There's always a moment when it all isn't real. When it hits you, you always have a moment where you really don't know what exactly happened. There's a part of you that stays in that comfortable moment when everything is fine and nothing can touch you.
It goes by the name of denial. It happens just before the impact, almost as if something is giving you a small respite before tragedy. Take this moment for all it's worth because as sure as the earth turns around the sun, it will be followed by undying agony.
Before the pain sets in, before you start hating everything there ever was just for ever being, you will be happy. Maybe you'll feel a
Have you ever felt like you had nothing left? That’s how it felt for me when the sun rose on our brand-new, war-torn world.
It was night when it began. No one is sure what happened or who started it, but tensions exploded and the world balance was thrown. I wasn't terribly concerned about it. I was living in America (poor, but great at winning, right?) in the middle of no where. I was safe and the war was something that couldn't touch me.
Until my brother and father were drafted. My mother and I got letters every week until winter came. We buried them for Christmas.
As if the heartbreak wasn't enough, the world began to change. Eart
Okay, chances are one person will read this (maybe two if I'm lucky). These are just the people I know closely and that watch me so really, I could say whatever I wanted.
No one reads lit. deviations from generic writers. What do they have to say anyway? All they have is emo poetry and pictures they call photography, right? Right.
I'm a generic writer with a generic gallery and generic pictures. I will never be known as a writer to any but those I guilt into reading my works.
But even though I'm one of thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of generic deviants with generic galleries, that doesn't mean that I am not unique. Jus
This world is on the precipice of defeat,
teetering on the edge,
just waiting for a strong wind to either save or damn it.
Reach out with all you have and push,
push the world back to safety,
just dreaming of the day that you'll be big enough,
a strong wind that could decide our fate.
The Introduction
The night sky was wide and inviting that night. It beckoned all below it to come play in the muted, silent world. Many resisted this temptation but three threw caution to the wind as they regularly did.
They stood on the roof of an apartment building that gave them a fantastic view of the artificial lights scattered in the city. Only one of them seemed to be looking at it, however. She was leaning against the railing, dark black hair blowing around her face as she surveyed the streets. She was young but the way she held herself belied a great deal of importance. She was their leader, for better or for worse.
To her right,
The home is just a house,
an empty house once again.
Front door hanging on its hinges,
open to expose a memory of a family.
There's a tricycle at the top of the stairs,
on its side and rusting.
A torn picture of a woman and two children,
a man has been torn away.
A bed frame is left in a child's room,
dull fire-engine red.
There are broken crayons,
decorating the floor.
Where have they gone?
Are they ever to return?
Did anyone notice,
that this home is just a house?
Standing empty,
open to the world.
What is there left,
for the fading memories?
Sitting all alone in the corner of my mind.
Punishing myself?
Trying to kill myself?
Keeping myself from the world?
I know what drove me to this,
but I can't for the life of me figure out why I stay.
Don't look at me,
whatever you do don't look.
I don't want to be seen,
not when I know what I've done.
Bite my lip and let it bleed,
doesn't really matter in the end.
Leave me in my colorless world,
leave me to myself.
I've given up on apologizing,
I've given up on being forgiven.
All that just doesn't suit me.
I'll just punish myself instead.
Sometimes I'm Not Worth It by spastic666, literature
Literature
Sometimes I'm Not Worth It
I will spit and scream and rage,
I just want you to understand,
all you have to do is understand.
Sometimes I'm just not normal.
I'm not healthy at all and I hurt people,
so just take a step back.
I'm not getting any better,
so step back and run away,
because in the end you'll just get hurt.
And you understood me loud and clear,
you stepped back and you ran,
but before that you had to have the last say.
I'm immature you say.
I am not at your level.
Talk to you when I grow up.
I wish I could say it didn't hurt but it did,
I wish I could say it was a lie but it wasn't.
I wish I could talk to you but I can't.
So these days I don't talk muc
The world bursts into flares of sparks,
consuming all that is,
and burning away all that will be.
We the people watch it burn,
watch it die,
and try our best to pick up the pieces.
The world we once knew is forever gone,
now changed into this new and scary place,
and we can only try to live through it.
And we live as long as we can,
we tell about the world as it was for us,
try to make them see why this new world is so bad.
They won't understand at all,
they have never known our world,
and they love and cherish the desolate place the world has become.
We can't stop them from loving this hell,
though we wish they could see it f
I have the sudden urge,
to climb a beanstalk,
bite the poison apple,
confront the big bad wolf,
and feel the excitement.
But as it is,
I would fall off the beanstalk and break my skull to let brains leak out,
die in a coma from a poison that has a stupid name and no known cure,
just before getting eaten by a wolf with the munchies.
I want nothing more than to,
live with an evil step-mother and cruel step-sisters and find a prince,
cry wolf at the top of my lungs,
build a flimsy home with three pig neighbors,
and feel the adrenalin.
But I can't because,
I would have to become an ax-murderer and kill my parents,
talk to a psychi
Worldwide, women started becoming pregnant with things other than babies: small appliances, footballs, kittens, puppies, exotic wildlife, wads of clothing, and many unidentifiable objects... perhaps some not of this earth. Most (all?) are immaculately conceived; most of the pregnant women do not have partners.
At first there is panic. Emergency surgeries. Confusion. Official news of the events are suppressed but there are simply too many -- everyone knows somebody who has become pregnant with an object. Normal pregnancies still happen but they seem to be tapering off.
Many pregnancies are too large to be delivered naturally so there is
You don't think about writing a poem
You just frantically scribble
Before the thoughts leave you
The perfect words to describe your stance
The perfect words to describe your beliefs
Not simply to state them
But to explain them
Multilayered understanding
Nothing is simple
Reasons for reasons
Spawning more reasons
Is it to chase an unknown secret
Or to make sure my existence is acknowledged
Deeper and deeper
Nothing is at the bottom
But I will find it anyway
Nothing
Not the bottom
So I've started to write/type a new story. This is what I've written so far. Please tell me what you think!!!
As he climbed off the bus, I ran to him and gave a leap. He dropped his bags and with outstretched arms caught me from the air. Our lips connected and my heart skipped a beat as he embraced me within his strong hold. My feet never touched solid ground. Our kiss deepened and we were the only ones left, no witnesses, no more people, just us.
"I'm so glad your back!" I mumbled through his lips.
"Me too." He pulled back and swept a strand of hair out of my face. His soft hands making chills go down my spine even though it was over 80 d
I love to write so I read lots of books for inspiration. Mainly I like fantasy and that's reflected in my writing. My best work right now is Confesssions From the Insane Asylum. Give it a read if you want.
I'm packing up and moving on. To this place right here -> ~hisca (https://www.deviantart.com/hisca)
Just getting around to setting everything up, but hopefully I'll start posting soon.
I am a little sad to leave this account but I think I should.
Well, goodbye. Hope to see you on my new account. ;p