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Even in the Storm, Leave the Light On"But it's a quarter to..!!"
"I DON'T CARE!!" shrieked an angry lamp Oddject. "I don't CARE what time it is!"
"How can you not care about the time?!" The blue clock man screeched.
"I'll tell you somethin' pal!" spat Liam, "The sun tells me what time it is! The sun has told time since before it even began!!"
Tony opened his mouth to blurt a comeback, but nothing was coming out.
"I'm right aren't I?!" He sneered, "You know I'm right! I don't need your bloody clocks and wristwatches! I know damn well what the time is!"
Tony's left eye twitched.
"Fine, fine! Whatever! You're right! Now go away!" He waved his gloved hand dismissively.
"I will!" Liam shouted and stormed outside, slamming the door so hard, the house rattled.
Perched outside on the front stoop, Francine reclined lazily against the threshold. Her eyes had been shut in a light nap, but they snapped open when she felt the tremor caused by Liam's door-slamming rage.
She sat herself up when he stalked onto the porch.
Liam pulled a s
Consequences of Our Actions"It's a horrible process, a horrible experience, and more often than not, a horrible outcome."
Was that a lie?
It very well could've been.
After what happened with her?
He didn't even want to think about trying it on anyone else.
All he remembered was the white hot flash of pain, the shriek and the promise.
The promise to never do it ever again.
"Memories make you into who you are. If you lose yours, you'll change. I don't want you to change, you're my friend. You're perfect as you are."
He was too afraid to admit that to himself at the time. He was a coward. Burned an empty hole into her mind, just to save his own skin.
A horrible process.
He remembered how she paled and cried and begged for him not to. She wept and wailed and told him over and over she'd stay quiet.
Oh, how it hurt him to see her that way.
But he couldn't bear it.
The whites in her eyes turned towards him as it he and all their talks and jokes and arguments faded away from her memor
Just Relaxa boy was crying at his desk.
A tall man with narrow shoulders loomed over him like a shadow
"FIX IT." he bellowed, jamming a finger to the boy's head.
"I'm t-trying...!!" he whispered through his tears.
"You call that FIXING?! You're making it worse!"
"You pathetic excuse for a child!"
The man raised a hand to strike the boy.
Ender jolted awake with a sharp breath. He sat up in bed so violently, he nearly tumbled out of the sheets. Beads of cold sweat trickled down his temples and the back of his neck.
His room was dead silent. The only thing to be heard was his heart hammering against his chest. His breaths were shaking and shallow.
What a nightmare...
Ender thought he'd pushed those memories out.
But no, his subconscious had brought them back to the surface.
The eraser curled up into a ball, his head between his knees. He gripped his hair as his shoulders still jerked with trembles.
After a moment, he relaxed and slowly pushed his legs over th
It Never RainsThe day was hot.
It was long.
It was boring
“Dammit!” whined Floyd, “I hate summer. There’s nothing to do. NOTHING.” She flopped down on the couch, resting her head in the lap of her companion, Haley. Haley glanced down from the game of Angry Birds on her palm and cocked an eyebrow. “How can you hate summer?”
“And it never rains!”
"And I feel like I'm meltiiinnngggg..."
Haley huffed and blew a strand of hair from her eyes. "Stop being a whiny bitch."
The guitar laughed. "We could go hit up the town."
“Floyd, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“Think we’ll meet Courage?”
Haley snickered. “Dude, how awesome would that be?”
“Sorta. But it’d be even MORE boring, cuz it never fuckin ra-..”
“DID SOMEONE SAY RAIN?”
Gardening (SkarrxReader)You are walking through the streets
of that one neighborhood. The neighborhood of eerie, discolored slums that the few odd residents called home.
From the slanted roofs to the crackling walls, you don't consider this place a family-friendly environment.
You stroll along the sidewalk, finally coming to what you call a sight for sore eyes.
Poking out like a rose among thorns is a tidy, fit lawn, green as can be. The house isn't the finest, but then again, none of them are. You cross the lawn and lean over the wooden picket fence that encircles the back courtyard. Sure enough, the first thing you see amongst the mass of flora is a brown sunhat bobbing along the tomato plants.
You watch a bit longer until the owner of the sunhat appears through the small thicket of vines and buds. He notices you, looking only a bit surprised at first, but offers a small wave with his gloved hand.
"Greetings!" he calls, "Lovely day, isn't it?"
You wave back and nod. "Mmhm. Not a cloud in the
Perfectly Fine- part 1 The sky was a charcoal grey, the clouds swirling and swirling and stewing up a thunderstorm. It was humid and sticky, and a young girl named Florence Francine McFloyd was trying desperately to beat the rain. She was sleep-deprived and her empty stomach was a hollow pit of grumbling lions.
The last thing she needed was to be caught in some summer monsoon. The place she had wandered to was vacant squalor. The only thing in sight despite the trees was dirt road that snaked down the middle of a thick wood that stood like a stage curtain on either side. Rain would turn the dusty dirt into a sludgy pit of mud.
She chose to walk on the left side of the path, lest a speeding car plow her into the dust before she could blink. This was her...let's see...first, second, third; third day on the road by herself. She felt rather proud having made it this far without assistance from any adult or guardian. At nine years old as well.
There had been a few nut trees not far from where
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
Pretty metaphors are for pretty girlsI told you to stop
spewing pretty metaphors at me,
for with each elaborate comparison,
I feel a bit more
detached from this world
And maybe I don’t feel so strong at the moment,
but would you be
if you felt like the entire universe
was resting upon your shoulders,
and someone was just there saying:
But you’re stronger than the powerful beats
of a butterfly’s wings
And maybe I do need more confidence,
but would you exuberate it
when the part you hated most about yourself
were the freckles that have speckled your face for years,
and someone was just there muttering:
They’re not flaws,
but rather stars that form constellations
Yes, I can’t help but hate
all those unrealistic metaphors
you choose to pelt at me when I’m low,
yet the irony is,
I know that those beautiful words
are realistic in your eyes,
So I can’t hate you.
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
specter boys have always looked best sinkinghe says,
i want to count all 206 &
feel the notches of your ribs -
i want you, weary boy, to
phase yourself down while
you are burning inside out.
i will seethe inside your skull
like thoughts, like cigarette filters;
you will thank me as i molder in your marrow.
These Faded KeysOf all the keys I click
As we speak each day,
It's the back arrow
That's faded most
These white letters
Would surely tell you,
I reply to everything -
But the key reading "enter"
Will be the one to explain
Why it still looks new
I want you to know
Just how much I care,
But I don't want to be close
Out of the fear of losing you
But please remember:
I dedicate these words to you,
Sharing them to the world
Rather than clicking away
At the faded key ~
CallousedDon't let me go,
I'm afraid of the cold,
The games you've played have gotten old,
The words you say have shriveled and wilted,
The world's lost it's axis,
Round, and round, and round, and round,
A pin drops, but no one's around.
The night crashes down,
Like the vase that you threw,
Did you see the glass shatter?
The blood you drew
As I picked up the pieces.
And ran after you.
Your heart is black, but your hands are gold,
Under the gild, there's crackling coal,
Hardened and calloused, like your heartless soul,
How could I have ever dreamed you were someone to hold?
Drenched in my regret,
And my spirit is sold.
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