A letter to my future selfDear me,Hello my dear I hope you’re well, but I suppose that’s for time to tell.I hope you’ve aged with a beautiful grace, with no wrinkles on your face.I hope your smiling as you read this, I hope you’ve took your time and succeeded.Are you still writing? In your therapeutic way? For I know it keeps your demons at bay.How’s your family, I hope it’s grew, changed a lot from just being you?I know you’ll be more confident than you what you where before, I hope those common things don’t seem such a chore.How’s the view from your window, I bet it’s of the sea. Or somewhere very beautiful where I know you’ll feel so free.I know things are better than they ever were before, I know you’ll be strong through all the things that make you sore.I bet you seen all the sights and more than you ever dreamed, I know things will be so beautiful than they ever seemed.I suppose you’re busy, with you’re happy lif
My dear friendMy dear friend, I know it's been so long.Please forgive me, I was wrong.But I want you back, can we start again?When we're together I forget the pain.I'll let you lead and then I'll follow,I need you back, I feel so hollow.I miss the memories we used to create,Our relationship was truly fate.I hope my dear that you feel the same,Will you be the spark to my flame?I'm sorry that I went away,I miss you more, day by day.But as I write it's clear to see,My dear friend poetry you've came back to me!
One of those nightsIt's one of those nights were my eyes won't close,were tears keep dripping down my nose.It's one of those nights were everything's wrong but I can't explain why,When the light burns out all I'm left to do is cry.It's one of those nights were I panic at the slightest sound,Were under the air I feel like I'm drowned.It's one of those nights were I can't seem to breathe,Were I choke and I heave, I just want to leave.It's one of those nights were I can't stop thinking,I'm slowly falling, I'm drowning, I'm sinking.It's one of those nights were there are no lights in the sky,Were I feel grounded when I just want to fly.It's one of those nights were everything comes back,All the dark thoughts that shroud your mind in black.It's one of those nights were I'm too scared to dream,For once it's ends, I'll wake up, and scream.
The fame gameShy and quiet, is what you are,Yet is see you dreaming to be a star.Basking under that radiant spotlight,Smiling as your lips gently dust the mic.I see you glow as your passion flares,You melt all fears, you have no cares.But tell me now as your growing strong,Never missing a note in each and every song.Was it really necessary to change your name,Will it really gain you fame?They told you that your own wasn't cool or acquitBut your stage name doesn't really seem to fit.The wig and make up are a good gimmickBut for you I don't really think your with itI'll admit I'm happy for you,But as far as personalities go I think you have two.The fame monster seems to be growing insideYou can run but you can't hide.And the fact that your acting like you're hot shitYou're getting there, but you're not quite it.Watch this space.To late I've seen enough.
Can't be savedBound by pain, torn insideWorrying feelings are coming alive.A storm is forming inside my heartI can't breathe, I'm falling apart."Come help me" I scream as I fall from the skyYou reach out to catch me, then wave goodbye.I can hear your laughter ringing in my earsI can hear the demons whispering my fears.I try to call out, in a desperate pleaBut I know you can't save me.I want to go back, to change it allIt's all to late I've started to fall.I never even said farewell,As I fall to the gates of hell.I cursed myself, for that is trueThere's so much more I wish you knew.
The song of the Magpie One for sorrow, two for joy. What once was joyful, is now just sorrow.The bitter taste of today, is stale for tomorrow.A heavy drowse of a now distant past,Faded memories, of passings so fast. Three for a girl, four for a boy. There once was a girl who fell in love,Who had a heart as pure as a soaring dove.She met a boy with a heart of gold,Hard, metallic and awfully cold. Five for silver, six for gold. She was promised silver, diamonds and stones,Yet all she received was brass, ash and bones.She found the gold, in the best of others.Giving love and strength to her sisters and brothers. Seven for a secret never to be told.Lies were formed and secrets keptSerpents whispered while she slept.She let nothing bother her, had struggles a few.Though legend says for joy, you must see two.
I began to writeI began to write a verse filled with spite, filled with anger and utter betrayal.I began to write how I was truly hurt and all the wrongs that had been done to me.I began to write to protest on everything you had done, to shame you, to blame you.But as I began to write I seen that nothing worked, that I had filled the page with a vile and hateful verse.I had seen that what I had began to write was the beginning of a fight, a beginning of a war that would only hurt both sides.So instead if fighting fire with fire, I extinguished the flame, and made a white flag for my soul.I took a step back from my fiery attack.And I began to write this.
Take a walk with me.To the end we shall go, were ever it may be,Take me down the path less travelled, walk me through the sea.The broken glass of crackled hearts, were bare feet may tread,Along side the river of the dammed, the water coloured red.Hollow bones and bullet holes litter the sandy plain,Dried blood is the mark that only death may reign.Yet here we stand in fire and smoke,Drowning in it's gentle choke.One inhale,and off I'll sail.To a valley of eternal bliss.
My WingsMoving on to better things, I'm so happy I found my wingsNo need for tears, no sinking fears.A burning passion comes in roaring fashion.A smile I bear, free without a care.No broken hearts, or scaring marks.I'm moving on to better things, no more rocks upon my wings.
Perfect ImperfectionsThis world is a NIGHTMAREfor perfectionistsTo search for perfectionin an imperfect world isnothing but mere MADNESSPerfection existsin the eternity, whereNo one fights against timeBut...Who wants a life...without any madness in it?At least the world is...perfectly imperfectSo, Dreamers...keep fighting for perfectionBecause in the end it'll worth somethingyou have never imagined before
Era uma vezEra uma vez. Era pois já não é, e uma vez pois foi um momento singular. Nesse momento singular, um homem, do gênero humano, que surgiu desse imperativo de que surgisse, dessa força inexorável que guiou tudo que havia até então até ele. Ele pensou em sua origem e a chamou de Deus.E Deus deu-lhe olhos. Ele viu um mundo muito maior que ele mesmo e percebeu o tamanho de sua insignificância, olhou ao redor e percebeu que era só. Deus deu-lhe consciência. Ele viu a centelha da criação em todas as coisas e percebeu como Deus era grande, ele viu a beleza. Deus deu-lhe ouvidos. Ele ouviu o mundo e o achou vazio, ouviu a si mesmo e achou-se mágico. Deus deu-lhe tato e olfato. Ele sentiu frio, calor, cheiros bons e outros nem tanto.Então, como se fosse de sua natureza, para bem ou para mal, transformar o singular em plural, o único em corriqueiro, já não era um, mas mais e mais ainda. Como se fosse se
A Discourse on DiscordSome of you ponies may be wondering why Discord, a spirit of disagreement and disharmony, has been given a second chance. Why would Princess Celestia see Discord as being used for good, worthy of being reformed? What purpose does disagreement and disharmony serve? I mean should there not be peace? Should there not be harmony? What most ponies fail to realize is that not all peace is good. There is peace with being content and peace in being complacent. Peace that is found in being complacent is not a good thing. It is not being content but just accepting things are because they have always been that way. What if something has always been a way but it was not good? Should we be complacent with something that is not good? I would think that my little ponies would say no to something like that. It is through chaos that shows us what is true and what it not.How do you think new discoveries are made? It is either
Walking on Air “Asia Air has been a great success.” Said CEO Koichi Fujioka. His smile was warm. His face relaxed and calm, not a single drop of sweat hanged from his once stressed brow. His teeth were clean and shining. His suit, well kempt and appealing to the eye, as he always had it. He waved a hand upwards, attracting attention to the large “Asia Air” sign above the boardroom. “We are the most successful airline in all of Asia, the Middle East, and Oceania. Soon to be the most successful worldwide, I might add.” He said with a laugh. The other members of the meeting chuckled loudly along with their superior. “Now that the Iraqi No-Fly Zone conflict has ended we can move forward with g
A Poem Turned to ProseA Poem Turned to ProseOnce upon a time there was a young woman who always seemed to be waiting. But for what, she didn't quite know. Perhaps it was a hope for that seed inside to finally germinate and begin to grow. An anticipation for it to be sparked, one day, by something…something intangible…something balancing on the very edge of reality.The seed stored the essence of her dreams, you see. Dreams that maturity stole away and changed the games she always thought she wanted to play. And years passed. Things were forgotten. Lost in the cycle of time. She was happy, happier than most, but she felt there was always something missing. Because the seed remained. Still remains. Like a tiny shard of glass piercing her heart. Every day. Every second. In its persistent, nagging way. Not a torment. Not painful. Just there. Always there.Sometimes she fears she will
Colour Counting WitchI count.One.Three.Seven.Fifteen.Thirty-One.I look.Blue.Green.Light Grey.Dark Grey.Black.I feel.I feel the tears flowing from myeyes. Creating a warm line of saltrunning past my nose, over mylips, and under my chin.I count.I look.I have to concentrate. I muststop these tears from flowing.Before they destroy my carefullyapplied make up.My perfectly applied façade.You might say I look beautifulwhen I cry. You might wonderwhy I hide my face when tearsstart flowing.I guess my eyes do turn abrilliant blue, my lips seem toturn a perfect red and my cheeksand nose turn a peachy pink.But I hide.Because I do not trust you toleave me behind, you might runwhen you see the beautifullybroken witch I have become.Beautiful, but a witchnonetheless.So run, my dear, run.And I will stop the tears thatmake me seem harmless.I’ll count the colours.One.Three.Seven.Fifteen.Thirty-One.Blue.Green.Light Grey.Dark Grey.White.
The irony of the colour redI find it strange how the colour red can symbolise;Hurt HatedSufferingBloodPainAngerLiving hellBut it's can also symbolise love.