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A Writer's ApologyI'm sorry
I stayed up late
Last night again
I stayed up too long reading
Last night again
But how can you expect
For me to sleep with all these ideas
In my head
How can you expect
For me to rest with all these untold stories
In my head
I can't risk
Sleeping and losing
Because I can't risk
Becoming another face in the crowd, not following
So I guess I'm sorry
Just ban me from everything so I won't
One day I'll cause someone else to
The Daydreamer's LamentI long to close the gap
Between the realm of fiction and reality
And bring this lonely soul
A friend from the world I wish I lived in...
Graduation DayI may not be a senior, but I still go.
Partially because I have to, but I need to as well.
I look out across the football field at the graduates...
The same field we marched on every Friday.
The same field we forged bonds.
Bonds that'll be forgotten?
As for the seniors, I feel my heart break.
So many of them I was close friends with.
So many I still want to talk to.
So many I'm afraid will forget me.
The conductor raises his baton, and I try to focus on my music.
I hear all their names called.
And each one of our seniors, the band seniors,
Looks over at us.
And I know, that they'll remember each and every one of us.
To Those Who Wish To Dishearten MeTo those who shower put-downs,
To those who pour insults,
To those who wish to dishearten me,
You're not getting your way.
I've fought you for over a year now.
You show no signs of stopping.
Yet I continue to outdo myself,
Occasionally even outdoing you.
Yes, I have faltered a little,
But that was ages ago.
Now I'm older, wiser,
Mentally and emotionally I've grown.
So while I may stumble.
(And I know you'll be there to point it out)
I'll always get up and be better.
So, dislikers, work it out.
Whovians and Homecoming School spirit. Homecoming. Dress-Up Day. Three things that were happing today. The first two I could care less about, but the third...I was bristling with excitement. From the moment I woke up, fifteen minutes before my alarm went off, I was energized and hurrying to get ready. I threw open my closet doors and pulled my costume off it's hanger. Grinning, I got dressed and headed off.
Once I got to school, a million eyes greeted me in the commons. Well, things were going as expected so far.
I was wearing a tweed jacket over a off-white dress shirt, with red suspenders and dress pants, with a bow-tie topping it all off.
I was the Doctor.
Crossdressing day was on Wednesday, but this was different. This. Was. Cosplay!
"Anne!" My best friend, Grace, called to me. She was wearing a bright pink wig and accompanying bright pink
Amy Alone~A Doctor Who Fan-FictionNOTE: This takes place during the events of the Doctor Who episode "The Girl Who Waited." Spoilers?
This is where I am now. This was supposed to be a vacation from all the craziness of traveling with the Doctor. Turns out, the number two most popular tourist planet has a deadly plague! And there's two timestreams too...one normal, and a faster, compressed one. At least, that's what the Doctor says. He told me to go into the facility, so he can rescue me. So he said. So he said.
But I know he's coming. Actually, I know both of my boys are coming for me. The Doctor, my Raggedy Doctor from when I was a girl, who came back for me, and Rory, the Last Centurion, the man who watched over
Ode to-Ode to the
Who died trying
Ode to the ones
Who were pushed to the floor
Ode to the
Whether recognized or not
For their deeds
For their struggles
For their victory
Ode to the ones
Who forced their voices
To be heard
To the restless
To the inventors
To the revolutionaries
Who refused to sit quietly
End the silence
Ode to the “freaks”
My dream is to become a writerMy dream is to become a writer. A writer who flourishes in the presence of writing, who adores words and carves wonders from the thin strands of air. A writer who creates passion and hatred within every curve and twist of the ink, who pulls in the old souls of many.
Sometimes the mere word rolls off my tongue with satisfaction as a I say it, each sound of it so alluring.
During the day, when I go about my daily business and work as the waitress I am, or even at night, when I ready myself for sleep and rest, I catch myself wondering...what if? And I often pause in the mirror and catch a glimpse of something in my eyes. They seem to be always burning; burning, burning and burning. With a desire to write and to prove myself.
But how to begin? Would I truly risk losing myself in the process of this immediate madness? If I were to release my entire self within the pages of a story, would I be loved by my readers? Sometimes the extent of what I write frightens me, and
Cry of an ArtistThey tell me I’ll understand
when I’m older.
That I shouldn’t be an artist.
I want to be those crumpled papers
in the corner of my room,
and the late nights I stayed awake
blinking at the moon.
And even though I lack the supplies
and ideas are far away,
I feel artistic blood
running through my veins.
I’m that empty spray can
left in the shadows of the walls
where street art’s been made
but the name’s not there at all.
And I’m that lonely artist
who fears of sticking out
because all the art critics
feel the urge to not speak, but shout.
And I’m that girl standing by the window,
wanting those paints and brushes,
pencils and pens,
and the city that hushes
when my art makes its
DadWhen you were born, he impatiently told the world this great news. You looked so small
and insignificant, but you were so beautiful to him.
He watched you grow up. He watched you learn how to walk. He taught you how to talk. As a
kid, the harsh reality of life doesn’t seem to affect you.
But it affects him.
It keeps him busy all night, mumbling things like “avoiding bankruptcy” and “a place to
live”. Nevertheless, when you showed him a picture of your drawings, he would still give
you a warm smile and shower you with compliments.
As you get older, he teaches you more and more things. He believes in you. He gave you valuable lessons about life:
“The mountains will never change.
The rivers will never stop f
The Price of Royalty
The little girl dreamed that perhaps one day
she'd be a princess and meet her Prince Charming.
But the truth in becoming a part of the fray,
is that governance can be quite disarming.
There are tasks to perform and duties that call
and sleepless nights are quite often the norm.
Yet to be by his side is to her worth it all,
together they would weather every storm.
But when bad targets good, the mighty may fall,
her burden then becomes too much to bear!
How could anyone presume to have the gall
to take away Prince Charming; was it fair?
saw in that pond
What if it was someone
so jaw dropingly beautiful
he couldnt look away,
but this person was
defiantly no himself.
Just no one else
could see it.
the goddess cursed
him to fall in love with
someone worlds away
that he could never touch?
i am a writeri am made up
of charcoal bones
& paper limbs,
filled with ink
stained by ink blood
& bruised words;
by the dreams
encompassing my mind.
i am a writer
with a writer's heart,
& i own my words.
Haiku times twoOn Poetry
The slash of a pen
Leaves black scars on white paper.
Stroke the artist's ego and
Bring the Muse to life.
Of Nerdiness and FandomsBeing a nerd is awesome
There's so much to explore
From manga to anime to gaming to cult shows
There's so much out there to enjoy.
Being a nerd is lonely
When there's no one who enjoys it too
At school, without a fandom peer
Being a nerd is amazing
Because you're never really alone
There's so many out there who love what you do too
From fan fictions to art and even music too
Who cares about the haters
When we stick together
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More