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Literature Text
For some absurd reason,
I have a memory of you
Asking me to marry you.
We were sitting on the hill,
Like we normally did,
Looking towards the bay,
And I remember that the water
Was sparkling like liquid diamond.
It was high summer,
And there were those
Butterflies, the ones I love
Amongst the wildflowers
I was in a dress for once,
Pale pink silk gauze,
And you'd spread your jacket
Out for me to sit on.
I turned round,
And your eyes nearly
Swallowed me.
Like white light
Through green leaves.
You opened your hand,
And there was the most
Perfect ring, gold and one
Deep emerald, like
Looking into the soul of growth
It was a pretty proposal,
Out in the open,
In the sun,
From the most beautiful
Boy
In the world.
I remember.
I remember I said no.
I have a memory of you
Asking me to marry you.
We were sitting on the hill,
Like we normally did,
Looking towards the bay,
And I remember that the water
Was sparkling like liquid diamond.
It was high summer,
And there were those
Butterflies, the ones I love
Amongst the wildflowers
I was in a dress for once,
Pale pink silk gauze,
And you'd spread your jacket
Out for me to sit on.
I turned round,
And your eyes nearly
Swallowed me.
Like white light
Through green leaves.
You opened your hand,
And there was the most
Perfect ring, gold and one
Deep emerald, like
Looking into the soul of growth
It was a pretty proposal,
Out in the open,
In the sun,
From the most beautiful
Boy
In the world.
I remember.
I remember I said no.
Literature
Dream Invasion
In the dead of night the culprit stole;
Into your dream to take you whole,
Lacing thoughts with such blight;
Stealing your heart for its own delight.
Within your head it creeps and lurks;
Placed by terror and dark’s deep quirks,
Cold and sharp behind your eyes;
Pouring up in incriminating cries.
The blank of white streams in tears;
Forcing out your primal fears,
Twisted into targeted hate;
It strips you of your chosen fate.
Now you are but to paint the lines;
A story to tell of her crimes,
Prose written in desperate plea;
Unable to hide, unable to flee.
Forever stuck in the cold tide;
A surge which you are forced to ride,
It was but
Literature
Beetle
I am a beetle trapped between w p i a n n d e o s w suffocating glass and body f o l d i n g The shuttering, s h u d d e r ing — then finally still.
Literature
- Dream -
- Dream -
Full moon lit my path, as I ran deep within the dark forest.
The sound of men not to far echoed behind me.
My breath was heavy; the cold air seemed to be making my lungs
Feel like ice.
My bow on my back felt like stone.
But there was no use using it.
There was just too many of them.
I felt like dropping everything and hitting the sky, but there just too many
trees. Not enough room for my wings to spread across, all I could do was run.
*thoughts ran through out my mind. Who are these men?*
*Why were they after me, and who wanted me dead?*
As I ran deeper in the forest, a black image on the ground caught my eye.
When I was closer
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Comments19
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Totally creeping your gallery, don't mind me.
I know you think this isn't well written, but there's a beautiful story lurking underneath. There are endless reasons for why she could have said no and I love that you left it up to us to decide.
I'm going to leave now before you think I'm really creepy, aha.
I know you think this isn't well written, but there's a beautiful story lurking underneath. There are endless reasons for why she could have said no and I love that you left it up to us to decide.
I'm going to leave now before you think I'm really creepy, aha.