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What is Love?There was a princess who at the youthful age of 16 already knew more about human suffering than most of the elders in the kingdom. At age 2 she had been so sick that she would have died if the brilliant doctors of the land had not attempted surgery on her. As a young child she had been the victim of bullying and as an adolescent, though she was now old enough to take the throne, she felt complete isolation.
The Princess knew that none of the courtiers wanted to speak to her, so she would take her food during meals and sit beneath the stairs in the Great Hall, where she dined alone with none but the imaginary creatures she had created with her vast imagination to comfort her.
One day the Princess felt her heart strings straining to stay intact. The pain was so unbearable that she sought counsel. To her dismay she was met with only mockery, ridicule and disbelief. She decided that the only way to escape her pain would be to take her own life. The Princess ran to her room and found the ne
Thomasin's Monologue(This is a monologue from a play I am working on. Thomasin is a tavern wench who is in love with the prince of England. He loves her too, but Thomasin fears that one day their union will be discovered and the people will lose their faith in William. She has been contemplating giving him up so he can marry a princess and rule the traditional way.)
THOMASIN: Oh, will nothing remove this stain? What is it that lurks in the mouths of the ruffians who frequent the tavern? I dare not really ask. Thank the heavens for these rags so I do not have to touch this with my own hand, I fear I’d lose it to some foul disease if I did.
Oh, William, many times you have said that this is not the place for me. I do wish that I could be by your side every day. I live for the days you comes to the tavern. When you are near me I feel like a lady, not a wench. You treat me with respect and speak to me as you do the court of England. If all men behaved in such a way, women would have an easier time findi
Selfish PeopleI would like to take some time today to discuss a topic that many people tend to veer away from. We all think about it, possibly even on a daily basis, but we rarely bring it up to the offenders. Instead we choose to hide behind our computers, ranting about it on Facebook or Tumblr, and the offender never even realizes the post is about them. I am speaking of the fact that far too many people these days have a False Sense of Entitlement and/or live in the almighty Land of Me.
Now, I am not too harsh with people about this in most cases. Yes, every so often we do want to just have a Me Day, or do something that will only benefit ourselves. This does not make anyone a bad person. It just makes you a human being. After a long day at work or school I am sure just about everyone needs a bit of that coveted Me Time. However, you should not be the absolute center of your universe.
Selfish people oftentimes do not even realize they are selfish. I mean who goes around saying, "Yeah, I only care
Guardian AngelThere was a strange time in my life when a creature of nightmares became the source of my salvation. I had been kicked out of my mom’s house when I was nineteen because she is one of those crazy, tie you to a chair while forcing you to listen to church hymns for hours on end types, and I refused to stop believing in supernatural creatures, despite her efforts to exorcize me. I had been on my own for about nine years, in a crappy little shack in the city, just outside the crack dens and the whore houses disguised as flower shops that were mysteriously never open during the day.
When I say my house was crappy, I mean it was so bad it should have been condemned by the state. If I jiggled the doorknob too hard it would come off in my hand, most of the shingles were missing from the roof, the upstairs bathroom window was made of plastic wrap, the basement had so much mold I had to board it up so nobody could get in, and the heating only worked for half an hour at a time. Everything in
Things That Piss Me OffMy cousin refers to my parents as the Incredible Hulks. They will get blazing mad over the simplest things. I have literally seen them flip out over dropping something that never even broke when it hit the floor. They just aren’t very patient people, but they aren’t abusive, so I just tend to go to my room and wait for the storm to blow over when one of them gets like that.
I do not have as short a fuse. It honestly takes a lot to make me very angry. When I say “a lot,” I meant you have to just keep doing something that upsets me over and over until I am positive that I will never get you to accept my viewpoint, and either of us has any idea where to go from there. That being said, there are a few things that piss me off right from the get go, but I still try my best to remain civil until you try to force your ideas down my throat.
#1 Thing That Pisses Me Off
This issue tends to happen mainly through technology. I am normally texting, messaging or someone direct
Let in the Shadow Let in the Shadow
Loki opened his eyes halfway, the dazzling blue irises sparkled and his thin, pink lips parted just enough to reveal snow white teeth. A soft hum rose from his chest and his heart beat increased when he saw Tony above him like a guardian angel. The scientist's face was only inches away; close enough for Loki to catch the unmistakable scent of what he had come to know as Scotch.
"When you're alone silence is all you know."
A few months prior to this particular night, SHIELD had chosen Bruce Banner as Loki's personal therapist. Originally they had planned to imprison Loki when Thor came back to Earth with him. It took some doing and a great deal of patience, but in time Thor had been able to convince Fury that Loki was merely a lost soul who needed guidance and someone to talk to. Bruce had been able to crack through Loki's rough facade, but he could not seem to dig to the heart of the issue.
"When you're alone, silence is all you see."
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 ~
Keep in Touch!