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Storm Nov 2014
They say there are butterflies when you see the one you like and or love,
But for that? I call bull.
Where are my tell-tale signs to help me along?
I'm on my own.

My stomach doesn't flutter,
My heart doesn't beat
But perhaps this is a good thing,
For I get to figure it out on my own.

Perhaps as well, this is bad,
Because what if I miss those signs? those symbols?
I'll never know what I'm missing,
And likewise will never know what I would have.

Unfortunately I am not Edgar Allan Poe,
And my tell-tale heart does not beat to help me along in life.
However, the comfort around them while in their presense makes me smile,
And for now? That is enough.
  Oct 2014 Storm
michelle reicks
There’s this beautiful girl at my school
And she smokes a pack a week

And she’s pregnant


She’s got beautiful eyes and that’s all I can see
Her baby will have beautiful eyes too.

And she moans out loud in the lunchroom, “man, I’m going to be so fat in a few months.”


And I swear to god that whenever I see her,
I want to lift up her shirt
and press my cheek against the life beating inside her
and hope that it soaks into my pores
So I can feel something as real as that.

But when I have a baby girl someday
I will love her
Like I love the taste of a grapefruit on hot summer days
I will love her like every ****** I have ever had
I will love her like every prayer I have ever whispered in my car
I will love her like how I miss my dad sometimes

And my baby girl will know that I love her because when I put her on one of those horses on the carousel, I will kiss her hand every time she comes back around to me
and I’ll miss her every second she’s away

And I’m going to teach her so much more than her daddy ever could.



My baby girl’s gonna learn that everybody’s going to die someday
So she should try to meet everyone as soon as possible.

And I’m gonna make sure she never has *** with a person she doesn’t love
But I’m gonna make sure she falls in love every day.


I’ll teach my baby girl to love the way I’ll love her
and then

I’ll love her more every day
until I die or
until I forget whose hands are attached to my wrists.
But I'm sure I’ll remember
when she holds them.
Storm Oct 2014
Oh, my dear underwear
Why must I put you there?
Helping me be all flirty,
Glad you don’t mind getting *****.

Sometimes lacy, what a trip!
Sometimes plain, sometimes ripped,
Sometimes ****, sometimes stained,
You’re just one of everything!

Dearest underwear, your fate is set!
How on Earth do you let
Me go about and use you so carelessly?
Think about it is simply ghastly!

Oh sweet, sweet underwear, you’re the best!
Now go ahead and take a rest.
Go get washed! Go get well,
Before again your use is swell.

Oh my dear underwear, I’m sure you’ll understand
Why I put you there in the end!
To my underwear: the most unappreciated piece of clothing we have of all.
Storm Jul 2013
Why are strangers nicer then the ones you're familiar with?

The ones you grow up with,
Go to school with,
Become friends with.  

Why is it easier to talk to strangers then the ones you know personally?

The ones who know you,
See you every day,
Talk to you face-to-face.

What is the appeal that will make a stranger on the Internet more comforting then friends?

The ones who love you,
Befriend you,
Are physically there for you.

I know why. Possibly better then anyone.

Because in being anonymous, there's secrecy.

And in secrecy we trust.
Some of my best friends have been/are Internet strangers. I find they give more comfort then almost anyone I know personally. Why is that?
Storm Mar 2013
Another year passes,
And the faerie wanders on
Interests change,
Endless pains,
Joyous triumphs,
Amazing days,
All within a year.

Much happens within a year.
Some good,
Some bad,
Some loved,
Some wished to be forgotten.
Each day goes to the building blocks
That ends in a final product: the faerie.

Sixteen years gone,
Many more to go,
Happy birthday my friend.
We love you so!
Happy birthday to my twin! Miss Faerie, have a fantastic year . See ya next birthday :)
Storm Mar 2013
Half full.

Objects fill your glass,
Occupying the space begging to be filled.
Friends, laughter, love,
Everything that's welcomed
Put inside the glass that is you.
Welcome it.
Embrace it.
Love it.

Half empty.

The goodness slowly drains away,
Leaving nothing in its wake.
What is left?
Pain? Suffering? Despair?
An emptiness that simply cannot be fufilled,
No matter how full your glass may seem to you.
It is gone.
Always gone.
Forever.

Not even there.

The glass is either half full or empty.
It cannot be either or,
For that is the way life works.
You cannot have one without the other,
But the way the glass turns out is effected
By the way your life is lived.
Love.
Despair.
Happiness.
Emptiness.
You are the one to decide the fate of your glass.
No one else.
You and you alone.

Look at your glass.
Examine it.
Study it.
For this glass is the gateway to your life.

The choice is yours.
Like usual, I really do not know. Ask my brain where this came from, for I have NO idea. O.o
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