Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Driven by animal instincts
Reminds me yet again
I can no longer daydream
I am no longer human
I forgot the different colours of the leaves
I cannot dream this nightmare away
I cannot see colour in darkness
In the moonlight, they all look the same
I can run faster, I can jump higher
Even then, I cannot escape
I am stuck in the world of the living
An endless, ageless fate
I belong on the other side
I naively hoped the afterlife was better
But dying was more peaceful than this
I didn't choose the path to forever
Kat Herondale Oct 2014
Caged.
I feel Caged, your on every side of my body.
Leave me alone!
Don't touch me!
God please help! stop him!
Go away!
I don't need you!
Get- Get away!
STOP-
I Shot up, sweat covering every bit of my body, I look around, shocked.
It was just a dream.
You smile at my now sleeping figure and jump from my window seal.
Is Jonathan stalking Clary?
Shruti Atri Jul 2014
fiction: the figment of a great writer's imagination.

the words, ink on plain paper;
feeble in their existence,
tell me to be *fierce
 and compassionate.
to have something to love,
more deeply than any being is capable of;
to try...
so that there is something my soul will reside in,
which is not me,
something I can face a fight to death for...


they are not only books.
they are the silent teachings learnt by these authors,
living through hardships.
they are metaphors,
symbols of lessons to be applied in our lives.
their passion, their wounds, living inside of their words;
they speak to us readers,
in their meek mild voices;
to hope,
to have faith,
to believe in something someone beyond ourselves,
to be human in the face of impossibilities,
eve­n through difficult dark times,
to be humble in the face of success­,
to ride our dragons into oblivion,
to hunt them down and slay them like wolves,
to never­ give up...



*'Winter is coming'
'We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, but battle on.'
'Do or do not. There is no try.'
'A hero can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as he has the nerve.'
'You endure what is unbearable, and you bear it.'
'If you have the soul of a warrior, you are a warrior.'
'We will not just be another piece in their games.'
'Fear doesn't shut you down. It wakes you up.'
'Old things are better than new things, because they've got stories in them.'
'Not all those who wander are lost.'
'We accept the love we think we deserve.'
'Grief does not change you. It reveals you.'
'This is my family. I found it all on my own. It's little and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.
this is what fantasy has given me:
imaginary heroes,
imaginary victims,
imaginary villains.
all with different stories,
all lessons for life and love,
in a kaleidescope of metaphors and symbols.
a hundred thousand shades of vibrant colors,
instead of white or black.
Mik Josefchuk Jun 2014
HE'S LIKE A LION
FIERCE, UNPREDICTABLE
ARROGANT, PROTECTIVE
OBSERVED AND STARED AT
BECAUSE HE'S MAJESTIC; BEAUTIFUL
BUT CAGED
HIS STRONG SPIRIT AND SELFLESS WILL IS RUINED
HE'S DIFFERENT NOW
SHORT-TEMPERED, UNSURE
THE KING OF THE JUNGLE IS GONE
REPLACED BY A ZOO'S "BEAST"
AN ATTRACTION

HE'S LIKE A LION
WITH WILD BLUE EYES AND A SUNKISSED MANE
BEAUTIFUL CURLS AND AN INTELLIGENT FACE
HIS EYES HELD A MILLION STORIES
TO BE TOLD IN THE DARKNESS
WHILE HE WATCHES OVER HIS LIONESS
ONLY HIMSELF, GOD, HIS BELOVED, AND THE STARS
FINALLY FEELING AT HOME, IN CHARGE

HE'S LIKE A LION
MAGNIFICENT, STRANGE
I'M GOING TO RELEASE HIM
BACK TO THE WILD
BEFORE HE DESTROYS HIMSELF
A BEAUTIFUL LION
TRAPPED
IN A CAGE
So in the Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare, Clary always compares Jace to a lion. I made a connection to that with my "Jace", and here we go.
Sophia Adelle Apr 2014
“This Bitter Language

I know your streets, sweet city,

I know the demons and angels that flock

and roost in your boughs like birds.

I know you, river, as if you flowed

through my heart.

I am your warrior daughter.

There are letters made of your body

as a fountain is made of water.

There are languages

of which you are the blueprint

and as we speak them

the city rises.”


― Elka Cloke
Not mine. All rights go to Elka Cloke

— The End —