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Literature Text
Lies like towers
Blocks stacked one by one-
Higher and higher-
Prison towers,
Master architect locked inside.
Beating unforgiving bricks with bloody fists.
Trapped by walls she built so well,
So carefully,
So cleverly.
Lies that bite
Lies that grow
Lies with their own pounding hearts,
Dark blood, smirking eyes, animal instinct
Lies more physical
More genuine
More real than I am.
Lies that live.
Lies like quicksilver
Flowing mercury
Gliding, graceful,
Fluid words and liquid lines
Lies that drip from my lips
Like metallic lifeblood.
Lies that sing.
Lies of beauty.
Silken words and swirling melodies
Enchanting, entrancing
Elegant sirens tricking sailors into joining the dance.
And my old addiction to their perpetual song.
Lies I need.
Lies I live.
Lies I love.
Blocks stacked one by one-
Higher and higher-
Prison towers,
Master architect locked inside.
Beating unforgiving bricks with bloody fists.
Trapped by walls she built so well,
So carefully,
So cleverly.
Lies that bite
Lies that grow
Lies with their own pounding hearts,
Dark blood, smirking eyes, animal instinct
Lies more physical
More genuine
More real than I am.
Lies that live.
Lies like quicksilver
Flowing mercury
Gliding, graceful,
Fluid words and liquid lines
Lies that drip from my lips
Like metallic lifeblood.
Lies that sing.
Lies of beauty.
Silken words and swirling melodies
Enchanting, entrancing
Elegant sirens tricking sailors into joining the dance.
And my old addiction to their perpetual song.
Lies I need.
Lies I live.
Lies I love.
Literature
Eyes
Today,
She looked in the mirror
She searched hard,
Wondered what he saw in her.
Wondered where this beauty he says he sees
Is hiding
A tear slipped from her eye,
Quietly she thought to herself,
"He's lying.
I'm ugly."
She softly swipes her cheeks,
Examining the girl in the mirror
Eyes shining with water
Eyes..
She looked closer
She had pretty eyes.
Literature
I Can't Stay
Broken whispers,
Crushed glass of a once pretty picture frame,
& Hurt half-smiles slowly turning upside down.
The dreary, stormy day is unending,
& The slight chill that lurks outside somehow found its away into my soul.
{The shivers running down my spine remind me that you never where mine}
This place I once knew,
So open, bright and full of life-
It's now nothing more then an old, forgotten, empty, warn out, no longer sacred space.
Cob-web covered memories,
Shoved up in the dark and dusty corners of my mind.
I keep the door tightly locked,
So that the ghosts from my haunted past stay quietly locked away.
{I don't want t
Literature
Shh
Shh, be quiet.
Can't you hear
The rain heavy wind
Rattling the windows?
Shh, be quiet.
Listen closer,
Listen harder
And you will hear.
Shh, be quiet.
There's something besides
The wind out there.
Shh, be quiet.
Hide yourself
Or the masked man
Will kill you.
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It's definitely a sick "love", though. :/
I hate it when I lie, which I do far, far more often than I should. I hate being good at it. I hate never getting caught. I hate knowing exactly what to say to get someone to do what I want. But at the same time, there's this deep (though almost guilty) satisfaction when I get away with a lie. It's one of the things I'm most ashamed of.
Alternate title is "Self-Portrait 2". So creative, amiright.
I'm doing a sort of series (if you could call it that) of literary self-portraits. Good? Bad? Depressing?
The first is here: [link]
I hate it when I lie, which I do far, far more often than I should. I hate being good at it. I hate never getting caught. I hate knowing exactly what to say to get someone to do what I want. But at the same time, there's this deep (though almost guilty) satisfaction when I get away with a lie. It's one of the things I'm most ashamed of.
Alternate title is "Self-Portrait 2". So creative, amiright.
I'm doing a sort of series (if you could call it that) of literary self-portraits. Good? Bad? Depressing?
The first is here: [link]
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loved it!