Things just weren't the same.
The flowers once flowing with color like a fire work pressured before bursting,
Did not
bloom as bright.
and the birds,
The birds with pleasant cries of the lost warriors who had finally found their home,
were hushed
under
dark grey skies,
Weighing heavy on the ground
Like your mind weighed heavy on you.
The island held a ghostly hue.
Home is where the heart is, but the heart is empty like the skeleton of where we lived.
It was not ours anymore.
This was where we never grew up.
This is where everyday was another adventure.
This is where we fought pirates, and swam with mermaids.
We looted the seas, and took over the caves.
This place was ours.
We'd soar through the skies, and sleep on clouds.
This place was ours.
"Wendy?"
"Wendy!" they called.
The lost boys, they've grown up. The magic is gone.
It seeped through their skin, uprooted like a rag **** through cracked cement.
I clasped a hand around the string around my neck.
Until My shaken ghostly fingers held the old oxidized necklace that held my thimble.
Never land hasn't been the same since Peter had gone
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 10:08 PM UTC
"It's not funny anymore!"
I shook big brother,
Tears cascading down my face.
I looked up at the night sky,
The stars were falling.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
Eleven years since I enrolled.
Eleven years I've been a part of this system.
And with open arms I would finally like to thank you
For what the school has offered me.
So thank you
For preparing me for the world.
Needing to prove in six lines or more why line A is parallel to line B
Will surely serve me nicely when I'm on my own and need to write triangular comparisons.
And although I don't know a thing about taxes,
I know to fear not,
Because mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell,
And that is the only thing that will be on the test.
And I trust your all-knowing judgment because you have never failed me before.
So you must be right when you say my little brother doesn't need to write in script
Because , as you put it, computers are the future.
There is no need to learn to write.
And I can't forget the ever-so-loving atmosphere distributed to me all those years.
I had learned to have a sense of humor at the young age of nine,
Because it was a joke to you when the other children told me to end it with a slash.
And all the assessments have served us greatly.
The loss of a history class to learn how to use a keyboard for testing
Could not have been time better spent.
Real life skills do not need to be taught,
Not when useless test scores are prioritized and focused on
Rather than a decent life lesson,
And all because they equal money in corrupt superintendents’ wallets.
That is what I have learned after all these years.
A sincere thank you is in order for the education supplied.
I have surely been taught well.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 9:04 AM UTC
I forgive you
Insanity
One move left, countered to the threats dull edge
Expecting change
Insanity
By definition
Expecting change
When reports of repetition are always the same
Forgive me, the blood heavy beneath my skin,
The green flowers sprawled over lush purple fields of flesh
It blooms where your fingers have been
I forgive you for allowing it to happen again
Forgiveness is insanity
But hope is its fuel
Because if hate can run as deep as love
What is the good when left undone
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 9:03 AM UTC
And in the 4 am sadness,
is what you say really true?
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 8:25 PM UTC
I really hate when people say, "just get through it."
Do they not understand the animosity it takes to breath through broken ribs?
Because when your kicked till your down,
And your kicked still on the ground,
How will you get through it when there is no one there to reach out a hand,
Pull you up,
And say, "it will be okay."
Because there is nobody there.
Nobody to take the blows that defeat your lungs,
To soften the hits that crack your bones.
They won't dust you off and pat your back.
But they'll watch the losing battle and tell you to carry on with swollen eyes and blood stained lips.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
For me
Please don't leave here
Don't forget what you had
The life you built up from the ground
The relationships you have lost and found
The painful past is still a memory
And every moment with you
Is worth the pain
Don't leave
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
I want to feel your soft skin on my fingertips
As you hold me close at night
Hear soft snores from the moniter
Of our baby sleeping tight
I'll still lie awake at 2 am
But tears will not fall this time
Because I won't feel a need to cry anymore
With a warm body by my side
And I'll smile at 2 in the morning this time
Because I'll know this to be true
That I'll have finally beat my demons
And the hard times will finally be through
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC
I've always wanted to be an artist.
To have my words go with the desirable flow of the readers interpretable mindset and for them to say, "wow this girl is so mesmerizing."
But how can I do that with thick colossal storm clouds raging in my mind striking lightning on any rational sanity I might have left.
I wanted to be an artist.
To have the beauty from my eyes spill on to the blank canvas like the over flow of a dam carving water through the valleys to make its own distinguishable beauty. For people to see it and just feel the damaged perfection that had been sculpted into my impeccable masterpiece.
But how can I be an artist
When the only words people can read are the defeated thoughts my mind passed through.
When the only things spilling on a canvas is my tears and they evaporate unlike the strong mold of the gulf.
When the only damaged perfection is maintained in a porcelain complexion.
I wanted to be an artist.
But how can I.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
An angel of darkness wrapped in regression,
He calls upon me with raspy digression.
"I have come here for you to ensue,
All that I have to offer for you"
His eyes flickered the fears unsustained,
And body was wrapped in black tendrils of pain.
Though he did not flinch, nor feel this burn.
For he projected this plague to give me a turn.
Lungs on fire, heart ablaze,
My insides are melting black from pain.
His demeanor is scorched beyond recognition,
"This is now you," smiles Depression
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC