My mind is corrupted
by the idea of ideals
The mirror deceives
as guilty seeds grow
A hypocrite in mind
naive in to the bone
I feel like I'm out of focus
Standing by the riverside
Watching day by day fade by, so agonising slow
I feel like I'm underwater
Drowning in the deep
Unable to get a grip, as time slip away above me
I feel like I'm the leaf
Chasing in the wind
Living in the moment, taking nothing for granted
Death BreathThis is not guidance or help
But take my advice
Stop the stupid fight
No inferior dies
The hunger of the broken-hearted
The hunger of the broken-hearted.
He found her broken-hearted.
So he gave her his to mend.
It was all so very good meant.
But his heart was never true.
And when he finally left her,
She had not only cracks left,
But a fresh hole in her chest.
Desperately needing comfort,
She stole the hearts of others.
Finding some peace for a while,
Before the hunger came back,
And drove her to toss it away
To find a new and sweet one.
The hunger of the broken-hearted.
The shadows are whispering
The innocent words that to
The unfaithful soul becomes
The cruel but unspoken truth
Play one more time
the song we played
way back in the days
When life was fun
and time infinite
We spoke no bad
we were innocent
and always so naive
Take me back there
let me be naive again
even if just a moment
The keys are dusty
the melody rusty
From a lost time
were kids were
but innocent kids
With only one colour
Will I paint the world
All in blue shades
All in creme white.
Because we are all one
United and equal
No differences to tell us apart
The dream of us all
Being all as one
United and strong
What would it be
If there where more
colours to see?
A world in a mess
Not one alike the other
If yellow and green
And not red and red
Went hand in hand
What would happen
To the perfect clan?
We should all be alike
A copy of one and another
Not painted differently
Alien to one and other
We should be made
The same altogether
Not formed by strangers
Sickly obsessed with her body
She stands by the shattered mirror
Praising her hateful body
As she decorate it with another red line
SMIH ONE PIECE INTRO
The straw hats had held another large feast after yet another amazing adventure. All of their friends had gathered from across the many Seas to attend this party. The food, was naturally delicious, and the drink flowed freely while music from Brook played long, and loudly. The atmosphere with this large group of both Pirates and a few Marines alike was uncanny and would rarely, if ever happen again in the near future.
Suddenly there was a clinking sound coming from the midst of the large crowd. The laughter and chatter quieted down to hear what the announcer had to say. A certain blond pirate with a swirly eyebrow and a cigarette stood and took a puff before he spoke.
"Never have I seen so many of our friends in one place before, so, I'd like to propose a toast to our friendship." Sanji began as he raised a red wine glass.
Everyone picked up their drinks as they gave Sanji their undivided attention.
"Whether we met on the battlefield, or through Luffy-'' (A small riot of chuckles at th
I was never a writer. I: Halfsleeper
I fell in love, once.
A snowstorm melting from my hair - dripping cataract:
diluted coffee. A dark room filled with language
so beautiful, I almost understood what was said.
Children are getting younger, and this land has no end,
where do you rest your head?
All things are in a constant state of vibration,
a harmony in the space between
our fingers. our hands.
I’ve only ever stopped to listen
darling, darling. i.
you were in my
darling. i felt you in my
d a r l i n g, and when i awoke i thought
that it was
and you were yelling and
asking me where you were, where
you had been, the worst part
was that i
couldn't answer you. in all
of your anger,
you were still the one person
whose name stung my
you were in my
part of me wishes that you
my mother told me that people
would often break your heart
if you loved them too
much, so i guess that just
this is my fault after
but now i am high
thinking of last winter and how
i spent it
with you, and how i am
doing it again this
I wish I would just die.
That I would run out of power.
That the other's would just stop torturing me.
That the other's would just destroy me and all my parts.
I don't belong here.
I'm an outcast.
A nice guard to play with!
Maybe this time I'll gain a friend!
But where'd you go?
All I see is the leader.
I hide out of fear and come back to see you again!
I want to play!
I steal your torch to start a game!
But what's the matter?
You look terrified, Mr. Guard.
Are you alright?
You're staring at me with those big round eyes.
Trying to talk, I think?
Suddenly, blood splatters the walls as the teeth of a certain one sinks into your brain.
It's my fault.
The one turns around and grins at me.
"Not bad." he says.
I stare at the bloody guard.
It's my fault.
It's all my fault.
I make a whimpering sound.
The one stares at me.
"Ya wuss" he sneers.
All I wanted was a friend.
Sincerely, Your NotebookHe walks into the room,
his feet stumbling
from the anxiety
that wracks his entire body,
and spits his soul on to me—
the black liquid thoughts left unspoken.
Tears stream down his pale cheeks,
heartbreak and sorry making his lips quiver,
and as his fingers threaten to wrap themselves
around his scrawny neck
and break every bone
they whisk away his deepest secrets
I want nothing more than
to be able to comfort this miserable soul,
to stroke my fingers over his sullen face
and whisper all the things I adore about him,
but I simply cannot.
So I'll let him tattoo me with his depression
and allow him to use and abuse me
any way he wishes
until his tears are dry,
his cheeks are no longer tear-stained,
his lips no longer shake,
and his fingers rest.
After all, it is all I can do.
Friendship is Magic: Discord Did It Prolouge(Discord's POV)
I've been stuck as a statue for a full year now.
After having previously been in the same situation for more than a thousand years, you'd think one year would fly by. It doesn't.
I swear, either those ponies were taking their sweet time with changing the seasons, or time really did slow to a crawl for the past year.
I've actually been counting the seconds. There's not much else I can do, considering I'm now made of stone.
My nose itches. I do my best to ignore it. It's not like I can actually scratch it. My body apparently hasn't realized that it's stone. Good for it.
Back to counting, I suppose.
Thirty-one million, six-hundred forty-three thousand, nine-hundred fifty-three.
Thirty-one million, six-hundred forty-three thousand, nine-hundred fifty-four.
Thirty-one million, six-hundred forty-three thousand, nine-hundred fifty-five.
This is so organized.
I'm going Well, I can't be going crazy. How can someone who's basically the living incarnation of insanity and
The Never-ending MasqueThe Never-ending Masque:
A troupe of dancers, with colourful costumes
Ascends the stage with jaunty smiles
Whilst the eldest member, in a Jester's mask
Narrates the tale in style:
As they begin their dance, these lovely dancers
The skies turn cold and grey...
Arms reach down from the rumbling heavens
And they take our stage away!
Yet the harlequins laugh
And simply dance on the grass
For the show must go on
Until time has passed
Harken brothers, a wicked wind blows!
It stirs from the belly of the unkind beast
It rips our props away from us;
And hopes the dance will cease...
But the Harlequins laugh and continue the show
They mime to mimic their props and tools
Using naught but the love that they have in their hearts
They create a fable of ghosts and ghouls
My brothers, no, it cannot be!
The narrator grasps at his throat in anguish
For the Jester's voice has been taken away
And now the show can finally be vanquished...
But the Harlequins laugh and put on a sm
A Turning Point in the Clockwork WarA war of attrition
depends on supply and drawdown,
how much you have and how much you use up.
With personnel, the balance concerns
the influx of recruitment versus
the outflow of casualties, deserters, invalids.
There is only so much loss
that a fighting force can sustain
and still fight.
Pilot Claude Archer was the first
to challenge his invalid discharge.
"I don't need legs to fly," he said,
patting the healed stumps of his thighs.
"My Osprey runs on elbow grease."
The members of the discharge board
paused and looked at each other.
What he said was true.
The Osprey-class fighter jets
relied on hand controls,
and a sharp eye and iron nerve.
Fingers flicked through the stack
of discharge papers -- so many, many pages.
So many soldiers lost, never to fight again.
They could not afford to let slip even one
who might be retained, somehow,
to face the front line once more.
Far less could the war effort spare
one of its best pilots.
So they put Pilot Archer back on the roster,
Doctor WhoHurtling through time and space,
Can he ever find a place?
Jumping forward to a brand new earth,
Jumping back to an empty hearth.
Forward again to see the Face of Boe,
Back in time to meet an old foe.
He is pursued by an incessant fact,
The likes of which he can't take back.
His entire home, his people his soul,
All gone, leaving him without a goal.
The last of the Time Wars,
The end of his kind,
He is trapped b