things I never told you. by littleblueraccoon, literature
Literature
things I never told you.
some poems feel like water.
this one is more like sand,
and I'm suffocating in the maw
of a desert that was better left
rusting its clairvoyance.
it started one night when I remembered
that I've kept everything you've ever given me:
roses, faces, promises.
I never really understood
how to let things go,
and when the thought of
turning the things you'd touched
away from my doorstep
choked the poetry from my throat,
I realized why.
I keep reminding myself that
I should probably be nicer to you,
but I think you already know
that I'm only capable of being nice
when I'm cornered and out of ideas.
and despite what you claim,
you've never been
No matter how you think it will end -
- Start your day with a smile.
Be nice - even if it hurts.
Think fast, talk slow.
Dance like nobody's watching.
Give the things you love 99%
- And save that other 1% for the things you hate...
Dress to make yourself happy.
Enjoy yourself, but accept the consequences.
Read something every day.
Try to remember the joys of sending and recieving letters.
Aim high - dream for the top.
Watch movies that make you cry.
Listen to music that makes you smile.
Play in the mud every once in a while.
Look at the world a little differently every day.
Breathe deep after the rain.
Slow down to smell your
The true hero is not found
In the numbers of those slaughtered
The true hero is not he
Who kills senselessly
It matters not whether for life, country, or sanity
With wisdom, brutality, or resignation
No, the true hero is one
Who stands vigil at the forefront
Of his dying, sinking ship
Not fleeing, not running
To the comfort of life
He stands stoically
Now and forevermore
While beasts rise around him
And men fall beneath him
He stands to die
And nothing else
He sacrifices it all
When no one else is willing
Defending them all
By simply standing in place
He knows Death intimately
They are old comrades
Brushing arms occasio
The gentleman and the nameless one by GhostOfTheEmptyGrave, literature
Literature
The gentleman and the nameless one
During the calm night
Along a silent street
A nameless man walks
His path with no destiny
Lost in trivial thoughts
When he runs into a shadowy figure
Out of thin air he appeared
Dressed in black and red
Looking like a gentleman
Distinct and high class
Human to the eye
Eerie to the spirit
His voice deep and pleasant
His manners appealing
He spoke to the nameless man
Words of fortune and power
Offering him a deal
One he couldn't refuse
When asked by the nameless one
About what was he selling
He smiled brightly
Telling he was no salesman
For his interests
Were the ones of a buyer
The man's soul
Was what he sought
No matter the price
He could
April 24, 2006 Ver. 1
Recording of a Sinner
Please, make a record of this. It will explain everything. -M.J. Redfield.
The words jumped off the note attached to the small beaten box that had been left on my desk. I looked around my office to see if I could find the person who left it there, but was unable to find anyone around so late at night.
I am a recorder, meaning that I take recordings from interviews or tapes from cameras and write down what is said for the sake of written record for quick references for the police department. I had just finished my last written report when I saw the box on my desk. I usually
Why i faved your piece? It was very well written and very lively in my opinion.I found it intriguing and it made me think how differently people "see" things from one another.
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