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Drifting through my memoriesDrifting through my memories,
Drifting through endless cracks and holes,
A horror story portrayed in my mind.
I don't bother to scream for help,
I know none will come.
I don't try to struggle,
It won't do much good.
I just lay back and give in.
What fun will they have seeing me motionless.
Maybe they'll be merciful and get it over with.
Bring my pain to an end...
Proud of Those SoldiersThe thumps,
Soldiers feet hitting the ground.
Men torn apart.
Men sent home.
Of joy and happiness.
Of children reunited with a parent.
Of those who lost them.
The soft voice,
Of those who served their country.
Unwanted tearsA tear falls to the paper.
Another tear to tally to the never ending list smearing the ink.
The pain you inflict on me with the memory of your smile.
The anger with in me of you disappearing.
I didn't know what it meant then.
You willingly leaving me.
But I've grown,
I've learned the agony of the world.
The thought of you brings my world crashing down around me.
And the ink stained paper burns.
The tallys erased from my mind.
Your smiles are now in the waste basket.
I'll never cry for you to come back again.
That's what I tell myself every time.
Hetalia Stole My HomeworkMy Lost(Or possibly stolen, drawn on, sent away, stolen again, and eaten) Homework
I’m Sorry... His Awesomeness Was Too Much...
Climbing out of bed, I planned on dedicating my day to finishing the project I’d been given. As I filled a bowl of cereal, I heard sniggering coming from the living room. Oh no... I hoped Gilbert hadn’t come around. I brought my bowl with me, and discovered that yes, Gilbert was indeed sitting on my couch, enjoying some strange show I’d never laid eyes on before. When I sat down next to him, he finally seemed to come out of his trance of being glued to the tv.
“Hey!!! Aurora!!! I’ve been waiting for you to get up! I’m taking you on an awesome adventure today with his majesty of Awesomeness!!! Of course, that would be myself,” he said this last tidbit in a very matter of fact way.
“I’m sorry Gils, I have to work on a project today,” I was a bit intrigued by this ‘awesome adventure’, b
1420 MHzHe keeps a list wadded in the depths of his front, left pocket: where he holds his keys, and the forgotten/abandoned shell of a lone pistachio. The list is his biography, written in the shape of Argentine Spanish:
Me gustan los tomates en verano.
Yo amo a mi novio.
Nos besamos. (Mi novio chupa mis dedos de los pies.)
Las estrellas cantan sus canciones.
Mi nombre no es Eduardo.
Vivo con Jacobi ahora.
His pants are wadded, now, on summer-warmed hardwood; his shirt is draped over the back of a cane-back chair, the most incongruous of antiques in Jacobi’s tech-nerd lair. Headphones clamp his ears, and fill his head with the lisping whisper of interstellar hydrogen, broadcasting itself at a neat 1420 MHz. Bedroom is the wrong word for a place like this, despite the sorts of furnishings one might expect. There is a bed, a dresser, a bookshelf and two nightstands cramped with magazines, graphic novels. An alarm clock
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More