I wish you were a king, so I could be your knight.
I'd swear my loyalty, win your battles, and fight your fight.
I wish you were in danger, so I could be your shield.
I'd take the bullet, block the sword, and never ever yield.
I wish you needed something, anything, that I could ever give.
My life is yours, but you've no need, and you are my reason to live.
You have a thousand hearts, and you don't need mine, so broken and useless and cold.
I am not funny or pretty or smart, not kind or brave or bold.
Still I have a life, that's something, should you ever have use for it,
so I will keep breathing, and hope, one day, I could have something
I see you; I do.
I know that you are there.
Out the corner of my eye, in the corner of the room
motionless, you stand and stare.
You're making me uncomfortable, you know?
Would it be so hard to maybe move?
Or at least not disappear when I look straight at you?
And staring is rude; I disapprove.
Maybe we could talk, now
If you're up to it, I mean.
I'm kind of lonely, anyhow,
and there's no one else here; you won't be seen.
I wish that you'd speak.
Just say, do something, anything.
If you just stand there, it makes me think maybe you're not real.
That one will study Vogue.
This one will study the Bible.
That one will diet.
This one will fast.
She'll wear her diamonds,
while she wears her cross.
She'll go to the mall,
and she'll go to Church.
She dreams of being famous,
and she hopes only one name will be known.
They both wil die
Both their bodies will rot,
but their souls will not.
I never really played pretend
At least not consciously
As far as I was ever concerned, all I believed happened
Even if the monsters were ones I couldn't see
I knew, know they were there
or why would I be afraid of something that couldn't touch me
And what of those friends, so brave, so fair
of course they did, and still do, exist
or else for them I wouldn't care
They had, have to be real.
This one does meth and crack and pot
That one put a gun to his head and shot
He takes to the razor once a week and cuts
Every day she makes herself puke her guts
Not me, not me
I'm not so brave or inconsiderate
and I find the human body a bit repulsive anyways
No, I'd never get close enough to myself to harm me
Instead, I will hide in my head when I attack
My razors are thoughts, my gun, insecurity
My drug is pain, same as the rest
And hopefully, my only victim is me
But if not, well, guilt's pain, too.
The room was filled with sound of beats, constant, overpowering some melody trying to sound over it, and the smell of beer, also constant, also overpowering. Lauren sat by the bar with a glass of grape fanta and tried to keep an eye on her friends. Rachel was dancing, body pulsing with the beat. Helen was stumbling towards the bathroom. Sophie was chatting up some guy. They were all drunk. It was nine PM. The club would probably close at two. They would probably leave around one. That meant four hours of sitting there, trying not to let the smell of cheap beer and sweat make her dry-heave and warding off unwanted men like the uncoordinate
A cup of tea
delicate china with little blue flowers
and softened with sugar and cream
A little boy
well-dressed and spoken
intelligent and polite
but appearances are not everything.
He was constantly spacing out, recently. Always lost in his thoughts, exploring that beautiful world that was his mind, yellow-green eyes searching for something that certainly couldn't be found in the empty space in front of him. She loved to look at his eyes. Even when the emotions they expressed were the result of some imagined experience she didn't know, they inspired her, her own nebulae birthing stars, the only stars she ever came up with really. She'd never played or composed anything beautiful until she'd looked him in the eyes. They, he, inspired her, made her feel able to change, to grow. Not just his eyes, of course, his walk,
I guess I should have guessed
I'd end up in this mess.
The rain was all imaginary,
but the clear sky never comforted me,
and now the dawn is breaking,
breaking me away,
and I can't help but shaking
for fear of the day.
The morning ripped me apart,
and I awoke to find my heart
was sore from too long spent
in the passive tense with its own verb,
and all the time was only lent,
and now the debt must be returned.
I long for one more night,
a reprieve from the light,
but no, the sun is high now
and I must also rise.
I only wish I knew how,
but I feel I'll be told naught but lies.
Of course, I should learn to trust,
lest lone
I wish you were a king, so I could be your knight.
I'd swear my loyalty, win your battles, and fight your fight.
I wish you were in danger, so I could be your shield.
I'd take the bullet, block the sword, and never ever yield.
I wish you needed something, anything, that I could ever give.
My life is yours, but you've no need, and you are my reason to live.
You have a thousand hearts, and you don't need mine, so broken and useless and cold.
I am not funny or pretty or smart, not kind or brave or bold.
Still I have a life, that's something, should you ever have use for it,
so I will keep breathing, and hope, one day, I could have something
I see you; I do.
I know that you are there.
Out the corner of my eye, in the corner of the room
motionless, you stand and stare.
You're making me uncomfortable, you know?
Would it be so hard to maybe move?
Or at least not disappear when I look straight at you?
And staring is rude; I disapprove.
Maybe we could talk, now
If you're up to it, I mean.
I'm kind of lonely, anyhow,
and there's no one else here; you won't be seen.
I wish that you'd speak.
Just say, do something, anything.
If you just stand there, it makes me think maybe you're not real.
I guess I should have guessed
I'd end up in this mess.
The rain was all imaginary,
but the clear sky never comforted me,
and now the dawn is breaking,
breaking me away,
and I can't help but shaking
for fear of the day.
The morning ripped me apart,
and I awoke to find my heart
was sore from too long spent
in the passive tense with its own verb,
and all the time was only lent,
and now the debt must be returned.
I long for one more night,
a reprieve from the light,
but no, the sun is high now
and I must also rise.
I only wish I knew how,
but I feel I'll be told naught but lies.
Of course, I should learn to trust,
lest lone
It starts off green and not yet ripe
growing in the attic,
so before I can start to type
I must preform a trick.
I keep it locked up without air,
and let it ferment long.
It's not yet ready to be shared,
some notes, but not a song,
but then the flavor changes.
The sweet becomes mature.
The extent always ranges,
but the effect is always sure.
Transparent pinks and baby blues
darken into gold.
These newer, better, brighter hues
unlock my secrets yet untold.
Then I pour my glass of wine
and hope that somehow it will shine.
It was a lovely shade, I think.
Narcissus would agree.
Often bright so one would have to blink.
Even more so soft like wind near the sea.
Yet, somewhere, somehow, I grew afraid.
I picked up a brush and a bucket.
I painted over a new shade.
I painted until it covered it.
First it was bright
sweet and happy and maybe pink.
I kept the outside nice and light,
but then the inside began to sink.
So then I tried to paint it grey.
Grey for strength and logic,
but over certain things no one has say,
and grey overcame me quick.
So I struggled along searching for a hue
Something exactly right.
No more fake jades or artificial blues.
B
I could hurt you.
I know how to.
I could make you cry.
I know the effects of pretty poisons,
of venomous questions,
of subtle, honeyed lies.
I could cut secretly.
I could strike softly.
You won't really know you're hit.
But in the night
the words will bite
with the power of misused wit.
I know know how to gild my words.
I can make vultures sound like songbirds,
but there's insult underneath.
I know all the things to ask.
I can guess the secrets you mask.
I can attack with smiling teeth.
I can make an insult pretty.
I can turn condemnation to honesty.
I can make spite seem harmless.
I know how to cause you pain
I know how
I tried to write of knights and heroes,
but he, no lover of light, killed them as they were dreamed,
and my stillborn words fell limp from my pen,
never to breathe or bleed or touch.
He dwells in the stagnant waters hidden in my mind,
the places I never stir for fear of what I may rouse.
There he feasts on the aborted flesh of good deeds I never did,
love I never gave, innocence I once had
and plants in their places the worst of me.
He has the eyes of the Erl-King
and the voice of a stranger I met one dark night,
the hands of a thief, the lips of a liar, the arms of a murderer,
the mind of a sinner, and a heart made of frozen guil
I heard he that hurt you,
and your tears tell me it's true.
It's quite alright to cry.
Sometimes, no matter how you try
the pain just gets too bad,
and tears are all you have.
Just remember
Behind all these clouds there's still the sun,
and with all the boys in the world he's not the only one.
Keep trying, and you'll be okay.
All this pain will fade away,
and then don't be afraid to fall
because a broken heart's better than none at all.
Oh, love, you look so sad.
She must have really hurt you bad.
It's so cruel to break such a good heart.
It's such a harsh crime on her part.
Please don't worry; your heart will mend
even thou
Little Red
So you think you know the story of Little Red;
Did you know she carried an axe underneath the gingerbread,
Tucked away in her basket?
Poor little wolf, he never knew
Just what he was getting into.
Unwittingly he followed her into his casket.
Do you know Granny was not at home?
Sweet Little Red was all alone;
Of course she'd misbehave.
Doing things girls shouldn't do,
Tricking young men and wolf pups too;
Luring them into their graves.
I tried to write of knights and heroes,
but he, no lover of light, killed them as they were dreamed,
and my stillborn words fell limp from my pen,
never to breathe or bleed or touch.
He dwells in the stagnant waters hidden in my mind,
the places I never stir for fear of what I may rouse.
There he feasts on the aborted flesh of good deeds I never did,
love I never gave, innocence I once had
and plants in their places the worst of me.
He has the eyes of the Erl-King
and the voice of a stranger I met one dark night,
the hands of a thief, the lips of a liar, the arms of a murderer,
the mind of a sinner, and a heart made of frozen guil
Current Residence: United States of America!!! Favourite genre of music: Idk... Country? Classical? Alternative? MP3 player of choice: ipod touch? Favourite cartoon character: Rhino the Hamster (he's also part wolverine)
Favourite Movies
I have a kot of favorite movies
Favourite TV Shows
Sherlock or Psych
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Probably Ludo... But I also like George Strait and Chopin...
Favourite Books
East of Eden
Favourite Writers
That's hard! umm... Victor Hugo or Agatha Christie, I think.
Recently, I've been having a lot of horrifying dreams and nightmares. The horrifying dreams are freaky, and once I wake-up i realize it, but while I'm dreaming them they don't bother me. The nightmares are usually pretty innocuous, but while I sleep I'm terrified and sad, and when I wake the feeling lingers. Last night was not as bad as usual. I dreamed I was watching a movie in which a man and his wife slowly disappeared until all that was left was there tongues. It turned out an alien was doing it, and there was no way they could have escaped.
College essays. They're painful. Like this Debussy I'm trying to play (and failing beautifully if I may say so myself). That's about it.
In other news, oh my goodness, George Blagden is adorable. He played Grantaire (<3 <3 <3 ) in Les Mis, which is my favorite thing ever, not the 2012 movie which is what he's in and is okay I guess, just the musical in general and the book. Saw the tenth anniversary when I was a little one. Have loved it ever since. Only really started to love R after reading the book in Middle School, though. Anyways, despite not being "inordinately homely" (or an alternate translation with the same gist) as the b
I hope everyone had a great day! I did! I got everything I asked for (an old-fashioned metronome [The company my mom bought mine from has been making metronomes since 1895!!!!! :D], all of the scores from the Harry Potter movies for piano, one of those 3-D building puzzles [Mine looks like Big Ben!], and a violin! Yes! I got a violin!!! Now to learn how to play it... To youtube!!!! I also got a bunch of gift cards (I think I have at least $100 to Barnes and Nobles. Do I really read that much? lol I know I do), some chocolate, a new charm for my charm bracelet, and bracelet my Grandma made, various small objects in my stocking, and a magnetic