no worries, no doubts,
And no one else to please.
SoliloquyI want to write something sunny,
Something bright and full of delight,
But the world keeps spinning faster;
It keeps spinning into the night.
How do I write of butterflies
When all I see are moths?
How do I write of victory
When all I see are sloths?
Looking for the silver lining
Is easier said than done.
They say keep moving forward,
But life weighs a ton.
Doors keep getting closed,
And their keys keep getting lost,
And this just makes me wonder,
What would giving up cost?
My mind tells me it’s not worth it,
My heart declares that isn’t so,
And my soul just keeps on screaming;
It keeps screaming Go! Go! Go!
I’ve tied a knot around my wrist
To remind me of my goal.
I’ve changed all my radio stations
So they sing the songs of the soul.
How could I live with myself
Upon giving up a dream?
How could I think of backing down
When things aren’t what they seem?
So I’ll just keep on going,
Keep looking towards the sun,
For when all of this is over,
I can rej
All They See Is ScarsI want to tell a story,
but this story isn't a fairy tale
and it wont have a happy ending,
because the real ones, well
they never really do.
In high school
I picked up my pen
and I began to write
It existed and it was pure
and it was lovely.
But my rapist rewrote me.
breathing on my neck
and tracing my back with his fingers.
He rewrote me as broken.
He wrote me as a statistic,
as another white girl who got told
that she cried rape for attention.
But that didn't matter because see,
I wanted to tell a story.
A story about family,
about picking each other up
about blood being thicker than water
about how not everyone's home
had to be broken.
But my father rewrote me.
When i picked up my pen
he spoke words to me
that I swear bruised my whole body
and I learned that nothing
was thicker than his alcohol
and my home was already shattered.
But I wanted to tell a story.
so I picked up my pen
to write about god.
A God that could save anybody
And God loved everybody,
which was the onl
FailureI hide behind
A mask of
“She’s so smart”
No, I’m not
I’m a failure, an experiment
I can’t finish what I started
I can’t start what needs
To be finished
Letting everything pile
Higher and higher until
I’m drowning in it
Drowning in the expectations
The unfinished work
The life I’ve chosen
That’s what I’m
Drowning in my own sorrows.
Just in what
Others expect me
Because I can never
Be as perfect as
They want me to be
ReflectionsVal's pursuit led him to the foul beast's domain. The hollowed-out cavern reeked of blood and rancid meat. The dim light he had seen as he charged through the tunnel after the monster could now be identified: torches. Rows of mysteriously lit torches lined the walls of the huge cave. At its center was a substantially large labyrinth of mirrors.
He spotted the beast entering.
He spun his silver broadsword in his hand and hurried in behind it.
His garb was a simple blue and white crusader's leather with thick armored pads and reinforcing steel studs. Lightweight and flexible, but quite effective defense against blunt blows and – in a pinch – the slashing claws of the unholy spawn of the earth. All monster-hunters wore a similar variety in Val's experience. It would serve him well in these close quarters of the mirrored maze.
Right, left, forward, left, right he turned, always catching a glimpse of the beast's tail as he wove his way through the corridors. Every so often he sp
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