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The monster - draftThere was this girl once, who, liked to live in a world created inside hear head. And that world was made out of rainbow skies, sun kissed flowers, dream, fairytales, marshmallows and... him. But the was like the waves, coming, going and coming again. He was typical, norma, real and a total idiot. Real, like I mentioned. And she described him in so many words, she filled up an entire notebook with them, and she believed in those words. She described him as being every hero in her stories...
But one day, he, Travis, decided to brake her the news. This thime he was leaving for good, never returning into her caring arms although he promised her that a thousand times. He was never coming back, ever. his reason: he wouldn't regret it. Not now anyway...
And she was devastated of course, heartbroken, unwanted, alone. And she never really got over him because every time she missed him, she would stare in that notebook and remamber all about their story. And how he was the voice inside head hea
se pare ca-mi graieste-n alta limba intortochiata
in timp ce zambeste vag cu o aura intunecata
desprinzand mistere din aerul vechi al incaperii
in care soarele abia mai partundre printre draperii
in timp ce numar umbrele si-ascult sunetul distant de fanfara
el paseste lent numarandu-si pasii si masinile de afara
poarta in suflet o iubire, minus acele urme din trecut
care-i sunt prinse ca medallile unui soldat de soarta rapus
alt minut cade, cuvintele lui suna a poezii furate
dar niciunul dintre noi nu vorbeste de acele fantezii uzate
ma iubeste, dar cand a contat mai mult niciodata nu mia spus
doar s-a lasat purtat de vant, a inchis ochii si s-a lasat dus
si cand s-a intors tot la fel era, inchis, distant
cu gesturile unui veteran ingropate intr-un trup sarmant
dar cu toate acestea m-a luat de mana, ochii si-a inchis
si-a rosrtit domol "cu tine mereu, sunt cel mai fericit"
ExposureThere are so many reasons to pick a four leafed clover.
There are so many reasons to cry and die and fight over.
There are so many reasons to let my pulse have a different composer.
There are so many reasons to smile and laugh and stay sober.
There are so many reasons why I can't love her.
The Empty ChairThe evening breeze and the extra cup,
A lonely shadow upon the ceiling
And all things “destined” on the up:
Absent from a funeral of feeling.
The cloak of a Sunday in the sun;
Each passing taxi reeks of a plan:
In lieu of nothing, the day is won
Affords to think a better man.
Killing moments, playing tag with the mind:
The first paramour of pagan day;
A second honeymoon of lost fears can find
A love for that familiar blue Bombay.
The erratic world can be rather still:
A man and his betrothed corner of air
A deadbeat verse on a diner bill
Wooing the crevices of the empty chair.
SleepIf I could sleep believe me I would, but it's not
as easy as it looks.
The constant fear of running the wrong way,
bad dream, bad story to say.
Don't fall too deep, because the darkness can keep -
keep the warmest part of your soul and
rip it to pieces then let it go.
Broken you will wander the world like I am,
imagination will be all you have.
The voices won't tell you the right way, you will hide,
but will be unable to run away.
Hear me, go to sleep, don't think too deep.
It will catch you and make you belong.
Close your eyes but not for too long.
Stay awake just enough to fulfill what you need,
hallways full of paths are nearby, doors with broken
keys. But once you find yourself, you will find the
shiny one you really need.
© Martina H.
Soon to topple downwards
Into a mess never to be cleansed
By its unknowing argumentative owners
Who didn't even notice the fall of their creation
And who most likely wouldn't care if they did notice
For the focus has always been on the endless argument
Never on the silent growing of a disastrous and deadly storm
Who finally snapped and unleashed hell upon the people below
But not an outwards hell like the one formed from the argument
An inner hell like that of a personal fire that was never ceased of coal
And now the aftermath, a broken tower and an outward hell forever evolving
And at rubble dear but glance do deser
La amistad y el amor no se compranMuchos padres que están acostumbrados, a vivir de lujos y quieren lo mismo para sus hijos, quieren que se relacionen con personas que tengan su mismo nivel económico, por que dice que ellos le pueden dar de todo, pero hay algo que no se compra y es el cariño.
El dinero solo compra cosas materiales, pero que es mejor ¿tener mucho dinero y estar solo, o tener lo necesario y estar acompañado?
No les pueden decir los padres a los hijos que su bien estar debe enfocarse solo en lujos.
Muchos que tiene dinero resultan ser muy groseros, y se burlan de la gente pobre o media, pero no se dan cuenta de que ellos también tiene sentimientos, pueden no tener lo mejor para vivir pero tiene lo necesario, y viene siendo mas honrados porque pueden no vivir con reyes pero ellos tiene mas que cariño tiene apoyo.
En la amistad uno no debe de comprarla con regalos, debe ganársela con respeto y amabilidad, si tiene amigos solo por que les dan cosas, que
me siento sola, abatida sin ganas de ver a nadie y me pongo a pensar....
¿Porque es asi?
Aveces pienso... que en en realidad no hay nadie que me comprenda realmente y tan vez es asi...
Aveces siento que nadie me escucha que soy invisible y eso aveces puede ser bueno pero la soledad aveces puede ser mejor que la compañia... asi no tenidria a nadie que me criticara los conosca o no, es mas doloroso no escucharlo...
No lo se, no se por que siento que todavia no he encontrado a esa persona que me comprenda que me entienda que pueda entenderme con solo mirarme, aveces las personas me preguntan que tengo sin saber ni siquiera mi exprecion, tal vez por que me ven callada o seria y en realidad no me entienden y por eso digo que no hay con quien pueda tener una coneccion, alguien que en verdad me entienda, que con tan solo mirarme a los ojos me diga lo que siento que sea esa persona que me entienda de verdad, es por eso que aveces me siento como un fantasma, ese es uno d
What About LoveThere's something about love.
Some sick, masochistic need that everyone possesses.
That they would do anything to have it in their lives,
despite the fact that it has the capability
to tear you apart from the inside, out.
To love is to destroy.
Any baby you can tear me apart all you'd like,
because maybe it will break me,
but there's this feint possibility
that maybe it will save me first.
Oh to binge...I wait to be forgiven by the heavens,
Most likely I already have been-
We all wait for what is easily given,
Convinced we can shouldn't be forgiven.
In the sad tale of surrender,
Every heart is tried and found wanting
We trade the innocence for the lust
Inside our hearts succubi are so daunting
For the physicality is only a shadow-
So much is behind the veil of our eyes
Countless demons waiting for a spin,
One that will keep you twirling all your life.
Call me crazy, call me mad
I lost what all I once had,
To just a night of surrender,
And to this day I want it back.
if i could .still wonderless.if i could find a place were burdens could fade
you'd be a payphone away from the mess that i made
but I don't care if your beautiful lips exist out there
i'm still wonderless why you didn't begin to care
if i could know a time when i wasn't to blame
then i could run away for you every now and again
but when you kill the conversation and wrap up the knife
i'm still wonderless why you are still alive
if i could rearange every single memory that exists
you'd be a murderer and i would be at the top of your list
and we should get back to when we were in collision
but i'm still wonderless why you took that decision
if i could find a place where I could keep you safe
then you'd be just a doorknock away from that place
and i don't care if your unwilling to give it a try
i'm still wonderless why you won't try to be mine
Stuck The car sputtered and shook as it came to an almost silent stop. The engine had gone silent as the horn beeped loudly through the dark night. The orange gas light blinked mockingly at the woman behind the wheel. It was making fun of her; she knew it was making fun of her. Grabbing the black cellular phone on the passenger seat, she looked at it with full intention of calling somebody to come help her.
“Oh, what the hell?!”
The “no service” sign was mocking her at the same exact time. The horn beeped loudly as she slammed her head against it once again. The day was out to get her in general. She had arrived at all her classes late, and her son was sick with the flu. The babysitter was able to watch him as she went to her late night classes. Giving a heavy sigh, she lifted her head off the wheel to look out the window. Drops of water pooled on the windshield as rain started to fall in a pitter-patter pattern. She didn’t quite understand the message th
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