Promises are mostly lies to please...
Crimson Vengeance for CreepieMonetThe light browns of the Morrocan village once stirred the villagers' hearts; they loved their small town, they loved knowing everyone who lived nearby, but that had all changed
One night was all it took to rip out the peace and replace it with terror; one night of bloodlust flowing through the town; grown men were reduced to their knees; respected elders were reduced to the common rabble. Everyone in Asilah fell to the very ground they made their livelihoods on, and all because one man chose one town to run down.
Children and elderly rushed about the streets, seeking hiding places. Women and wives carried buckets of water to burning huts. Grown men planned an offensive, but nothing they did would work; they faced a mad man; a man who had lost all hope for his world, and instead turned to murder; he turned to rape. Any young girl that crossed his path became violated; a baker's daughter fell to her knees in front of the man; her hair a mess and her face splattered faintly in blood
Commission: Spoils of a Treasure HunterThe pizzeria had the finest take on synthesising the perfect Supreme pizza; the capsicum sat atop a bed of thinly sliced ham, and the pineapple rested in amongst the olive fragments. Øyvind Herstad considered it a marvelous indulgence; the perfect requisite for his next great treasure hunt with his delectably gorgeous companions Kaitlyn and Kara Walker.
"Ah yes girls" He spoke intelligently, although not so much the words, as the way he portrayed them across the thin, cool air "Another heist completed, another trophy to add to your walls. It is time however, for us to begin again. I've heard rumour of a treasure crypt in Greece; rumours tell of great fortune befitting a conquering knight. This is where we will head to next."
Kara smiled and glanced around the room, her long brown and white striped hair flowing over her shoulders. The drink in her hand remained still and unnerved as she examined the pizzeria.
"I've heard of this crypt" she spoke quietly, "I've heard t
The Truth Is Hard"Like a rock" she said,
Eyes glinting in the sun,
Shining in their purity,
Blink; then continue;
"Like a brick; like a bone,
Like the urge of a soldier,
trying to go home".
"Like the pain of what was,
And what is still to come"
In grief, she bowed her head;
With grief she became numb.
"You see, I lost the one I loved;
I don't know what to do,
I told him that I would change,
He said "It's me, it isn't you."
"Yet overtime I came to learn,
That what he said was false"
With tears she fell onto the ground,
Filled with dread and dark remorse.
"I would rather have lived with his lies,
Than to know what I learned today,
Because "It's not you" was a lie,
Just like my "I'm okay"".
"The truth is hard" I said to her,
And reassured her thus;
"But although he didn't count on it,
We're not you, we're us"
"We'll stick together; I'll help you through,
Get you back onto your feet;
You're not a victim; you're victorious,
And he, we will defeat."
Waiting Silently in a Tattered Rocking ChairSilence.
She sat in complete silence.
Outside the dull, grey walls of her twelfth-story apartment, the world moved endlessly, noisily.
But to her, there was silence. Complete silence.
A ceiling fan rotated slowly above her; a fly lay dead on the window sill beside her; the festering corpse of a mouse lay putridly on the carpet in the corner of the hot, humid room across from her.
Yet, she sat in silence.
The window was home to a single potted plant; a small green sapling growing hesitantly out into the ever-putrid air of the apartment. It's dish had long-since cracked in the heat, and rot where the water leaks through had slowly begun to develop.
A child's watering can, no bigger than her palm, rested - a faded red - on a table beside the window. The plastic bubbled in the heat; large bulbous growths protruded from its surface.
The spout rarely let out more than a few drops nowadays.
Back in its days - back when old Mrs. Adalai was young - the pot plant was large and vibrant. The apart
Odyssey into 2012 Chapter 1The glare of the first gate blinds her momentarily; her memories flooded with a luminescence overpowering. She can't remember who she is, or why she's here.
She is oblivious to herself and the world around her; all she knows is the gate and the surrounding darkness. Hesitantly, she steps through, and is blinded again by a bright white glare.
Slowly the glare dies down as her eyes adjust. She can see clearly now; both the gate and her memory. She had traveled a long way to be here, to open this gate. She had travelled across the galaxy in the blink of an eye, she had opened a portal through time and space, and she had climbed through it. A portal in her mind, and it was such a portal that she could grant herself this omnipresence.
Her people were the Skylarks, and they knew her as a Gatekeeper; they recognised her unique abilities as mirroring those of the ancients. She was the remnant of a past long forgotten
She arrived in a city overrun by smog and giant grey buildings. "Is thi
Almost in ComatoseYou wake.
Head swimming, eyes glazed over,
Throat red and swollen.
You throw a leg,
Misjudging the distance,
Between bed and floor.
Heavily onto the tatty carpet,
Unfocused eyes misguiding you.
Your body folds upwards,
Hands and feet together,
Ass in the air.
You can't get a grip,
You fall again.
This time you stay there,
You poor, poor baby.
How To Fit InHow to Fit In
Let’s start off with your appearance.
Because you need a disguise to hide
Inside of a crowd.
Strip yourself of all of the clothing you use to express yourself.
So you can get lost,
And never be found.
Fix your hair,
Cake on some make up
Because in a crowd.
Looks will always speak louder than words.
People don’t want to hear what you have to say,
They just want to see a pretty face.
Fix your eyes that are too big.
You have too many ideas.
They rage around inside your head,
Like birds trying to escape a cage.
But never write those ideas down on a page.
Is a sin.
When you’re trying to fit in.
Just let them fly away.
Never to be seen again.
Now that you’re vapid,
Dull as a rock.
Not an original thought to be seen.
Yes, you’ve achieved
But was it actually worth it?
Trading in everything that makes you so spectacular.
To fit in with the rest of the main stream crowd.
Stop trying to
Only your body.
To what matters
Only to what has value to him.
Your marvelous self
radiancei am running
on blood and light
fluttering firefly chasms
in spaces once
i spit silver silences
that colour quickfire
a vivid fragility
i'm not faded;
The Girl Who Was Afraid To BeShe speaks to me fondly
of passions and talents,
of guitars and stars,
with such breathless intensity
then stops short and
for speaking at all.
All because somewhere in her life,
someone she loved broke her heart
her beautiful words
and telling her to
keep it down,
People aren’t born sad.
We make them that way.
A Letter To The Girl Who Hates Her BodyA letter to the girl who hates her body.
A letter to that girl
Who scrolls through tumblr.
Admiring all of those models.
With thigh gaps that look cute with skirts.
And a waist that you can barely see.
A letter to the girl
Who looks at models,
For their curves.
The way their hips go outwards
And their size D cup breasts.
Please don't look in the mirror,
And hate the girl you see.
That girl is you
And she should be loved unconditionally.
Because you deserve love.
And how much love is not determined on your waist size,
Whether you're chubby or skinny
You're still so very pretty.
You're so perfect.
So for every time you look in that mirror.
And tell yourself you aren't worth it.
That you're arms are too big,
Your hips aren't big enough.
I am a woman.
I am strong.
I have a body like a castle.
A kingdom made just for me.
And I will not destroy that castle,
By trying to starve myself.
By taking brick by brick and dismantling it
Dreaming Keeps the Dreamer SaneTo the dreamer.
The one who sits and stares into corners of the class room.
Dreaming of some place better.
Whether that place is real or not.
It is just anywhere other than here.
We paint over the whites of the walls.
Our minds are the paint and our eyes are the brushes.
Turning ordinary objects into castles that stand 30 feet tall.
And people into characters for our plays,
That fill our imaginative brains.
We tune out the lectures out of boredom or from wanting to escape.
We turn the blank of our note book's page
Into a mess of jumbled words of a song.
That we once heard as a conversation in a coffee shop,
It sounded like a soft tune then, just filling the silence
With soft mumbles and whispers,
Of a stranger's life that we heard bits and pieces of.
We create symphonies out of the rain
As the thunder rolls in the distance.
We turn the noise into music in our brains.
Something to distract us from the pain,
Because in the end,
Dreaming keeps the dreamer sane.
You Can't Compare PainAny pain is valid.
Some pain might be stronger than others,
And might be there for more tragic reasons.
But don't tell someone to be tougher.
Because someone else has it rougher than them.
The person you're saying that to
While the stuff they're going through
Might not be as bad as stuff others are.
It is still pain.
And pain hurts no matter what type of rain
Whether a drizzle or a downpour.
You're still going to feel the ice cold water pellets
On your skin.
I've heard someone say,
That you can't be depressed because you have a roof over you head.
And while I am very, very sorry that some can't say the same.
You should be ashamed
For saying such a thing.
Pain is not something that can be ranked,
It is not something you can compare.
We all still feel depression and despair.
Because we're all humans with emotions
Everyone gets sad.
So don't go and make someone feel bad
For feeling a certain way.
That's So Gay"That's so gay,"
Is what you say,
You've pushed one
Of your friends away.
"Oh no, honey,
Boys don't play
With Barbie dolls."
By enforcing gender roles,
You are killing
And telling them
That you'll love them no matter what*
Don't push your loved ones
With things you do or say,
Because words hurt;
But they hurt most
From the mouths of
The people that told you,
They'd always love you.
Saying, "that's so gay",
Or making them behave
In a gendered way,
Is telling them
That it's not okay
To be something
They can't help.
(And even if they could,
And it will hurt them
And every time you're together,
They'll be wondering;
"Am I wrong?"
"Do I really belong?"
Every time you say something like,
"That's so gay",
You burn someone's trust away.
And you can't build anything back