You Belong to MeWarning! This is not necessarily a love poem.
I can take you over the rainbow
Unearthly holy labyrinth
Where my heart's an open blaze
But my sanity is absent
Flagrant scent which you emit
Such lovely, gracious musk
Forever love you, I do
Forever possess you, I must
For you, my passion is rendered
Let this be a night to remember
Sing to me, you are mine truly
And give yourself to me
Beneath sky, it's you and I
Watching the stars of night
But I feel you slip from my side
And slowly out of sight
But how, my love, could you do this?
I thought I had given you bliss
I'll seek you out, take you with me
To a place you cannot leave
* * *
Arrived at your bed, slipping into your sheets
Singing in your ear, "You belong to me."
I hold you closely just let you see
That the one for you, only I shall be
Plead to me, plead to me, just to let you breathe
And you scream and you scream, falling in too deep
There is no mercy now, you've already left me
But never again will I let that be
* * *
Adoption dayToday was adoption day so miss sunny had all the children come out side to get adopted by their new mommy and daddy. What kind of creature adopts you?
Who adopts you
1) single mom/dad
2) mom with a boyfriend
3) dad/ with girlfriend
Or switch I get adopted
::Anti bullying week: TF2 ficklet - To be trustedThere's... something strange with this boy.
He's quite different from the others I've been working with. He does not speak loud, or does not actually even speaks at all. You barely have to extract the words from his throat and when he's with all of us he's just standing there, saying nothing, waiting for us to pay attention to him or not. And it's not hard tell he prefers when we do not. I can get that he's not really in found of groups, hell if sniper and medic are, but it's not the same. It's mostly like he's scared of us. Again something that' s quite easy so see. When you try to talk to him, he almost never raise his eyes, which is kinda disturbing, and his sentences are always short. I've managed to had a chat or two with him and... Well he's quite sympathetic and does not looks as the shy type at all. But again, you have to do the first step. I've tried to ask him why he was acting like that and even to reassure him about all the other guys from the team and even about me but eve
Verborgene WeltDas Mädchen sitzt auf der Parkbank und wartet, regungslos und stumm, ganz am Rand der Sitzfläche und mit den Händen unter den Beinen, als wäre ihr kalt. Feuerrotes Haar tanzt um ihr Gesicht; immer in Bewegung, immer wirr. Sie wartet. Sie wartet auf jemanden, der stehen bleibt und für einen Augenblick gen Himmel blickt.
Um sie herum fallen die Blätter und enthüllen eine verborgene Welt aus reinem Licht; ein Königreich der Träume, sichtbar nur für einen Augenblick. Es liegt auf der Unterseite der fallenden Blätter, wenn die Sonne sie streift, vorbeigetragen vom Oktoberwind – einen Moment lang ganz nah und im nächsten schon fort.
Wenn das Blatt den Boden berührt, ist diese strahlende Unterseite unsichtbar; die Oberseite ist goldgelb oder rot wie ein Rubin – hübsch, sagen die Leute, doch die wahre Schönheit bleibt ihren Blicken verborgen. Die Unterseite des gefallenen Blattes wird auf dem Boden zertreten
Sex ID“All human souls! Form a line over here for your sex ID!”
When we are born, we are a blank slate. A tiny, humanlike figure, and for some reason, we are always crying.
I wonder why that is.
Like all other souls, we begin going through life and enter this line for something called Sex ID. I’ve done this before, more times than I can count. My body won’t remember this, but I will.
I get closer to the front of the line as I age day by day, until I am two years old. When I hit that age, I am at the front of the line.
So each day passes, and I learn more and more.
If you are female:
You are weak.
You are submissive.
You are the caretaker.
You are the damsel.
You don't debate.
You don't speak out.
You don't play games.
You don't learn.
You don't leave.
You're not the hero.
If you are male:
You are strong.
You are dominant.
You speak out.
You can play games.
You can learn.
You are the hero.
You don't cook.
You don't sew.
You don't clean.
The man at the bus stopStep, step, step. The sound of my dragging feet against the wet cement doesn't sound real to me. I pace back and forth. The icy cold rain is crashing into my skin, seeping into my flesh, chilling me more than it should. The clouds in the sky form a roof over the Earth, casting the Earth in shadow. The street lights battle against the shadows, attempting to blanket the street in a sickly yellow glow. Their attempts are all in vain. There's a thin layer of mist that obscures the rest of the damp street from me.
The froth seeps from my icy lips and melts into the inky night. I continue pacing, my footsteps heavy against the drenched cement. I close my eyes, water flicking off my lashes, and continue pacing. My legs grow weary. I take a seat on the generic, metal chair that is provided at every bus stop. Immediately after I sit down, I regret my decision. The seat is an ice cube, chilling me down to my bones. I jump forcefully up, my feet crashing into a murky puddle, sending water flying
Kings and Beggars BFP November Prompt The King may not be all riches and snobbery.
"I'm sorry my Duke, but I just need to take out another loan."
Woosh goes the Duke's breath. "What now for my King?"
"My daughter is getting married. I need to clothe my daughter wonderfully so she seems well off. The dowry we should get should be enough to pay off my debts."
"Fine my King. I shall loan you this. But your other Dukes are getting itchy for their money back."
"I know my Duke. But I tell you, I shall have your money. Thank-you for your generosity my Duke."
The King may just as well be the beggar. As illustrated above. And the beggar may as well be the King.
The beggar sits atop his makeshift throne of dirty rags, broken metals, and rotten foods.
His peons scurry to and fro beneath him.
a gentle way to break usThe grass was slowly dying due to the winter's hands, stroking over it, letting it sway with every cold breath, every now and then. The forest that surrounded the graveyard was quiet, all consumed by the coldness, slowly creeping through the branches, patiently waiting for the last leaves to fall, like sinful angels from the sky. The weather was all harsh and cold on this day and my foot stepped on frozen ground. What an ironic thought it was, that he didn't die at the break of winter, like all things, but in high summer, when everything's supposed to be alive. That didn't stop him from dying and now what was left of him were some remains, bones and a cold gravestone towering against the grey sky. When I die don't cry, look at the stars and say goodbye was engraved into it, no name, no dates. I said goodbye several times but never did it work. Never did the word bear the pain of an ending, but as well the hope for a new beginning. Never did it bring the promise of summer through
Adventure Time of Mushroom Kind Forests of Spessart were always thick and endless. Rich on hills and secret alleys, a trees of hundreds years old and flowers blossoming with a feeling and smell of disturbed, yet inviting calm of a nature voids. Visitors here had a strange shivers on their backs, if alone not in pack, it became even more apparent. So untouched by a world of man, in all times, they seemed like a part of something that ages, but doesn’t know a ticking of clock. A Mountain like picks of a horizont lands, with fields of lonely farms in a distance. So much territory they covered that, if at one part of it was a mist, the other one was drowning in beams of a clearful warmness of sun. It was, by all occasions, a weird place. It never had fables about dragons, or trolls and goblins and fairies waiting to lure travelers away into horrific details of a folk tales. Some would enter it, to never be heard again. But maybe just to come from the other side of it, away from the way of life that left
Instunctive AngerBollertent was once my kind of town. Small, quiet and good folk, but not until the years passed and the neighboring cities rapidly expanded to Bolertent. Alot of the residents were not pleased. They had little to no power about it. Most of them were old and retired. I was still young and enjoyed the elderly company. The city folk, not so much.
Daunting signs were easily seen as they came in. Music being played with ear piercing volume and crude lyrics about substance abuse. Young kids revving their cars to intimidate and show off. Leaving marks on the streets and foul odors in the air. Some of us encouraged the parents to take more responsibility to the children. We made some progress, but most of the kids were moved out and on their own. We tried the police and it secured the order almost immediately, but one by one. We passed off.
Three years and all the once quiet people who rocked in their chairs, greeted each other kindly, hosted barbecues for fun and invited the entire town for m
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