.I cryso othersdon't have to
writers blockI have writers block.I don't know when it cameOr how, I just knowThat it appearedJudging, telling meMy work was patheticPathetically awful, incapableOf making someone's bad dayTurn goodI tried riding of it of itBy telling it to go, andThat I didn't need itBut I was ignored.I tried using a friend of mine,Hate, yelling and screamingAnd abusing the block.Silly me, I forget it hasNo feelings.I try to throw it away, hopingIt gets run over,But I can never catchThe writer's block.It's safe to say... Nothing worked.Have I been defeated by thisDevastating force? Do I giveUp, and take up sports instead?No. That's not me.So I sit down in front of myComputer, and I write. I writeWonderful, pointless nonsense.The click-click-click of the keysMakes the block crumble, knowingIt's criticism has no effect.As the block erodes, it screams out one finalProtest, until it's finally gone.My computer screen is filled withGarbage words, imprinted on.Satisfying nothing,Amaz
."i have a boneto pick with you"Really?which one, andwhy is it sobad to you?
.Rhapsody queenMusic's growlchords all prowlsurrounding soundnever held groundA roar, a screama distorted dreamthe nightmare songNo right, no wrong,Music play itsonly tune, callingbeastsIt's too soon
.Torrents swayIn the chaoticair, hanging hopeErode, despairskin worn downspine and bonewhatever I lovedI loved alone.
.What we sayand what wemean are twodifferent things
."You aren't being yourself"YourselfWho's thatAnd why isShe better thanI am
.You gave me wingsThey turned to stoneYou gave me hopeI'm still aloneI followed ordersLike you told me toEndless struggleAlways more to doI've got everything;Glory, money, butI was still left emptyTell me: Now what?
.Be the beastin the monster'sclosets
Brown Eyes Compliments, and AnalogiesBecause I'm sick of people saying there aren't any.Your brown eyes are like the deep intoxication of campaign wine, bubbling with hazing richness and expensive taste.Your brown eyes are like the color of mahogany wood- comforting and home-steady toughness that lets me know you will be the beams of supporting me.Your eyes remind me of Dove chocolate, smooth, creamy, delectable, and melting.The color of brown eyes remind me of mountain terrain and nature, something subtle, but beautiful in every form and season.Brown eyes make me think of Devil's cake, taunting and tempting, curtained by black lashes, the symbol of rich seduction.When brown eyes delve in love, they become the color of a leather book, promising a story of loyalty, long-life, and devotion.Your brown eyes remind me of mysterious secrets, dark to cover the pain of ignorance, opaque to cover to want of another.Brown eyes are like the stable ground, steadier and prepared to embrace you when you fall, into a nurturing a
bitter.somewhere between his gasping green eyesthere is the lip printof a woman he doesn't remember.she doesn't exist to him anymore(speck of ash in a city that she is),but she does to me.so when he comes home,I grab him by the tieandslam him to the wallandkiss himharduntil the press of my lipsdefiles the grave of a girl who oncethought he was beautiful.
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one. When she cries herself to sleep six out of seven nights a week you must say nothing. You must simply take her in your arms and kiss her gaunt, pale cheeks and wait for her to slumber at the sound of your heart.two. On the days where she wishes she were part of the stars, tell her no. Tell her that there are too many lights in the sky and that just one would be forgotten the moment you looked away from it. Tell her that she is perfect the way she is: completely human.three. Don't let her think about the scars that no one but her can see. If she says "I think I'm broken" smile like you know a secret and say, "No, you're mending." But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisDo not assume (if I hold the door for you),that I am making a statementabout your inabilitiesto open the door for yourself.If you hold it for me,I'll say 'thankyou'.Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),that I am underestimatingyour earning capacityas a woman.If you invite me out for a meal,you're paying.Do not assume (if I defend your rights),that I am belittlingthe attempts that you have madeto defend your rights yourself.If you defend my rights,I'll consider you human.
.you’ve got the heart of a lionin a glass chest
Open WoundsOpen Woundslife is but an open woundalways pouringforever drowining usnever slowingpeople are foolishto think that they can stop usbut they canteach one of us is filled with flawsgood and badwe are differentyet the sameno one can truely seewhat we seethey will never understandthe painthe sufferingthe anguishthere might be others like usbut we are alone
.You don't feel fastuntil they slow youdown;