rabaetson

Said the white snake to his red brother "When is wine a different color?" "In the sunset or the twilight," said the fairer, "And in the morning it's no rarer." "But that is not to say," said he, "For each and other, that is all that's wont to be, "So do not heed these few words of mine. "Kindly note what is mine is thine."

I tried to write a poem, I tried to make it good. ... (hmm... where to go?) I tried to write a poem, I tried to make it good, but when I sat down to write it... (yes? no.) I tried to write a poem, I tried to make it good, But before I even stopped to think I had to get some food (what? That only rhymes in theory!) I tried to write a poem, I tried to make it good, But when I try to think about you- (comes out like an insult) I tried to write a poem, I tried to make it good, But everytime I think about you- (Sidetrack not apparent) I tried to write a poem, I tried to make it good, But when I wrote my words about you, They cam

My life is a poem of broken stanzas. The space outside the doors bangs with muffled pleads. The man outside, a world apart, he's still a boy. Trying to save me while attempting to convey some semblance of my continued worth and capability to the rest of our world. He's probably panicking now. I've locked the door from the inside, shutting him out, shutting me away. Where I am now is no prison, but it is my self-imposed cage, my exile. Responding to my continued silence, he dreads the horrific sights he thinks may lurk behind the door: my swinging corpse, my serrated veins, or perhaps my spilling organs upon this cold, deserted floor. But my

A woman spoke some words of yours tonight And I, within them saw what stood Among the future's twined possession. This gave rise to introspection Upon such thoughts of days (nearby) When academics will agree Your contemplation does one good But the woman, homeless, I understood For she was you, as you are we. Not even time to blink an eye Her beam of truth, too quick, too bright Took my thoughts a new direction Might things for you end not quite right?

Darkness and despair Are hanging by a hair Falling over dead Is hanging by a thread It's like I breathe a different air. Watching people walking Watching people rocking How can they ignore That life is such a bore And just keep talking? My life is slowly slipping The world is quickly tipping I want to end it all My heart must be so small I can feel it ripping.

Once upon a midnight tale, a fearsome dragon lost his scale. He burned down the forest and stomped through the town. He frightened the people and made buildings fall down. He searched and he searched and let out a sigh. The dragon thought, “I’m going to cry. My scale! My scale! The prettiest one! Come help me find it! Help, anyone!” Greed was the thing that made his blood curl. The dragon swung ‘round and there stood a girl. The girl’s face was filthy and appeared almost gray. Her white dress was tattered and to his dismay the girl had no shoes and her body was pale, but in her left hand, he spotted his

Now I may live in the middle of nowhere, but that doesn't mean I do not know, what's going on South below. A while ago, I was shown this video. It took me to a place, before unknown. Even tough it wasn't long, it showed me a war. A war fueled by blood, sweat, tears, and fears. A war raging, for 20 years strong. It sometimes makes me cry. Each new day, another child dies. "But why should you care?" "You don't even live there!" Maybe that's true, but my love, I still share. A child isn't a soldier. A boy isn't a man. He cannot stand for his country, if his country won't stand for him. Stop the bullets! Stop the killing! T