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AndiGele Apr 2016
I breath,
                 feel,            
                           love...
       I am me...
                but yet... I am  alone...
                 What else do I need??
comment guys
AndiGele Apr 2016
Ashes to the ground.
Evil is near,
Eating our brains,
Drinking our sweat,
Sweat made by fear,
Demons possessing our bodies,
Devouring our soul.
When the light appears,
It is too late,
The evil has won,
We are burning from the light,
Screaming for the demons to help us.
The demons crawl out of the living corpses,
And disappear
But wait,
Why are we still burning?
Because we have become the evil ourselves.

                     Ashes to the ground.
Just something I wrote really fast. Comment your opinions plz
AndiGele Apr 2016
Hello, hello
Why didn't you wait?
I can't let you go.
Why did you do this to me?
I love you, and then you leave?
I need you to come back...
Hello...
Hello?
...
*beep
Please comment
Ink
AndiGele Feb 2019
Ink
Flowing out of my burning brain and into my aching hand. Pumping blood into my finger tips and nerves listening to my mind and it’s cries. The ink glides into the blank page as they become one, absorbing my pain. Cleansing me of my punishing thoughts. I write and write until my hand goes numb and my mind grows faint. It all made sense to me. The words jumping off the page and flying into the next thought. The name of who I love somehow appeared on the page, more than once. All the stories of my past and theories lingered as well. If one were to read it they wouldn’t understand, they wouldn’t even know where to begin because it only makes sense to the owner of the thoughts that lit fire to the page. Tuck it away somewhere no one could see, see the secrets I kept so well, see the depth of my soul trapped in the black ink.
Just something random. Hope you like it
AndiGele Apr 2016
Love is a cigarette,

It is addictive,

It starts with a spark,

But ends in ashes.

Sometimes it distracts you,

From your stress and numbness,

And sometimes making you feel,

Whole and satisfied,

But on the first puff...

The damage is already done.

Then it quickly dies out...




Leaving you wanting more.
Little metaphor
AndiGele May 2017
Oh, for we are not taught to love oneself,
But we love others much more savagely.
We do not see the goodness in our self,
loving flaws of others passionately.
Instead of loving our beaten up soul,
We trust others with our weak, battered heart.
When Caring for others makes us feel whole;      
to care for oneself will tear us apart.
People will leave but we are our only-
constant; here, even if we do not wish
Even with our constant, we are lonely.
Destruction- loving and not, we perish
Finally knowing to stay on alert.
It's funny how we always end up hurt.
a very rough draft. A sonnet about love
AndiGele Apr 2016
Playing a man to deliver one girl,

To save the world from infection spreading-
From extinction in the corrupted world.

To a hospital lab we are heading-

Never ending journey with evil near.

Killing- killing savagely to survive.
Becoming insane is our biggest fear.

One girl, one man, fighting to stay alive.

Had nothing- now has someone- not alone- 
Little girl- so brave, now has a father.

A man afraid of loving, loves someone.

Loving her- so broken- like a daughter

He can't let her go- precious like a pearl-

Killing people to save his Baby Girl.



BABY GIRL...
A sonnet I wrote about a video game called the last of us. Very touching story line.
AndiGele Feb 2018
In a place where even time doesn’t exist.
Every little thing has stopped it’s motion
Memories once ignored, now reminisced.
Waves of the past become a stilled ocean.
This realm frozen in time making me crave;
Crave reality so desperately.
When is it time to be placed in my grave?
Was it only just temporarily?Time slips away, I have become insane.
Forever stuck in a deserted dream,
Trapped and held hostage just to entertain.
I hear a shrilling, ear deafening scream,
Wake up! Realize time is melting away,
Sleepless time? Oh timeless sleep here I’ll stay.
It’s a poem I wrote about what I thought the painting “Persistence of Memory” by Salvador Dali was about. I really love the artist, and I love creating stories to art.

— The End —