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I can't function without you, so how about I make us equals and see how this all works out. Get closer, take away the barriers.. Together we'll divide and conquer, and soon, add our adventures to the greatest romance stories ever told. Noah_arkenswagg
There was a man, A woman an Old man a boy and a little girl in a house. The man, boy, Old man and woman built the house from scratch for themselves, oh yes and perhaps with the little girl in the back of his mind. A pipe burst, the little girl was startled. “Shouldn’t you go fix that?” The man smiled, “Don’t worry, the repairman will be here. Others are so quick to work on problems!” Soon a tree began to creak outside, the girl was startled. “Shouldn’t we get insurance just in case that falls on our house? Even as the tree leans towards us?” The Woman smiled, “It will surely fall somewhere else, we are a unique case!” Then, the oven caught fire. The little girl was startled, “Shouldn’t we extinguish the flames?” The Old man smiled, “I’ve been through worse. It will blow over!” Finally, the roof crumbled on the second floor. The girl, startled said, “Shouldn’t we repair the roof we have over our heads?” The Boy smiled, “My step dad will pick me up and I won’t be here for this so why should I care for those not coming?” The little girl terrified ran out the house. To finish it off, the house sunk in the ground with everyone else inside of it. It was the only house. The repair man wasn’t enough to fix it, the tree still fell on the house, even through worse the house was gone as the problems built up, and the Step dad either didn’t exist or was too late. The little girl cried,
For she wished to have her family in the house. But those who built the house thought not of her.
Sorry for the late upload, I was on vacation. Anyways, this is a poem about people who avoid the problems at hand. Well, Prose story. I did a lot of those in the past.
Supa 1d
They call me evil
I’m Superman’s little punching bag
Golden Eye’s shooting range
Anyone look at it from my view
Suicide Squad was a joke
It didn’t represent the struggle of a villian
The struggle of my life
And everything around it
Let’s start with a story
I was a ***** baby on the street
Momma shooted ****** 10 inches deep
She overdosed when I was 13
And my daddy was a good man
But I was messed up
He paid for my school
But I was hit and bullied
Cried to my dad but he didn’t care
He left me in the streets when I was 17
Why’d you do that old man
He couldn’t handle me and all my problems
So he ran away
Every job, every college
Turned me down like an illegal
Like I committed some sort of crime
I learned technology myself
Sometimes stealing books from the local library
That is how my evil started
But all my knowledge on tech accumulated
Until I was something more bigger than myself
I stole parts from the tech store
I trained myself to be a kung fu demigod
With a side of overpowered
And a pinch of passion
I built a robot
And my goal was to get revenge
On the people who doubted me
And all the people who hated me
And destroy them all
I killed them
Every owner
Every bully
I squashed with my robot
And then those heroes came along
At the peak of my hour
And that is when my head was out of the clouds
And it came back to reality
I presented my case
But they wouldn’t listen
So now I am here
In state prison
This is the villians view
The side of story no one sees
Every wonder the villians side of the story?
Max 2d
Well I'm like a weird book,

With pages unnumberd
And stories not told.
With a cover that's bended and not carefully folded.
Send this to a friend a while ago..
Dive past the splash page,
let's melt with the inkstains.
It's Autumn, the heat fades.
               The tale
          is unfolding fast

Now turn past the last page
of last time. We'll retrace
the panels, their contents
               you cried.
          But was it canon?

               Play this night here
                         as it lays.
               Place bets on you--
          we've both debts unpaid.
       Wasted time to redeem today
                       And I'd say...
               We're onto something.

                 ­         Rust
                             off iron hearts
                         to rewrite our days.

I've got a feeling--
Let hopes ride; no sure thing.
The voices from downtown,
               they blend--
          a thousand songs sung.

The wind and the trees whisper,
"Encapsulate this
moment. It's flawless."
               It's art.
          And I'm past falling.

               Play this night here
                         as it lays.
                  My bet's on you--
          we've both debts unpaid.
       Wasted time to redeem today
                       And I'd say...
               We're onto something.

                 Read the writings
                       on the page.
                 The story's drawn
                and the panels laid.
       Waste no ink on departed shades,
                       as they say.
               We're onto something.

                 ­         Rust
                             off iron hearts
                         to rewrite our days.
Commemorating 9/20/2017
My mind's drifting further
back to the memories we had
when I was yours
and you are mine
the time we said " I love you"
under the midnight sky
the time we were under those
shady tree and secretly kissed
Our story
it was like the stories told by those
television romance
we watched before
it was so magical it made me blind
blinded by our blossoming love
Back then I was a blind maiden
smoothened with your touch
is all it takes for me
to melt in your arms
yet, I was a fool to believe
that forever was for us
Our story
it was a foul play of fate
we were not destined together
and it broke our hearts to pieces.
Sonya 5d
A freezing cold temper
And a heart made of gold
Born with the winter
Her mask is quite bold

A silent soft slumber
And an emerald soul
Born with the summer
Her mask has a hole

An ego does splinter
With words that are bold
Blade right down the center
And hands become cold

Of golden and umber
And flowers of coal
The somber newcomer
Plays a princess' role

The dance of the masquerade
Of flowers both living and dead
Cold hands of she who has prayed
Take up joyous dance instead
Talis Ren 19h
please don’t read
over a poet’s shoulder
if there is ink on their hands

those are not lines;
they are stories and secrets -

a grave misstep
to destroy the meaning
of hidden
...For tomorrow we die, the world is ending tomorrow! They said as we all knew the end was coming. Beds were set, drinks were made and billions spent. Many items or things to cherish by our side to mourn or to forget ourselves for the end was now. We brought the end on ourselves internal and external. We eat the last dinner as we mourn what we will lose through the masks of alcohol like medicine to ease our pain. Everyone was sad inside but they feared the worst. Lamb and Dove was the dish, others thought it quite fitting for the finale of us. “Sure, will miss you guys.” Said a half-drunk friend. “Well I really don’t think it will all end.” “No why did we do this to ourselves we were fools!” “I bet if we give it sacrifice it will stop.” “I won’t see my son rise from cancer only to die officially. He made it so far!” “We will die we deserve it, our nature requires it.” Everyone said their goodbyes, sat on a balcony watching, having one last guilty pleasure upstairs, being drunk or mourning it. We had our chance, we disputed against our own and now the debt that we borrowed from this planet will be repaid, our signs will disappear our symbols faded and new things will rise, I’m not sad, just embracing the emptiness. Happily, as it all ends and everything disappears back into the nothing.
Just a prose story about the end of the world. Talking about grief
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