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Immortal TruthTorn between hearts
Difficult to find
What is in thought
to decipher human mind?
Show me the true meaning
Amidst the struggles and fears
Is it truly worth
to let out those tears?
“Why can’t you stop lying?!”
I shout and scream.
The truth is right there
when all seems to be a dream.
I was right here
When they started to dread.
If they don’t listen to me,
I might as well be dead.
the truth never dies.
Drown me in Sugar :Original story: Drown me in Sugar
: original short story :
It was around ten-thirty when Cornelius twisted the keys of the doorknob and let himself into the entrance of his small apartment building. He shuffled carelessly to put his bags down on the floor and closed his wet black umbrella to place in a bucket by the door. In brisk strides, the middle aged man returned back to the living room and rushed to close the drafty window through which the unwelcome winds had blown in, whistling their stormy song.
“I was wondering when you were going to close that; this house can turn rather dreadful under the moisture,” Cornelius spun around to meet the eyes of the stranger sitting upon the chair closest to the window, gazing attentively towards the man.
“It’s always dreadful here. The weather in London is seldom happy.” Cornelius sighed, running a hand through his choppy sandy locks. “ I've had a long day; I do not wish to talk to anyone as of now.”
Golden Sight :Tang Dynasty! China x Blind! Reader: Golden Sight (Part 1/2)
:Tang Dynasty!China x Blind!Reader:
Yao sighed wearily to himself as he approached the village. He was traveling for three days on his horse to the said village, only to get ambushed by a couple of thieves who were waiting to attack any unsuspecting travelers on their way. However, the Chinese man was fierce and he happened to have his Dao, a single edged long sword, to counter against the attacks. Though he was able to fend off the thieves with his nimbleness and great accuracy, he realized that his horse companion had been stolen while he was distracted.
Shrugging off the loss, he continued on his journey to the village on foot for the next two days, only stopping to drink the clear water from a couple of streams as he passed by. At last, he was finally able to make out the outlined rooftops of various homes and the Chinese man walked briskly down the road to enter the gates of the village. Upon arrival, Yao was in desperate need of a place to stay, so
Living Dream Living Dream
Standing alone, I wait.
Hear the cars purr softly.
Taste the dryness in my mouth.
Smell the pungent smoke of a cigarette.
The objects are bright and shiny.
The mirror's glassy surface.
But my mind says it's a stranger.
My conscience screams at me:
What is reality?
What is conscience?
Am I in a daze?
A trance perhaps?
This is not reality.
I am not asleep.
This is not real.
But I am not asleep.
My mind feels numb
My eyes feel hazy.
Those ornaments are red.
The hot chocolate tastes hot.
I wave at a little kid passing by.
I cringe at the smell of garbage.
I shiver at the cold.
Every breath and heartbeat
Every second, minute, hour, day, month, year
I wait to open my eyes.
I wait to step out of this illusion.
I wait to free myself.
I wait to wake from this living dream.
The Dead and the Living (pr.1)Difference between the Dead and the Living (Pr. 1)
I let my hands brush and graze over the engraving marked on a slab of rock as I felt its cold rough texture run against the skin of my lips. The air around me is moist and musty--perhaps from the rain--but unusually sweet and almost nostalgic. It reminds me of the warm nutty scent of the trees and pine cones in the forests I used to play in. The day is damp and the skies are cloudy. With weather like this, there is no other person present and lingering around here like I am. There’s nothing as solemn as standing amidst the dead anyway; the skies know when to weep for them.
And a beating heart.
The sound bothers me. It reminds me of the reason why I roam around this Earth. The constant tha-thump tha-thump tha-thump echoes in my ears in a steady rhythm. In a place as silent as this, the sound seemed to reverberate for miles and miles that I fear the dead would envy us. The pulse is a merely a human percuss
Queen TsukiyomiA cold winter night
the crystal clear tears set upon the glass
winds rattle the minds
like trees during the storm
the moon without stars is alone
it is a singular mind
lose stars strike you of jealousy
you ring a unheard tune
so far away you admire from above
or do you admire from below?
a mistress of mystery
you control the seas with your shadows and size
high tide not even Poseidon can control
you are the clear master of night
none master your authority on these hours
stars flock to your side
a celebrity of the skies
Tsukiyomi you are named
the phases of your mind of perplexity
each season you remain within the order you have set
your are bruised for your silence
the angels lay upon you hollow shell
heaven only knows your caress
Ra gives you light
that has given you life
PrincessWhen she was born, I stared awestruck, and smiled deeply when her little hand gripped onto my index finger. My little princess was finally in my hands, as my queen lay exhausted on the bed.
Time flew by as she stumbled over her first steps and first words, giggling at these new experiences. Her innocent laugh wafting through the house. It wasn't long after that she was conversing with us in that childish way, and insisting that she wear her blue princess outfit wherever she went. And in my eyes, she was just that, and I treated her as such.
Years passed and she drifted away from me, constantly telling me that I didn't understand, and going through phases as much as she changes clothes. I try to talk to her, but she just locks herself up in her room and plays her music loud enough to drown out the noise of me banging on the door and yelling. This perpetual spiral of chaos and emotions all began when my wife passed away. Eight months without her and our worlds crumble without even a mom
yesterday nighti woke and looked up,
and saw the night sky swallow
the moon with its clouds
and i closed
my eyes and dreamed of
Starlight ShacklesStarlight Shackles
Steering away from the monsters of the world, I run towards my home of constant heart breaks. No breaks for me today as my most loved are battling with the most hateful words. The shadows forcing me to listen to their laughs as I toil, trying to restart the light. My face is slammed downwards as I am put into the darkness without fail. As I look up I see the faces sneering at me as they push my heart deeper into the realms of hatred. I am haunted by the melancholy voice, “Is that really so?”
Turning away I know now that my power can’t possible rival ones who put me here. God has abandoned me at last. Bask in the insanity and desperation. Crying and in horrible pain I reach out to the one who grasps my hand. “Listen to my reasoning; please find your light that you have lost, you are not a flower of hell”
There was no light for me. Since no one stands with me, I’ll stand for myself. I’ll force fate to my liking, even if I have
Fields Of IridescenceI created this world
An artifical sanctuary all for you.
A surreal dream given life to mend a wounded heart
I gave you a field of iridescent bliss.
A flowerbed of vivid blossoms that never wilt
The golden rays of a shining sun
A night sky strewn with glistening stars
So why my dear?
Why do tears continue to fall?
My heart still aches
Im torn between my reality and the temptations of your man made abode
Why have you imprisoned me within the confides of your lavish illusion?
What do you hope for now that I'm here?
When Thoughts are Left to FesterIt was nothing to be desired for, her white hair, powder pale completion and deep red eyes.
They say that you should be careful for what you wish for and she had always asked why- if desperation made it so, then surely wishing for the thing you desired most would do no harm. She had been wrong of course, so catastrophically wrong that it had become tragic. She watched herself steadily in the mirror, at how her wry smile at her own stuidity demonised her 'sweet' facial features.
Kaze sat in front of her dressing table brushing her hair until it shimmered like the pearly rays of the moon while observing her own face in the mirror with newfound curiosity.
Even though it was hers, and it had been the face she had always known it seemed so very alien, the dimples in her cheeks now underused, the lines in her face from a smile that once lit a room were as smooth as marble, her unpronounced cheekbones now high and a prominent part of her facial structure, and her once small lips were pl
To Be RevealedAnd what is there, lying beyond your mind?
A gracious greeting, or death warrant, signed?
When your sun is settling down on western sands,
Who will await you, stretching out their hands?
Are they holding your heart with reverence due,
or a knife, with which to strike straight through?
At the end of that hallway, what blocks your descent?
A saintly soul, or sins to repent?
In every tunnel, there are doors to inspect.
Some to show the future, others to reflect.
No one door, to paradise, leads.
No one road to bear the swiftest of steeds.
Yet, to Hell, there is no certainty still,
Mountains can't be climbed when there is no hill.
And so, dear child, what waits for you,
when your time has come and your life is through?
Can Heaven be hidden behind these doors,
or damnation, your sins to be counted by scores?
A desert dry or the lushest of lands?
Well, open the door, my dear child, and...
A White FuneralThe shrine was white, or so it appeared, obscured by the many flowers. And a coffin, black, was set out in front of it. The only colour in the room was the red lipstick, striking against Maria’s pale skin. The speeches began, people saying what they always do, at least at a funeral.
There was no sign of the police, or the press for that matter. Just a few people in black, crammed in a small black room.
Maria was half-Russian, half-Japanese, which was rather rare in a small Japanese town. She had inherited her mother’s looks, her father’s alertness, and the languages of both. She despised her parents. Her father was a drug dealer. Her mother was an alcoholic, blowing all the dirty money on drinks and drinks only. Maria had to look after herself most of the time. It was frequently that she locked herself in her room, terrified of her own father and his dodgy contacts.
She grew up, dropped out of school, and left home the first chance she had. Maria fell in love, married
A Painting's DemiseShe stands before a museum
Empty and dark as if night.
She thinks to herself,
“If only this place had light.”
She strolls down the corridors
passing by her father’s art
She gazes upon a painting
and feels no remorse in her heart.
She is excited and anxious
to walk about
Until she sees the words on the wall
that says she cannot get out.
She hears some dripping
And some footsteps coming near
The poor girl’s pulse beat quicker
as her pretty blue eyes dilated in fear.
“Why are you doing this to me?!”
She screams out loud.
“Why can’t I be like them?
Why am I not allowed?!”
The words bleed blue
and chills her to the bone.
“Please don’t leave me,” it said.
“I don’t want to be alone.”
you’re scaring me
She thought, backing away.
I wish you were here to save me…
I don’t want to stay.
The museum grows dimmer
She frantically attempts and tries
In a last moment to f
Crown of ThornsShe wakes up with red staining her pillow
and the taste of blood like iron in her mouth
It stains her teeth and leaks from her lips, and as she
rinses her mouth out, she can’t help thinking that
it’s better than dirt and ashes
it feels like she’s wearing a noose
of broken promises and shattered glass
that tightens around her throat with every day that passes
She nails a smile to her face
and doesn't let herself think the word dying
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More