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Dec 2014 · 1.1k
True Love Is Like
Shyanna Ashcraft Dec 2014
Can you tell me what true love is like?
Like gold spun into silk?
Or maybe it’s be just like,
A perfect glass of milk.
Perhaps, like a beautiful field,
Admired from afar.
Or instead, a road with no sign to yield;
A song on in your car?
Tear drops that will never fall;
A child that can’t stay still?
A dog that has a rubber ball,
Or a fire you’d never ****.
An angel spotted near the Heavens,
Or a devil far below.
A jackpot; three sevens?
Bare feet on icy snow?
Can you tell me what true love is like?
Is it painful? Is it nice?
Please, tell me what true love is like.
For I fear its grip is upon me like a vice.
Written 9-8-14
Dec 2014 · 948
True And Perfect Happiness
Shyanna Ashcraft Dec 2014
It's that moment when a song comes on, and all at once you realize just how much you love it and then your heart overflows with every good emotion ever.

It's the smile on your face when you see something so cute and you just feel every ounce of joy in being able to see it.

It's the warm feeling when you smell something familiar and every memory attached to the smell just flashes in your mind, and you can't stop from wanting to hug someone.

It's the feeling you get when you see someone you've missed, beyond anything, for the first time in what feels like forever.

It's the sense of accomplishment you have when you finish something that took a lot of work, and you're overwhelmed with pride.

It's dancing around your room in only a towel while singing to the most ridiculous song, simply because you can.

It's lying in bed, picturing yourself doing everything you had ever dreamed of being able to do.

It's standing in front of something, just staring, and knowing that all of your dreams came true.

It's standing at a point in your life that isn't the best, and knowing that you will make things better.

It's all of the little, but not so little, things.

It's endless.
Written 11-28-14
Dec 2014 · 2.4k
The People
Shyanna Ashcraft Dec 2014
There’s a person here in front of me,
Their voice is in my head.
They’re saying not to rush, you see.
They’re begging for patience instead.
“Please, just take your time,”
They’re crying out,
“For these present days are sublime,
Don’t spend them all whining about,
The things that do not change,
Live your life as a happy person,
For the number of roads possible in your life have large range.”
And with that, these people were gone.
Written 9-18-14
Dec 2014 · 416
The Cycle Will Continue
Shyanna Ashcraft Dec 2014
White.
Plain white.
All I could see was the white.
It was a numbing sensation,
Which in my case was a relief.
I guess.
It was a pleasant change;
A break, for once, from the hurt.
From feeling as if my everything was tearing apart.

I had felt as if my chest had been cracked open,
My innards spilling out in a painful gush,
And the only thing I could do,
Was hug something close.
And maybe the tighter I held it,
The closer together everything inside me was,
And the closer to being better I was.

But it made me feel alone.
To hug a stuffed animal,
In a desperate attempt to make myself well.
To stops the heart aching and sobbing.
All I wanted was to be held,
And comforted,
And just held together.
Because everything felt as if it were falling apart.

But now it’s gone,
For now, at least.
I’ve let it all out,
Like I so rarely do.
I’ve cried it all away,
It feels as if I don’t have any tears left.

I’ll relish in this,
In this short period of numb.
Because as soon as I let it,
As soon as I move from this spot,
As soon as my mind begins to work again,
It’ll be back.
The cycle will begin again.
Written 9-15-14
Dec 2014 · 601
Saving The World
Shyanna Ashcraft Dec 2014
The violence, the cruelty, the ignorance,
Is this really what’s become of the human race?
Pain, drugs, belligerence,
The kids’ childhoods are gone,
Did they even exist?
Their parents’ lives are done,
Due to drugs and violence.
Must their lives suffer, too?
Must they grow up this way?
All these things that are taboo,
Why can’t they just go away?
There’s a tolerance for stupidity,
A lack of logical thinking.
People all around, just sitting.
Our economies are sinking.
As the crime rate grows,
The number of deaths do, too.
The soldiers are all fighting,
A war that never ends.
Quick! Just hit the lighting,
Camera ready? Let’s begin.
It’ll be a movie about reality,
The real one, not the fake.
A lesson on morality,
The laws our people break.
And as you sit down watching,
I hope you stop to think,
About the tears that shouldn’t be shed,
And the blood going down the sink,
From the people who shouldn’t have bled.
Why are people turning on people?
Why are kin abandoning kin?
No one gets left behind!
Did that get tossed out to the bin?
You must be loyal, you must stand strong,
And when your back’s against the wall,
You must continue fighting!
Catch each other when you fall!
We want equality for everyone,
Not just the privileged few!
You want us to be happy?
I’ll give you a little clue.
Treat humans like they’re humans,
And give respect where it is due.
I’ll keep trying to save this world,
I hope that everyone else will, too.
Written 9-9-14
A video of me reading it is posted to Youtube.
Dec 2014 · 978
Gracie Sprinkles
Shyanna Ashcraft Dec 2014
Looking at me with gorgeous eyes,
They sparkle as she stares,
She’s listening to me rant and talk,
She’s showing me that she cares.

I don’t know how she does it,
Or how she knows what to say,
She’s never really judged me,
It’s just always been that way.

She may be small,
But holds a lot of surprises,
She doesn’t look like much to you,
But magic has many disguises.

She’s sweet and cute,
And so beautiful beyond compare.
She’s perfect for cuddles and hugs,
And I love her nose, ears, and hair.

To be honest I love it all,
Though I might favor her freckles.
I’m proud to say this pixie-like beauty is mine,
The one and only Grace Sprinkles.
Written 9-8-14
Dec 2014 · 417
All Of Them
Shyanna Ashcraft Dec 2014
The wind howls,
Calling out in an icy scream.
You look down at your frozen feet,
Watching as your teardrops freeze.
They’ve done this,
It’s their fault.
This is what they wanted,
Isn’t it?

The metal beneath you creaks.
Cars drive by undeterred.
Who would care, anyhow?
About a person like you?
Thinking back, you can hear them.
Their voices crowing out loud.
“Ugly.” “Stupid.” “Worthless.”
“**** yourself.”
They don’t like you; they don’t care.

Your parents won’t notice,
You think that, anyway.
Will your mom be worried?
When she goes into your room,
Like she always does,
To check on you at night.

Will she tell your dad?
Will he call your friends?
Will he panic as he tries to find his child?

Your friends will be fine.
Your best friend will replace you.
She/he will find some else to talk to.
But, will they be able to tell them everything?
All the things they’d only told you?
The things they were only comfortable talking to you about?
Would they find someone else?
Surely they would- Maybe.

You’re the oldest sibling.
Who will your baby brother/sister look up to?
Will they ever be able to be close-
As close as they were to you-
To anyone again?

Or, you’re the youngest.
Will your older sibling feel as if they’ve-
They haven’t-
Failed you?
Will they blame themselves?

All of them.
Will they blame themselves?

You look back at your numb feet,
Then, you look out over the water,
And then,
If only for them,
You take a step back.
You climb back down.
Written 9-8-14
Dec 2014 · 700
A Poetic Color
Shyanna Ashcraft Dec 2014
There’s something poetic about the color red.
The irony in its symbols.
The way the representations clash.
Red; some think of love.
Red; others think of danger,
Of hatred.
Or, really,
Red is a metaphor in itself.
As it does,
In fact,
Represent love and danger.
Love can be dangerous

Roses are red.
Many think them to be beautiful.
People also see the devil as red.
Many assume him to be ugly and intimidating.
Red is not a discriminating color.

The American flag has red.
Red can mean freedom.
Red can mean good.
The ****’s used the color red.
Red can be a cage.
Red can be evil.

Red is like people,
Human, but not all the same.
Some are black and some are white.
Some are in between.
Some are gay and some are straight.

Humans are like red.
Some are good and some are evil.
Some love and some hate.
Some are dangerous and some aren’t.
All this in one species.
All this in red.
Red is,
Sort of,
A Poetic Color.
Written 9-8-14
Dec 2014 · 1.1k
A Happy Human Being
Shyanna Ashcraft Dec 2014
I’m a happy human being.
There’s a smile on my face.
And my heart is quietly singing,
I’m dancing in my place.
It’s a tune that’s all my own.
My dreams are all in color,
And have joyful, merry tones.
There’s really just no other,
No one’s happier than me.
My life’s the most perfect thing,
It’s wonderful, don’t you see?
For I’m a happy human being.
Written 9-18-14
Dec 2014 · 1.2k
A Kiss
Shyanna Ashcraft Dec 2014
I can warm your heart,
I can speed it up.
Like a waitress with her cart,
I can fill your cup.
I can come in two’s,
Or in fours.
I can come with a red hue,
Or with a passionate core.
Do they love you?
I’ll let you know,
When I’m through,
You’ll surely glow.
I show that people care,
I’m perfect for saying “goodnight,”
I’m always going to be there,
When holding your lover tight.
I’m perfect,
Please, know this.
I am no defect,
I’m a kiss.
Written 9-18-14
Dec 2014 · 1.6k
A KillJoy Never Really Dies
Shyanna Ashcraft Dec 2014
The crowd watches, crying silently.
Three figures gather around a black coffin with a red trim.
They all lay a gentle hand on top the shining surface.
Tears fall down their faces, not for the first time.
They all move to their rightful places on the stage, the fallen brother in the center.
They start playing a set, dedicated to the Killjoy the world though would never die.
As the first note to “Welcome to the Black Parade” is heard, people begin to break down.
They play the cheerful songs as well, though they aren’t as much.
They’re crying as the memories of life with him swim through their heads.
“NaNaNa,” plays in a slower way.
More of a painful cry for the moment.
They struggle on, through the songs, each remembering how it felt to play together as a family.
Each feeling that it’s different now, it’s not whole.
And as the last song came to be played, they all remembered their band’s last concert.
People became hysterical, as “Famous Last Words” plays on.
Citizens across the globe cry, as they say goodbye to their hero.
And as they all watch the casket being lifted and carried down the aisle and to the hearse, they all, united as one being, whisper quietly, “…so long and goodnight…so long…and goodnight…”
And as people all around hug each other in a desperate attempt to comfort and be comforted,
One person smiles.
He’s there, though they cannot see.
He wipes their tears away, though they cannot feel.
He tells them, “It’ll be okay,” “He’s here,” and “They’ll see him soon.”
They do not hear.
But deep inside they know he’s there,
Smiling bitter-sweetly as he wipes their tears,
Hugging them, as he whispers words of comfort,
Because they all secretly know,
That a Killjoy Never Really Dies.
Written 10-26-24

— The End —