Daddy dearest, look at me.
When you do, what do you see?
Your four-year-old daughter, possibly?
Maybe you even see Mommy.
One thing's for sure, you don't see me,
All grown up at seventeen,
An adult already...didn't want to be.
But then, the last time I was a real kid was when I was three.
That was before you hurt my mommy,
Before you hit her, choked her, and made her bleed.
Before you hit her head off the porch and I had to see.
Before you taught me that life's not fair and will never be.
Now when I see you, I smile through gritted teeth.
I am an actress like none that has ever been.
You fall for it, and you decide you know me.
You're back in
Out There Waiting by IAmFandomHearMeRoar, literature
Literature
Out There Waiting
Sitting there alone, I wondered,
"Is anybody out there, anywhere?"
In the storm I heard the thunder,
Caught in the rain I stopped and stared.
"Someone's out there waiting,
slipping just beyond my grasp.
Help me out, I'm fading.
Help me out, I'm fading fast."
I looked down into a puddle,
Saw my reflection looking back at me.
Raindrops twisting her face, causing her fall from grace,
'Til what was left just wasn't me.
I lifted my foot and brought it down,
The impostor splashed away.
My body laughed without a sound
As I turned my back and walked away.
Someone's out there waiting,
Slipping just beyond my grasp.
Help me out, I'm fading.
Help me
Not My Kind of Fairy Tale by Akela-Nakamura, literature
Literature
Not My Kind of Fairy Tale
Don't give me the Knight
Whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the Knight,
Whose armor is dull and broken.
Whose horse is weary,
Whose heart is heavy.
Give me the Knight who looks at the dragon with pity,
For that dragon has done nothing,
And is just as imprisoned as the princess he guards.
Don't give me a princess who only wishes to be saved,
By that Knight whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the princess who wishes to escape yes,
But wants to free the dragon,
Who does not wish to marry her savior--
Nay, give me the princess who wants to explore,
Who wants to live and to learn.
For the years of imprisonment only made her yearn,
Not
I could write a symphony of our times, a delicate and fragile melody that clings to your skin like rain drops. A haunting composition laced with imperfect cadences of words never spoken aloud. The beauty of music itself, sounds so gloriously welcomed, is in such contrast to our reality. The bass soon replaces your heartbeat, pulsing rhythm through your veins, intoxicating your blood like poison. I am nothing: a blank stave upon which you make your mark.
Watch the world narrow,
To a field of white,
Nothing to be seen,
But the snow's tight grip,
The color fades,
To shades of gray,
And the white, white glow,
Of a field of snow.
Oh how I hate the stars by CrumbledWings, literature
Literature
Oh how I hate the stars
Oh how I hate the stars
plaguing me each night
with cruel honesty
of their light
of how they hang
so far away,
nooses choking my hopes
with all they weigh.
Oh, how the stars hate me
waiting patiently
to shoot through,
and away from me
carrying with them
wishes I'll never see.
Oh stars
how the horrors of your light
blind me when I look to you
for something each night.
But with the coming of each day
I always forget
and every night
I'm forced to regret
when I look to your light.
Oh, how the stars hate me
and how I hate the stars
for the things which I see.
A poem is a story without it's clothes on.
It's an island in a sea of white,
An artist's heart in ink.
It's proof of thought,
Of emotion,
Of sensation.
It's a place to go,
A shield to hide behind,
A confession to make.
A poem is one's true nature,
One's soul - naked.