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AlphaShadowK Nov 2015
and yet, to this day
i can’t find the words to describe him
he existed; from pure magic, i suppose
he just became himself, and his brother was there too
they knew each other before the world knew them;
and they never needed words to communicate
they knew they were brothers
nobody had to tell them, there would be no need
they already knew
they already knew the years of childhood they had been through together
they already knew the hardships they faced in the past
even if they weren’t real, even if those years of childhood and hardship
didn’t exist, they knew they were real to them.
yes, somehow – they knew
they knew they were to be together, through the times of the underground
the apparition of themselves just came to be one day
and so, they did
they existed, suddenly
they bonded, suddenly
and their story started there,
together.
that was their first day, together.  
now this is their last.
it wouldn’t be known to them,
but it would be soon.
because he wouldn’t be there
when he returned from his duties
he wouldn’t be there
and he wouldn’t ask to do any chores
because he wouldn’t be there
and he never would be again.
no, he isn’t just late
no, he isn’t lost
he just couldn’t manage to stumble back home.
even with the strength he had
it wasn’t enough
it would never be enough against that thing’s…
determination.
no, it would never be enough
to just survive for just one more day
it wouldn’t be enough if he just barely made it out
at the very last moments, he wouldn’t be able
to say goodbye to his only brother
because until the moment he was struck with the final cast
he had no recollection of the evil deeds this creature had done
he had no knowledge of the spree for blood
this creature had desired.
this creature longed for bloodlust
but would not find any from him.
he does not bleed, but he does weaken
but weaken is not blood,
and with no blood there is no satisfaction.
so with that final blow
he was gone
and he would never return
to his brother
waiting at home
hoping he said
he loved his brother
the morning he left.
been playing undertale and I hadn't posted this here. pretty proud of it.
AlphaShadowK Feb 2015
the stains trickling down the edges of his lips
a straight face remaining
a dreaded corpse
begging to see
blood evident everywhere
hair creeping out in places
ears tucked back neatly
expressionless still
lacking movement
fear seeping into the environment
death and life remains unknown
symmetrical in every sense
cloth removing simple vision
steady and calm
quiet elegancy
graceful in thought
until death once more.
There was a photo of Markiplier with a blood-stained cloth around his eyes and an unsettling persona entirely, and I knew that I needed to describe it somehow. Searching up "Darkiplier" on google should give you the picture I was describing.
AlphaShadowK Feb 2015
you know that feeling
when you're on the train
and you see other people
that you might recognize
and they might recognize
you
yeah, that feeling
when you get to see
what they truly look like
when they're in the public eye
and you are too
what do you do
when people stare
do you run
do you scream
or maybe you
take flight
or you fight
as they say
like the deer do
or don't
because that works too
they might look scared
but you might too
they might look angry
but you might too
they might come close
but you might too
they might come closer
but you might too
but they mustn't do that
and you mustn't either
because that would ruin
the entire atmosphere
and it doesn't work
when the glass
is broken
and finally
broken
through
the
barrier
of
not
being
friends
I saw a person I knew from school on the train the other day. As the poem suggests, we weren't friends, and we had never talked. He had a troubled look on his face, and I just wanted to say something or ask if he was okay, or if he needed anything. But I couldn't do anything because my anxiety knew that we weren't friends, and fate had it put out for me that we would probably never be friends. So, I wrote this shortly after.
AlphaShadowK Feb 2015
Sparkled water is terrible.
It doesn't work well with meals
Or with my taste buds
It doesn't work well with anything.
If I just added some syrup
And turned it to pop
It would be wonderful,
Not terrible, no more.
My friend told me to make a poem about sparkled water, even though, as the title suggests, I personally think it's terrible.
AlphaShadowK Feb 2015
If one were to ask
If we were to be
Maybe Shakespeare would shake his head
Or nod calmly as if nothing mattered
Because, it's often quoted
But that doesn't make it true.
Even Will himself
Can't give us an answer
But if I were to guess,
We wouldn't have to ask that question
In the first place
Because I'd already know
That the answer is yes,
It's to be, and it is fated by the stars
From the start, yes I knew
It doesn't have to be complicated
But I suppose if you'd like
We can give it some deeper meaning
Even if it doesn't need one
Because all I know
Is that you're the one,
And it's definitely to be.
Not even sure. But this is quite interesting.

— The End —