Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
My castle is crumbling like it was made out of sugar.
Was I really such an ineffective ruler?
Everything never seemed good enough always incomplete.
It's falling but at least it's sweet.

I sit on my rusty throne and I realize how ironic this all has been.
Chasing perfection like a sin.
But even that in itself was expected.
That's what happens when you leave your people, your kin unprotected.

Now swordplay and bloodshed rage around me.
Soldiers tripping over lost friends and enemies.
Each side fighting for a cause they think is noble.
Fighting for their humble royal.

They used to love me, they were so proud.
Now they're lost, with out purpose, they stumble around.
Even the ones who hate me look to me as if I have all the answers.
Their eyes never leave mine, they weaken me like a cancer.

Will this mean a new start or a dark age?
Will there be a new leaf, can we turn another page?
What will they do with me now they know my true colors?
Will they mark me as fool and find another to rule?
This is my way of saying that seeking war even for a good cause still brings heartbreak and death.
She is so risque;

She puts his tongue in her mouth

…but not in that way.
What do dreams teach us about the waking life?
That things could be worse.
Or maybe even better.
If time is insignificant in dreams, does that mean it is in real life too?

What does yesterday teach us about tomorrow?
That we should forget.
Or maybe even remember.
If we learn from our mistakes, does that mean we should keep making them?

What does death teach us about life?
That we shouldn’t complain.
Or maybe we should.
If my death were to affect you greatly, does that mean my life must have done the same?
Soaring ever higher- and still climbing,
i look down and instantaneously deciding,
i shant ever return to this crashing bore-
to never see through those eyes,
or breathe any more.
The day my father dies
will be a day like any other.
Only,
he will (finally) have an excuse to not call me
 Dec 2012 Nathan Vienneau
Kiana L
Love is not an emotion for the weak,
To love, you must be strong like a tree.

You must have deep and steady roots,
To keep your “head” in the clouds.

Your bark may fall off,
Leaving you exposed.

You may fall victim to the test of time,
And may tip, or whither.

Like a tree, love starts with one seed,
That grows more and more after time.

Our love is like a tree.
It has fallen in the wood.

No one to rescue it,
It is left there to die and rot.

It falls down in the wood and left,
It will be forgotten.

I have cut our tree, in our wood,
And walked the path leading west.

I leave for greener pastures,
and for a tree that will pass the test.
Pride..
Ego..
I don't need anyone but myself.

Walking around the corner
alone with my shadow.
Listening to the silence
like a deaf and mute with no one to talk to.

I've been in hard times
struggling to survive on my own
with no one to lean on
like a bamboo standing strong.

But each day,
living becomes tougher,
my heart is so severed,
that it couldn't hold on much longer.

Until you came
Giving me new hope,
a reason to live,
a reason to love.

I don't want to alone anymore,
I just want to be with you always.
Please stay by my side.
 Dec 2012 Nathan Vienneau
Anon C
Hand lifted in anger*
Then I realized it doesn't matter
 Dec 2012 Nathan Vienneau
Anon C
Alas, the irony
what you think you want
you do not really
it dances in your face
bathed in passionate flame
and yet rejected it is
instead you seek to follow
that which would cause you harm
take the needle
stick it deeper in your vein
let yourself feel the lies
coursing through you like fire
you keep feeling this, the burn
it is what makes you feel alive
to be broken and beaten down
you must like to be abused
over and over you find yourself spitting
at that which offers you a hand
and letting the devil lead you instead
we should all just drain one another
let us pass each other by
let us all be masochists
I am you. I am confused.
Next page