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As she descended the castle stairs, on her body were a thousand vicious glares. Through the multitude blew a silent gust, and she didn't know it was filled with lust. She saw charming faces but hidden were their fangs, and she couldn't possibly hear the dagger clangs. Thirsty wolves under the hides of men, waiting patiently to drag her to their den. Away from the demons stood an ugly beast, only on the blue moonlight he would feast. With the heart of a lion but skin of a bear, to look at his face, you would never dare. A burst of golden glow brighter than the moonlight, spread all over the hall and rushed into his eyesight. To see a goddess on earth he was surprised, he hid behind the curtains for he was despised. Looking back at the moon he remembered her words true, "I would **** myself than be married to you." Seeing another wolf put a ring on her finger, he tries to erase her thoughts that still linger. The fairytales you've read aren't true anymore, neither are the morals that they once bore. The beauty isn't for the beast today, it is for the charming wolves to slay.
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Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 7:51 AM UTC
The beauty isn't for the beast...
With a storm swirling in his chest, he lights the day's first cigarette. A fog of smoke on the path of his quest, he breaths it like the pain he can't forget. The world sees only the fire from his matchsticks, but there's another flame soaring in his heart. He closes himself inside walls made of bricks, the guilt he puffed tasted like **** He quivers recalling his loss unrecoverable, agitated on himslef and his love forgotten. Like a wounded horse confined to it's stable, his conscience seems to have rotten. This story of "a smoker" woud have been a bit longer, If he would have enjoyed playing a trumpet. Dreaming about the love he never got from her, he lights his last cigarette.
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Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 2:27 PM UTC
His Last Cigarette...
This time tomorrow, the birds would go mute. As their castles would disappear, being cut down root to root. This time tomorrow, heaven would unveil it's wrath. Your breath will grow heavier, none would figure out the math. This time tomorrow, nickels would outrun humanity. Killing each other to pay your bills, selling fresh flesh and assuring quality. This time tomorrow, you won't have a mother. You dare not wish for a sister, for her to be dead is what they prefer. This time tomorrow, would you let a flower wither? Would you be the silver lining? Or would you just sit and wonder?
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Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 5:03 AM UTC
This time tomorrow...
I'm simply ferried away, by gusts of her fagrance. And left with nothing to say, When she smiles with elegance. I'm stunned utterly blind, By the glitter in her eyes. Her beauty of a different kind, Which every man would fantasize. I see her shiny silky hair, touching her tender red lips. As a long sweet hour skips, I would not flinch to stare. Will she ever advert a peasant's love? For she is to be someone's queen. If I were a knight in a silver armor, What would have the difference been?
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Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
If I were a knight...
She bore my weight with a smile, And didn't even flinch for a while. She kept me close to her heart, And prepared me for a new start. She gave me a part of her soul, And fed me love in a golden bowl. She taught me to stand up strong, And to discern right from wrong. She cleaned my wounds with tears, And saved me from all my fears. She loves me for reasons unknown, And never made me feel alone. She found me heaven, I thought was lost, I was uncertain of what it would cost. No angel or God is greater than her, With all the love I have, I call her "Mother"..
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Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
She found me heaven...
Under the bright blue sky, See me walk towards my pleasant dreams. I wish for wings to fly, Aiming for the bursting sun beams. Leaving behind the cold dark days, I take steps towards tomorrow. Watching life's tragic plays, I act of knowing no sorrow. Boards with unknown names of places, Appearing at crossroads. I see many unknown frowns and faces, And try to decipher puzzles and codes. Set on a journey to nowhere land, Walking on a path that does not end. Holding no maps in my hand, Meet me and I'll say, "I'm a traveller my friend"...
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Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 2:28 PM UTC
A Traveller...
Listen to the drops of rain, Embracing the warm soil. Falling gently from heaven, Around the mountains they coil. Listen to the light, Sung from the Sun's heart. The melodies flowing everywhere, Shining on God's art. Listen to the trees whisper, Answering life's questions. Pleading to let live, Praying to change your perceptions. Listen to the time passing, Healing all that has decayed. Teaching you forgiveness, Accepting all that was delayed. Listen to him in the mirror, Sobbing in greif and despair. Tangled in hesitation, Picking up pieces beyond repair. Listen to the lost conscience, Calling out and pleading. Break the chains and rise up, Save your soul that's bleeding.
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Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 5:37 AM UTC
Listen...
Sitting by the window seat, Holding a velvet guitar case. His heart beats heavier with defeat, And tears rain on his barren face. He watches the road that's left behind, And the smiles that make him cry. The soulless bodies make him remind, He made a choice of not saying goodbye. Of all the things he saw in a dream, The most he craved for love. Then the clouds let out a gentle stream, And drenched her photo in his glove. Holding his broken red porcelain pieces, The guitarist walks alone. Over and over his heartache increases, Over and over his hate has grown.
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Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 6:53 AM UTC
The Guitarist...
With stains of poverty embedded on her gown, She stood glazing at me with shining eyes wearing a frown. A wave of empathy reached the shore of my heart, Seeing her reluctant wrinkled face I questioned God's art. Does she deserve this fate that compels her for alms, Or does she deserve knowledge on her tender palms? And then I saw a heap of books with papers black and white, Meant for the little ones to flood them with colours bright. All day long she ran around till her feet would burn, She traded them to quench her thirst with the other paper in return. Into the shadows she slipped away counting every dime, Nazia was that little girl's name and we shall meet some other time.
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Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 4:57 AM UTC
That little girl...
The way her eyes play with my mind, And God said, "she's a different kind". A deep ocean lies in her hair, Where I drown in just a stare. Like the mellow strings of a guitar, Her music flows to lands afar. When drops of rain lay on a rose, I dream ecstatically of holding her close. I fear of my arms being empty, But my broken heart feels guilty. I gave my soul for her to rule, But she uses it merely as a tool. Time turned everything upside down, Compelled my smile to become a frown. I'm now just a petty attraction for her, To be worthy of love might take forever.
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Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 5:46 AM UTC
Worthy of Love...
Hundreds of haunting memories, Of the times I've left behind. Essays and summaries, About the life that's been unkind. Places and faces I've seen, Some good while some were mean. Everything written on white paper, Now has vanished into sky like vapour. Lessons learned from mistakes, Saving myself from deep lakes. Black ink flooded the blank pages, It felt like my heart's inside cages. With tears I erase the past, But hide them from the world. Neither the pages nor the pain exist, Of "the diary I burned".
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Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC
The Diary I Burned...