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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
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
The Doctor's DespairAn adventure everywhere
In time and space
But not now
I've lost too much
I lost them
I lost them all
It's my own fault
I could have saved them
But I'm too thick, too stupid
I've grown too old
The universe is growing dark
At least it is to me
I want someone to travel and make it bright
But I can't let anyone near
I can't get attached
They always leave
They're always lost
It's always my fault
So I must remain alone
But I can't leave this world alone
So I'll watch from afar
As their lonely guardian...
My dilemma in conversationsWhen I talk about nerdy things,
I can talk without difficulty.
Sci-fi is easy to me,
British telly, anime, and gaming too.
My geekiness is common knowledge,
Get me talking about Firefly, I'll go on for an hour.
Like Tennant, I'm so sorry,
But I haven't the faintest clue.
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
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.
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
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.
The First Convention~Chapter 1 I looked out on the skyline from the window of my hotel. My first convention. It was Thursday night, the night before the convention officially started, and already I had seen people in costume. Everything and everyone from companion cubes to Pokémon trainers were there. I felt like a noob. Which I was, but I felt like everyone would know.
I turned from the window and sighed. A voice from the bathroom yelled at me, "Hey! Clara! Is your costume ready?" My friend, Zoe, was sharing a room with me, since she wanted to go to a convention for the first time too. She's the one who thought we should try costumes. All three days.
While she decided on Ash from Pokémon, I looked over my costumes. I brought costumes for from three of my favorite nerdy shows and anime. Fairly cheap, inexpensive costumes, except for one. I was saving it for the costume ball happening tomorrow ni
The quietest people have the most to sayHow is it that the quietest people have the most to say,
Emotions, thoughts, words, all hidden away
A rebel inside who choses to quietly obey,
Someone with thoughs, feelings they never will convey,
Silently, I choose to step aside, give way,
Like tall grass in wind does sway,
I lie to you, tell you its okay,
For my bottled emotions I will pay,
I keep hold of them inside me, where they should not stay,
The words kept inside me, my soul they will decay,
And this is how they got away
used to know a girl who wanted nothing more than to fly
but, she would always look down
ankles shackled to the ground.
shoulders weighed down with
fingers too stiff to bend into a fist that could hold on to anything other than the inky
black pen from which silhouettes of crows would flood the pages,
but we all know
how clumsily crows fly.
see, her pen would relentlessly trace crows.
endlessly sketched them in twisted figures,
no matter how many times she would sit and beg it-
but that black ink always turned into sludged venom biting at her fingertips and crawling up
her hands as if it were bridge
and she would cry, 'I just don’t understand
it’s as if
my body will not listen
i am not the one in control
and though i may reside within this prison
this body does not feel like home’
only no one heard her whisper
so she w
InsanityFrom the suffering I come
Bleeding through the eyes,
The hope is now gone
Drowned in your cries.
A sudden scream, the agonys so loud,
You drop to your knees,
Pray to God to help you out,
But once again, He has let you down.
Not able to move,
Not able to speak,
Life is so cruel,
And always was, it seems.
Youve lost your will,
Youre getting weak,
Your body has collapsed
And so have your dreams.
Your mind gives up,
But you still want to fight,
Strength seeps out through your wrists
So you just fall down.
Then comes the peace,
So desired and calm.
Your head is now empty
And so is your heart.
Theres no more pain,
No memories, nor hopes.
Sweet and bright,
Settling down in your mind.
Your new I
Keep RunningSomething broken, or something dead
and everything that was ever said
Punches, bruises, sticks and stones
and everything that broke my bones
to words they said would never hurt,
to a shoe that kicked my face with dirt
Yes, these tears are made by you
but even tears don't make lies true
Tears that dampened my pillow case
tell a story that you could never chase
and I'll keep running until I die
Because you'll never catch me, I'll watch you try
The Story of Little DollThere once was a doll with a broken, heart face,
Without a pretty smile, no one remembered her name.
She sat without friends amongst the cuddly toys,
And got picked up and threw about by some of the rowdier boys.
Her porcelain was chipped and she was missing a curl,
She looked more like a monster than a sweet little girl.
The shopkeeper couldn’t sell her so he kept her by the till,
‘Not for sale’- she never sat by the window sill -
It was a fear, in the shop, that she would scare customers away.
So little doll watched people pass, collecting dust every day.
And sometimes, perchance, when she caught sight of herself,
She thought about throwing her body from the edge of the shelf.
Outcast and unwanted by every child she’d ever seen,
As broken goods, she was worthless, she had come to believe.
Until one day a little girl, with a burnt and scarred face,
Asked the shopkeeper why little doll looked so out of place:
‘Ah young madam, I couldn’t sell you her
Wasted Words.Wasted Words.
We wait for the last possible moment.
Even when confronting our opponents.
How we truly feel.
We hide behind our counterfeit expressions.
Conceal and contain our countless confessions.
Failing to announce,
What our mouths long to pronounce.
We purposely squander opportunities.
Maintaining our positions within our communities.
Avoiding any disclosure,
Reducing the risk of exposure.
We use humour to dilute what we actually say.
Because the truth does not have to be revealed today.
We know there always is a tomorrow,
So today has not got to be filled with sorrow.
We wait and wait.
Stall and prolong.
Until it’s too late
And the moment has gone.
There is never a convenient time.
For us to say what is really on our minds.
It takes the sight of a death bed.
Chains Of RealityDon’t you wish to just rewind the past
And live a life from the start at last?
Wishes like that never come true
And there is nothing you can do.
You do not understand how the World looks.
You try to comprehend it through books,
Though reality sometimes is not what you desire
And you become the greatest liar!
You break chains with your pen,
And get out of the darkest den,
You discover a brand new place,
Where happiness and peace will us embrace.
Alas, it is all a dream, you are still trapped,
In cold metal you are wrapped.
You cannot face it, it is too sad,
And if you do, it will drive you mad.
I write for MEI don't write to please,
I write feel well
And be free
Let my thoughts land on paper for others to read
I don't want to keep them in
If they can help others
Let them read and see
If they ever felt the way I did.
Wish Upon A Scar
Wish Upon A Scar
Shades of words can strengthen...walls
But embodiments of lies can flaw the very same...cause
A droplet of water lasted me a thousand ages
For I have traveled inside my mind
I documented a thousand faces
That ended up turning blind eyes
The lifeblood of faith kept urging me to wait
While I became a statue deprived of light
and the life I once called mine
Numb sounds flow / Passions let go
Clinging onto footprints / A coward's instinct
Uncensored immunity is a curse
For tragedy teaches weakness
Nothing will be of any worth
As love and fear will be without consequences
Once upon a song / You were a flower
Your petals became undone / Gone now and forever
A taste of your grace got me through a thousand fates
I have not forgotten the abyss of your bliss
But it broke me over and over a thousand ways
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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