Behind the Scenes
- LECTURAS 186
- Votos 12
- Partes 1
Concluida mar, oct 15, 2013<5 mins
Obviously a poem. I wrote this a bit at a time. It was inspired by one of my friends and the way she was acting was how she was "supposed to", but in that moment it seemed so obviously fake it made me think about how we all do that. Some more then others. We all make up a character for ourself and then act them out in the play of life.
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The experiment.
They used my vulnerability against me. They used that weapon, to make me accept their stupid idea. And I of course, accepted it, I didn't even know what they were going to do. They tugged and poked and even shoved their disgusting finger in your wound, just to see you cry. To see you change. No pitty in their eyes. They just continue. They drag you around with metal chains, hit you and turn you into a experiment. But I had enough of the tugging, the clawing, the moaning, the crying and pleading for them to stop, but simply feeding them with our pain. They turned me into something, that neither do they know what I am. Their afraid of me, of my reflexes, my strength. I killed a lot of them. They say I have a cold heart, that I don't feel nothing. That's why they call me: Death -----------------------------------------************************************--------------------------------------------- Death. A teen girl, pitch black hair, black eyes, white skin. Her height is 5'8. People are scared of her, not just because of her strength but because of they way she kills. She lived in this hell hole, where they take her to rooms. Examine. Fight. She knows she won't be able to entertain them for long. She decides to run. Soul. Brown hair as mud, blue eyes as the sky. Hight 6'2. Tanned and toned body. Death's best friend in the hell hole they're in, he's as cold as she is. But shows a bit of sympathy. Well... More than her at least. He's been there for her, ever since she entered this place of crap. They're the two most feared. As some people say, they're a perfect couple. Killing. Fighting. Cold hearted creatures. Also known as D and S. Why? That's what your going to find out, joining this adventure with D and S.Concluida
Thoughts of a Juvenile
Words are sharper than knife they say. Yes it is true. Some perfectly moulded good words can both make and break a heart easily. A poem is a group of such perfectly moulded words given wings to fly. They fly through the mind and heart easily. A hobby is an activity we do to express ourselves, our beliefs and our thinking. For example through drawing, dancing, singing, etcetera. Writing a poem is one of such hobbies. Here words are used. These words and messages are far more twisted. A poem hits the mind, a good poem hits the heart. Thoughts Of A Juvenile is just a collection of my poems.I started writing poems when I was 8. I may not be a great writer. But yeah I write to express. There have been times for me like many other teenagers where I thought I was lost and helpless. There have been good times too. I'm standing on the edge of teenage now, telling you that you can survive this. You can survive everything. All you need is to find your strengths. There are sad nights and then there are mornings full of opportunities. Don't give up. I'm here and I'll always be here. Whenever you feel down just remind yourself "Be stupid". Go out in public and the eat the food you like alone, ask out your crush, flirt like there's no one watching, dance like a ghost has possessed your body, prank people, have a little chat with the nerds you know. Surviving is an art not many can master. Be a Master. There are mistakes in this book and I tried my best to correct them. But couldn't correct them all. I would really love to receive reviews and criticism. Vote if you like it. Comment your views. And follow for more poems. Add it to your reading list or library.Concluida
AGONY
The day when the rain began the bitch said to be dead, I didn't know whether it was true or a lie but had no choice or traces but to assume that bitch was alive. Everyone pushed to believe that bitch was dead, killed, or else suicide. Police were investigating whether the bitch was killed or kicked the bucket, but some external things pushed them to investigate it. Whatever it was going to be, bitch's gone.Concluida
Echo of the Past
A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.Concluida
The Bullied Mate
She had tears in her eyes and was looking at me with disgust. Our eyes locked and it was like the world disappeared. It was her and me. I was to protect her with every fiber in my being and in that moment I want to cherish and comfort her and hurt whoever did this to her. Then it dawned on me. I did this. I hurt my mate. That thought alone made me want so shrivel in a ball and die. We broke eye contact when she quickly got into her car and drove away. She was my mate. A human. I had to make her love me. I have to make her forgive me. All of the hate for her washed away in that moment, that minute, that second. Disclaimer- I wrote this book when I was super naive and didn't know that the abuse written about in this book is unacceptable and not to be tolerated. Also, it's pretty bad writing. So just keep that in mind too.Concluida
Mated
I thought I could hide forever, but fate had other plans. I can't remember what it feels like to be happy. I'm sure I felt it long ago, back when I thought I was in love. Great husband, great job, great life. Great big lie. At least, that is what my life has turned into now - a series of lies to hide the fact that I am not who I appear to be. The lies keep me hidden and safe... for now. Surely, my ex-husband would never think to look for me in this sleepy little town. As I settle into my new life, I'm afraid it won't be forever. Could I really give up my job and best friend to go back on the run? Then, I meet Hunter and my world flips upside down. One night of passion is all I can offer, but he wants more. That's the last thing I need, yet I find myself craving what I can't have. I can't deny this intense attraction that keeps pulling us together like a magnet, and he's not going to take no for an answer. My heart fills with hope, but it only takes a moment for it to shatter. I'm not the only one keeping secrets, and Hunter's are even bigger than my own. A single mistake is all it takes for me to put his life at risk, and sooner or later my web of lies is going to catch up to me. With everything spiraling out of control, I can only be sure of one thing... my life will never be the same. If you like paranormal romances with fated mates, intense conflict, and Alpha Heroes, you'll love Mated. Recommended for readers 17+Concluida
Grace
What's the point of pretending we're alright when we aren't? We're only humans, so why can't we face our weaknesses and problems head-on instead of trying hard to appear perfect to the world around us? What exactly are we trying to prove? That we're perfect? * An actress pursuing a topnotch movie; A producer that isn't what he seems; An unintentional murder; And a God that worked behind the scenes. It took all these for Grace to realise that her name wasn't just a name- it was a lifeline. _Her_ lifeline. Grace was saved... By grace.Concluida
Handwritten
"Sometimes I wonder If this is how it's supposed to be Can I make a choice ? Or is it all meant to be?"...Concluida
They used my vulnerability against me. They used that weapon, to make me accept their stupid idea. And I of course, accepted it, I didn't even know what they were going to do. They tugged and poked and even shoved their disgusting finger in your wound, just to see you cry. To see you change. No pitty in their eyes. They just continue. They drag you around with metal chains, hit you and turn you into a experiment. But I had enough of the tugging, the clawing, the moaning, the crying and pleading for them to stop, but simply feeding them with our pain. They turned me into something, that neither do they know what I am. Their afraid of me, of my reflexes, my strength. I killed a lot of them. They say I have a cold heart, that I don't feel nothing. That's why they call me: Death -----------------------------------------************************************--------------------------------------------- Death. A teen girl, pitch black hair, black eyes, white skin. Her height is 5'8. People are scared of her, not just because of her strength but because of they way she kills. She lived in this hell hole, where they take her to rooms. Examine. Fight. She knows she won't be able to entertain them for long. She decides to run. Soul. Brown hair as mud, blue eyes as the sky. Hight 6'2. Tanned and toned body. Death's best friend in the hell hole they're in, he's as cold as she is. But shows a bit of sympathy. Well... More than her at least. He's been there for her, ever since she entered this place of crap. They're the two most feared. As some people say, they're a perfect couple. Killing. Fighting. Cold hearted creatures. Also known as D and S. Why? That's what your going to find out, joining this adventure with D and S.
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