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leeaaun Nov 2023
In the intricate tapestry of love,
the adage "once a cheater, always a cheater"
weaves a cautionary thread.

It is a phrase laden with the weight of experience,
a mantra that whispers of broken trust and shattered vows.

When someone treads the path of betrayal,
leaving the fragments of a once-whole heart in their wake,
the scars run deep.

The echoes of deceit reverberate
in the corridors of love,
leaving those who have been wounded hesitant to trust again.

The notion, "once a cheater, always a cheater," emerges as a defense mechanism,
a shield against the vulnerability of being deceived once more.

Yet, in the realm of love,
the narrative isn't always so black and white.
People evolve, learn from their mistakes, and yearn for redemption.

It's crucial to acknowledge the capacity for change
within each individual.
While the wounds of betrayal may linger,
they need not dictate the course of someone's entire romantic journey.

The human experience is multifaceted, and relationships are complex landscapes.

People stumble, fall, and sometimes, they rise anew, reshaped by the crucible of their own errors.

Love, at its essence, encompasses forgiveness, growth, and the possibility of second chances.

So, while the cautionary phrase carries the weight of wisdom,
it is equally important to recognize the potential for transformation.

People can break free from the chains of their past misdeeds,
learn to value trust, and construct relationships founded on honesty and integrity.

Love, after all, is as much about healing as it is about the initial spark.

In the end the tale of "once a cheater, always a cheater"
is not a universal truth
but rather a reminder that love demands conscientious navigation.

It prompts us to approach relationships with discernment,
to treasure the fragility of trust,
and to foster an environment where growth and change are not only possible but celebrated.
Alex Aug 2023
There was once a weak little sparrow. She has yet to learn to fly, so she fell out of the nest. Little did she know it would keep her alive. In a small stream she drifted on by as the other creatures burned alive, a fire engulfed the forest she once called home. It nipped the edges of the stream burning her wings, as time went by the fire died leaving the entire forest in ash. A lone witch searched the forest with tears in her eyes for any signs of life.
Only to find a lone little bird, barely clinging to life, desperate to survive. So the little witch took the little sparrow home, trying to save its life. Her wings were badly burned, and she would never be able to fly. The witch did what she could and kept the bird alive, but as time went by the sparrow grew sad. Knowing everything was gone, and she was alone as she looked at the burned forest.
Then the little witch had an idea, to try and turn the sparrow human, so they wouldn't feel so alone anymore. She didn't see the agony that would cause the sparrow, and never expected the burn scars would stay. So the little sparrow was turned human, well mostly. The witch has to teach her how to be human, which took many years. Eventually they lived comfortably, enjoying each other's company, but good things never last.
Someone from the nearby village saw the little witch and her small hut. They were suspicious of her, hating anything different from them. They looked disgusted by the other one, the sparrow didn't look like them. Not only that, but they hated the witch and chained the sparrow, forcing her to watch as they burned the witch. They studied the odd girl, wanting to know what she was, why she was different. The torture seemed to never stop, till she finally broke, harnessing the witches power and the life of the ancient forest that was burned. The ancient forest where she was born was burned by the villagers and the magic went into the little sparrow, hoping she would survive.
She went into a fury, slaughtering the village, leaving nothing left of the ones who tortured her, burned her only family alive and destroyed her home. She when she finally calmed, she was on the mountain overlooking the dead forest and decimated village, realizing she was truly alone.
A cute little short story I did for a character backstory
Trefild May 2023
his own & this world's realities are like the fuzz in the States
they're ones to escape
that's a plan of attack that's, on the lines of a wraith
switch side of Jo[ɑ]hnny dang Blaze, running up on his brain
like that Trump ****, today
he feels bold (bald), so maybe there'll be, like abundance of cake
fortune coming his way
["fortis fortuna adiuvat"/"fortune favors the bold"]
this one's a shmuck thing to say, but the club's like Ukraine (what?)
he, like motorized cavalcades
from the next-door empire, invades
its territory causing, like unaccommodating controversial writer, a sla[ɛ]m
as he shuts the door frame
[Eminem; "Unaccommodating" song]
obviously, some people may
find that offensive like armed aggression
so my apologies, I'm somewhat ashamed
mainstream house stuff is on play
a thought in his skull: "this is lame"
Michael S. straight after he turned around & stumbled on blamed
Toby F.; through the crowd he cuts like a blade
[the ending of the "Frame Toby" episode cold open from "The Office" series]
having hopped U̲p on the stage
as if it were a narcotic substance you've ta'en
he, so loud as if with his cullions in grave
nU̲t-wrenching pain, bawls "THIS ****** *****!" like a brace
of thigh highs colored with stains of blood; yanderE̲[eɪ]
[*****; so[ɑ]cks]
schoolgirl; disgruntled, he makes for the f#cking DJ
delivers a verbal punch in his face by the fo[ɑ]llowing phrase
"go house-sit with your confounded
boring house sh#t, like a housewyf"
whereafter thrusts him away
rounding the assault off with "ciao, drip!"
music-wise, it's gon' go hard as nuts in this place
as if a flock of ones who're deranged
["who're" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "whoor"]
swung by a club in the wake of a ****** **[ɑ]spital break (nuts in this place)
he puts on midtempo dark cyberpunky synthwave
Gesaffelsteinish mid-paced
type of music; that's what drives his crumpet insane
speaking of crumpets, he spots a buxomish babe
while keep rocking his **** nut to this cray
music, he feels like a **** being aimed
at for she stands with her sight, like one of a gun, fixed his way
for a few secs, at each other they gaze (call it eye fool–ing around)
she's quite a fox with her vibrant locks
reminding of flame; somebody call a fire brigade
hourglass-shaped & rigged out in tight pa[ɛ]nts & a blouse
with a U̲-neck, like a male without
*****, & leaving her waist a bit out
on display; he makes his way to/makes for that frau
salutates her with "ciao", then, in a shake, he enoun–
–ces: "babe, you're way like a house
for lodging that's nowhere to be found
that is, in the deep of a labyrinth"
she's like "what in the void's name's this about?"
he replies "I'ma translate that one now"
"you look amazing, ten out
of ten" like that "KleanColor" skin bro[ɑ]nzer
[a maze inn; "Tan Out Of Tan"]
she makes a slight smile
says "aren't you nice with this 𝒷ℴ𝒸𝒸𝒶 of Y̲O̲U̲rs when it
comes to venting the skull?"
he asks this glorious bI̲rd if she
fa[ɛ]ncies this sound
she chirps an affirmative
says she, mostly, faves underground
in terms of music; they vibe
to these tunes being pU̲t on, just like (who?)
that loony gobshite the whole liberal community'd like
to see wind up ruined just like
Aleppo or Mariupol; stop, I'd
like, before the main telling resumes, to rewind
a little: they vibe to these beats being put on; he finds
out, when asking her what drinkable fluid she'd like
to have, that she deems it uncool to imbibe (*****)
he replies "to tell you the truth, so do I"
so if there's somebody to end up lit during this night
it is the moon in the sky
[some body]
after having their soft drinks taken, they bounce
like the music style brought into this wO̲rld heaps before chicks twerking
blew into the mainstream like "blaow!"
he's got a whip ordered like a sick pervert
with a kink for power-playing around/dominative kind of playing around
they wait for several mins for it while it's pouring
finally, the motorized conveyance comes out
like a deb girlie
he trails this fox like she's prey to hunt down
watching her proceed to[–]ward it
in a way like she's on a catwalk waving around
a rig splurgy
having hopped in it, to a lodging place they set out
she's soaking wet like she's real *****, yet still hot as if she wE̲re dict–
–ator; the saucy look in her eyes
[haught; verdict]
once his palm is put on her thigh
a sort of luminous sign–
–board reading "absolutely alright
with going on a lewd spree tonight"
"a night out rhyme tale" by TREF1LD (TRFLD) is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (to view a copy of this license, visit
mankind is a old tale
mankind is a old tale of respect
mankind is a wise old tale
mankind is a wise old respect
respect is a wise old respect
respect is a wise old tale of respect
honor of mankind is kindness of mankind

respect is a kindness respect
respect is a kindness old tale of respect
in honor of respect is in honor of mankind
a old tale is a wise old tale
a old tale is a wise old tale of respect
kindness is mankind kindness
kindness is mankind wise old tale

honor is a wise old respect
honor is a wise old tale of respect
honor is kindness of honor
mankind is a honor of mankind
respect honor respect
a wise old tale is respect of a wise old tale
kindness respect kindness‘
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words from the renaissance. for instance words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc... this poem is about a tale is a wise old tale. i don’t add capitalization’s on my writing.
irinia Dec 2022
winter slowly digests me
it's hard to process
standing in the spaces
between the void of pain and
the void of ecstasy
(any void is just the unbearability
of fullness)
no violin can invent
some tears
my eyes not split
searching for
a tree-womb
to shelter my skin
and slow my cells
to the decency
of breathing,
to unearth
the old tale
like an offering
Steve Page Oct 2022
Fairies knit tales, but they don’t have tails, I don’t think.  
Dog’s do.
with an abrupt end – that’s usually moving,
while never escaping its tether.
Is that the idea? – that no matter how far the tail goes,
it will never get out of hand.
Unless it’s docked of course – that is the saddest tail,
a stump of a tail that still tries its best,
but is destined for a short and disappointing end.

If I were a dog without a tail, I think I’d think it was the end of the world.

If I were a fairy without a tale – I would be sadder still.

The End.
Written in response to a poetry group given theme - fairy tales.  Thank you to Amy for the 'end of the world' line which I've misapplied.
experience is experience of a skill set
to tell of a experience is to tell of a skill set
to tell a tale of a experience is to tell a tale of a skill set
a tale of experience is a tale of a skill set
a skill set is a set of skill
a set of skill is a set of a player’s skill
a player’s skill is a player’s set of skill

to tell a tale is to tell a player’s experience
a player’s experience is a tale of a player’s experience
a player is a player’s tale of experience
telling is telling of a tale
a tale is telling of a tale
a tale is a player’s tale
tell is telling of a player’s tale

wishing is wishing a tale
wishing is wishing a player’s tale
wishing is wishing of a telling tale
wishing is wishing of a telling experience
to wish is to tell a tale
to wish is to tell a telling tale
a tale is a tale of a wishing tale
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words from the renaissance. for instance words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc... this poem is about a wish is a wish of a telling experience. i don’t add capitalization’s on my writing.
luna Mar 2022
i am someone's story. in one person's tale, i am the girl who plays the role of the comic relief. the one who makes people laugh and smile, as well as providing humor. in one another person’s storyline, i am the main lead, bringing to life all of those desired characteristics. in another's eyes, i may be the wise sage who gives guidance at critical stages in their lives. however, when i stop to think about it, i find that i am the antagonist in someone else's plot. the bad guy, to be precise. and no matter how hard i try to change my ways, the reality is that i am who i am to them, and in certain situations, there is nothing i can do to change it. in their book of life, i am the arrogant evil villain.

but then you came. everything changed when you walked into my life out of nowhere. you appeared in my life like a shooting star and filled my heart with bliss. and i've never felt safer or vibrant than i do when i'm around you. not once in my life have i felt so alive. it seemed as if you were unveiling new layers of greatness to me with each passing moment. i've never seen that much gentleness in a lone soul before. in the shadows, you were gently carving out a space for yourself in my heart without me even realizing it.

you embraced my grief as if it were your own and showed me love as no one else ever could. everytime i felt like i was on the verge of falling, you stayed with me. when i was weak, you were my pillar of support. when i needed someone to weep on, you were there for me. because of your smile, i was able to make my existence on this planet worthwhile. for a long time, it seemed impossible to feel so connected to someone. however, it is quite simple to feel intertwined with you. i can't tell you how good it makes me feel. i've began to realize that i had no idea what it felt like to be truly loved until i met you.
we're the villain in soneone else's story but there's only person who can make you feel the essence of being a main character of the story.
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