I HaveI have cried a thousand tears
I have lived a thousand years
I have walked a thousand miles
I have faked a thousand smiles
I have told a thousand lies
I have breathed a thousand sighs
I have seen a thousand lights
I have fought a thousand fights
I have hurt a hundred hearts
I have played a thousand parts
I have smashed a thousand dreams
I have torn a thousand seams
I have locked a thousand cells
I have endured a thousand hells
SuperstitiousThe mirror cracks when I look at it
It can’t stand to see my face
Do seven years of bad luck
Continue beyond the grave?
MahoganyYou were in the room with us
The burnt leather chairs were empty
With your presence.
I admit that
I smelled you before
I saw you:
The mix of pine
And that faded peppermint
You kept in the sealed crimson bottle.
You caused the tears
To stream down my mother's face
And I had to turn away.
It had been a while
Since our last
I quietly picked at
The small hole in my jeans
Left from our adventure in the woods.
All eyes were on me
But I couldn't understand why.
You were the beautiful one;
They should all be looking to you.
In a feeble attempt to
Avoid eye contact,
I stared at the white daisies
On the windowsill.
They were wilting,
Just like your smile
On the night you left.
That was the first time
I had seen your smile
But just as I thought my heart
A breeze blew through the curtains
And you followed it.
SophomoreIt was the best of times
It was the worst of times
This has never made sense
Charles Dickens is crazy
How can you hate life
Yet love it at the same time?
But that is what this year is all about
Love vs. Hate
Good vs. Evil
Fair vs. Unfair
And the paradox makes so much sense
You work harder than anyone
And steal first chair from its supposed rightful owner
On the first day
And though he hates you
You are so proud of yourself
For a little bit, at least
Until your best is no longer
Never will be
Practicing until your fingers bleed
Singing in your sleep
Never makes you any better
And all you want is approval
And not because you need attention
Just because you want recognition
You'll repair broken friendships
And are no longer abhorred
Love is no longer a game
It is real
And is, in fact, the only thing you can hold on to
Other friends will break you
But you are no longer alone
Meals become harder and harder to skip
As your body turns against you
Confessions of a Teenage VirginI remember the summer before 9th grade when my best friend finally admitted to me that she was having sex with her boyfriend. She had always been way more sexually experienced than I was. I had never had a boyfriend, feeling I was too young and could be focusing my attention on more important things. She had had more boyfriends than either of us could count and had been giving me mini sex ed classes since 7th grade.
I was shocked. They had been dating only a month or two and had never even been on a real date. I had paid attention in health class, as I did every class, and thus felt extremely informed on birth control. She claimed they used condoms, but I still lectured her that condoms were only eighty-something percent effective; they could break or be put on incorrectly. My lecturing made her extremely angry at me. She told me that the data was outdated and she was completely safe and she of course knew more than I did because she was the one having sex in the first place.
I had rea
As a GirlAs a girl
I want the same respect
The acknowledgment of my intelligence
As a girl
I want to not be
Afraid to be alone at night
As a girl
I want to crawl inside my body
Rip out all the extra ribs
Dispose of all the fat
Yank together the sides of my waist
So they touch
As a girl
I want to burn every magazine
Rip the perfect hair out of every model
Vandalize every billboard
That I can’t take my eyes off of
As a girl
I want my boobs to be smaller
My stomach to be flatter
My skin to be tanner
My legs to be skinnier
My eyebrows to be thinner
My teeth to be whiter
As a girl
I want to eat everything
Not work out
Lie around all day
As a human
I want to be noticed
I want to be praised
I want to be perfect
I want to be loved
Limited OmniscientYou got straight A’s this semester?
Of course you did.
How did she
How did he
How did anyeverybody do?
You’re fifth in your class?
You call yourself a perfectionist?
A true perfectionist would be number one
But we will feign pride
By taping your report card to the fridge
Because your therapist asked very nicely
And we want company to see
There is physical evidence
That we are Good Parents
You ate that for dinner?
You should eat healthier
You should eat less
You should just stop eating.
Why are you not a doctor
Let me correct your grammar
Let me write that for you.
Because I was an Editor
Before I was a Mother
You’re continuing music, right?
You are not good enough to major in it
Have a career in it
Find successhappinesssolace in it
Remember when you got two perfect scores?
Where’s the third?
You got a ‘B’?
You got a
You a secret.
I’m pretty sure
Something is wrong with
Because while everyone else is out
I am at home working
I am going to
Get a good grade
Get into college
Get my life in shape.
I get ridiculed for
Striving for a better future
Beyond AbeyanceI used to write of darkness.
Of a place so hollow and apathetic,
And my insignificant place inside it.
But silence was deafening,
along with solitude savage.
I suffocated on thoughts of oblivion.
And I floated there.
my realm of
It wasn’t until I closed my eyes,
That I dreamed of COLOR.
C r e a t i o n f l o o d e d m y l u n g s,
And jump started my blood flow.
I was given all the universe
.........Of which to shape into something b e a u t i f u l..........
S o I g a v e l i f e.
I t o o k c o n t
Don't Scream It's late. You're tired from a long day and decide to sleep; rest your mind. You change into something comfortable and slip into your bed. Of course, you don't check under the bed or in your closet. Monsters aren't real; they haven't been since you were younger.
Your eyes begin to close, slowly but surely, as you drift to sleep. Every internal guard you may have built around your mind is retracting; everything you want kept out is silently creeping in as well as anything you want kept in is gradually oozing out. Your wonders, fears, hopes, despairs, displayed. You're vulnerable. Subconsciously realizing this, you wrap yourself in the blanket, hoping for some kind of protection. It won't help though.
Your breathing continues at a steady pace, slightly faster than your breathing when awake. You shift in preparation of the long hours ahead. Silence.
Your mind, still slightly aware, registers the light tapping at the window as a branch blown by the wind. The qui
Undo myselfI cut my hair.
It was the only way I knew how to physically rid myself of him.
I cut the strands that he had pulled his fingers through. I cut the soft locks that he had spent hours helping me sort out. I cut the hair that he had so persistently encouraged me to grow longer.
The first few days were the hardest.
It was empty. I didn't know what to do with my hands, now that I didn't have something to constantly tug at. My neck was constantly cold from the sudden exposure. And I was naked. I didn't have anything to hide behind. It was just me and my raw lonesomeness against the world.
Then the first few weeks had been the hardest.
I had spent years constantly altering myself to please another. I had forgotten how to be myself. It had taken time, considerably longer than just a few weeks, to unravel myself. To figure out which parts of me was my own and which were his. Cutting my hair had been the first step on that journey.
I had spent, as long as I can remember actually, trying to be ob
Professor layton werewolf one shotLayton sat alone in a stone walled room while writing and trying to calm himself with tea. His room was designed like a cell to keep some big wild animal inside; what with its big steel door (which had a very small slidable cover that reveals a small window) and barred windows; but yet it had a large comfy bed, a dresser with a mirror, a desk (which he was using at the moment), a tall standing mirror, and a clean bathroom with a shower and everything. In his opinion, he found this contrast eerie. He was in the big, highest part of this strangely designed hotel. It was some far away from the town they were visiting. Outside his window, he could see the overview of the town and the setting sun.
Layton was actually locked inside, away from Luke and Flora (who were a few floors way from him), just in case if he does somehow…transform.
This was all happening because of last night. Layton and his apprentice Luke were investigating while Flora stayed inside the safety of their hotel
Rescue TeamShe called me because I lived right downstairs. She called me because she knew I wouldn’t call her parents. She called me because she hadn’t called in three months, and she knew that if she called me, crying, blubbering, watering the receiver with her tears and blood, I would come running anyway.
She was hunched up on the kitchen floor, her arms wrapped around her legs, her eyelashes wrapped around her bloodshot eyes. She looked up at me as I dropped the key I had never given back into my pocket. Her feet and hands were bloodied and full of cuts.
She said nothing as I crunched my way over the broken glass to her and hunched down, balancing on the balls of my feet. She looked down.
“What did you do?” I asked, looking around the messy kitchen, filled with shards of glass and broken plates. I noticed she was holding the phone in one hand and a champagne glass in the other. The only intact one left, I observed from my place facing the open cupboards and empty sh
Don't Mourn For MeShe was in my bed, where she had been for the past few days. Despite pleas from everyone, she refused to go anywhere else.
I watched her sob her heart away and I almost wished I hadn’t done it. Seeing her there with so much anguish carved into her lovely face, it almost made me regret my choice, almost.
In the end, it had been worth it. The pain and the sorrow were all gone.
“Stop mourning for me,” I begged as I sat beside her, bed remaining the same under my transcendental body. She had to let go and move on.
She sobbed violently and pressed my pillow into her face, no doubt trying to breath in what little of my scent remained.
“It hurts too much,” she said through choked breaths. “Sometimes it feels like you’re still here,” she quietly added as her sobs began to subside. It seemed like that thought brought her comfort.
“I know sweetie but you have to move on,” I told her in a gentle voice. “It’s not your f
He's not dangerous : werewolf professor LaytonHe’s not dangerous
He did not react quickly enough; he tried to start making his way downhill but they released their arrows and he felt them pierce into his back, letting out a loud cry of pain. He was momentarily stunned and stumbled a bit. Another arrow suddenly struck him in his right thigh. Startled, he let out a pained yelp and lost his balance, tumbling down the rocky ravine.
He was rolling for a while, hitting some large rocks along the way down; some of the arrows were pushed painfully deeper into his skin and he heard one of them snap. He finally came to a slow stop as he rolled into a small shallow pond at the bottom.
He lay motionless for a few seconds when his senses came back; water was flowing into his nose, forcing his injured body to sit up. He shook his head, snorted and coughed up some water. He then dragged himself out of the pound; he had to keep moving; but he was so worn out from rolling down the ravine.
FrostHe looked timidly down the street. It was, like the ten previous times he’d checked, empty. Devoid of any and all human life.
But not empty, no. There were the bodies remaining still. No one had come to clean them up- or more likely, those who came had perished too, contributing generously to the rising pile.
He kept walking, stepping over silent faces, over mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters. Over all the faces of the innocents smited in the greens and yellows of life.
The City had died, that much was visible from a glance. Bodies were strewn over streets, park benches, in libraries and coffee shops, in cars and buses and skyscrapers and apartments. But the decay hadn’t set in yet, oh no. The butchery had ended, but the processing hadn’t yet begun. The ungodly stench was only just starting to leak out into the crisp air.
And the frost was everywhere. The white frost, they had called it. The frost that didn’t melt. Come from the sky to punish you, free
The Siren's SongThree Angels marooned on an island
Feathers clipped, all flight grounded.
Lonely and longing they sing
A mournful song
To the ship on the sea.
The men entranced by the beauty
Of the song of the sirens
They steer the ship to the island.
Lonely and longing they follow
To the reef by the beach.
The sirens they sang
With all their might
To the men longing.
The beauty of their faces
Was too much to bear.
The ship caught the reef
And sunk to the bottom of the sea.
The sirens sang, the men swam to the shore
Only to be devoured, cast away on the bone littered beach.
The anger overwhelmed me.
The horror of the three Angels,
And their mournful song.
To lure men to their deaths
By their beauty.
So I went to the island
The wrath of the sea behind me,
And when they sang to me.
I felt nothing,
And I was determined to defeat them.
One sister, young in life
Smiled at me,
And my heart melted.
She sang her song of longing,
And danced the dance of life.
The other sisters jealous in rage
Tried to take me
NightmareI had a dream last night.
There was fear in that dream. I remember feeling weighed down by the terror. I remember feeling eyes watching me from everywhere; feeling that they - whoever they were - were just waiting for me to slip up and make a mistake, to chase after me and capture me. I don't know what I did. I don't know where I was. It was a world where things had gone terribly wrong, and the metallic smell of fear and oppression and blood filled the air. That much I knew, and I knew I was in danger.
But there was a woman, and though she was afraid she was kind to me. She sheltered me; said that I was kin, that I was part of her family. She said that to a group of uniformed men who had come knocking at her door - terrible, terrible men with cruel faces and sleek rifles by their sides. I was terrified, and I'm sure she was terrified as well, but the men took her for her word and left.
They left, and they brought the woman's son with them. The boy couldn't have been older than twelve.
Number One Apprentice - Randall AscotLuke sat on one of the many benches that littered the museum, watching his own feet as he swished them back and forth in a vague attempt to keep himself amused. Sadly, nothing could detract from the fact that he was very bored right now.
It wasn't that he had to come to these talks very often, as usually his dad would leave him at home, but sometimes his mum would be away and there'd be no one to look after him, so he'd have to come. Which is what had happened today.
He didn't understand why his dad was still so obsessed with listening to famous archaeologists blather on about what new facts they'd discovered after looking at some fossil that someone else had dug up a decade or more ago. Clark was the mayor of a town now, not an archaeologist. But apparently he'd been one of the best students in his year when he was at college and still wanted to show a keen interest.
This was an interest that Luke did not share. Having been to this museum so many times that he practically knew every e
You Are BeautifulYou Are Beautiful
To the girl who cuts herself to bleed away the pain,
To the girl who starves herself because she isn’t “skinny enough”.
To the boy who takes drugs to “fit in” with the jock,
To the boy who is bullied for reading his books, rather than play boy magazines,
To the girl who believes she must strip down to nothing to get the love and compassion she yearns for.
To the man who feels like a failure for the lack of money he holds,
To the women who feels out of style for not having the newest trends,
To the teens sniffing drugs because it makes them a part of the “in crowd”,
To the teens who sits alone, because they have no crowd.
To the boy holding the pills in his hand to end his life,
To the girl with the fabric belt around her neck, feeling like she is worthless,
To the man who looks at his life in shame,
To the woman who looks at her life in despair,
To the one who is persecuted for their beliefs,
To the one who is persecuted for t
SpeechlessHow the hell can I make
See that everything you say
Everything you do
And although I’m not perfect
And I am trying
To find some sense of
But you’re making it
Pretty damn difficult
And I realize there’s
I can say to get through to you
Because nothing has worked yet
And all I want is
But you have taken that
All away from
You had fantastic use of enjambment and white space here! It was very crafty to create a sentence along the side and still have the words correspond with the ending lines of the stanzas. It’s a very thoughtful and crafty method.
One thing that could make the language in the poem a little more interesting would be to switch up your words a little bit, especially in the end. Repeating the word feel does get a point across, but a little more variation to the words you used could be interesting. Perhaps something like experience love, feel important, and so on.
Nevertheless, keep up the good work!