Cookies r delicious

Is Wattpad alive?

Gonna post some new chapters soon

I RISE FROM ASHES

Updating my Gods book, second in the series, definitely gonna rock your world and bring new light on why I made the characters how they were in my first book. Backstory almost, to explain why some of the Minecraft creeps are there and not all. It’ll also go into the mind wipe stuff Herobrine said Steve had, and why Herobrine and Notch know so much and yet so little.

I have RETURNED

Can you reply??

On a day such as this, 
          How cursed can one be?
          To feel those blasted cold 
          Drops of pain fall upon the cheek?
          
          The fear and the sorrow
          Filling my lungs as I choke 
          From my choices.
          
          My hands shake as I look down
          Desperate to have no one see me cry
          For I never cry in fear of hurting others
          And yet I hurt myself more
          As each tear drips slow.
          
          My heart sinking and thumping,
          My head pulsing and my vision foggy,
          Wishing for swift death or to turn back,
          Just so I shall not feel so broken.
          
          I felt the minutes tick down 
          Gazing upon a screen with fear,
          For what I saw brought upon
          My pain that brought me tears.
          
          I know crying is no sin 
          But the questions and the emotions
          They overwhelm my mouth and mind
          And I just become a sobbing mess.
          
          
          
          And somehow I’ve managed to cry
          On a day for love and joy.
          A relationship strong and protected,
          And yet I wish I had never existed.
          
          Some hero’s of the universe.
          They are a curse along with there makers.
          For as the last years fell upon that screen
          Watching one say there goodbye’s
          And then leaving forever.
          
          It signaled the end of their need 
          But leaving me with a gaping hole.
          I now sit in silence and try to forget.
          
          That my Ship has never sailed,
          That it ended so horribly,
          That there was a sickening ride of emotion,
          How everything fell apart!
          
          Even if it ended in joy I feel only pain still.
          How dare Voltron do this.
          Why did I dare watch it when I knew well that I shouldn’t have. 
          I had carefully avoided the end,
          And the end found me,
          And I hate myself for learning.

Did you guys know it’s possible to make a real Superman? Without the heat beam and the ice breath though. Like captain America but near close to flight abilities.
          
          And people, they can make clones in there own home. 
          
          My world has been opened up, there is so much, and it gives me so many ideas!!
          
          
          
          
          
          
          
          
          But at the same time I hate this wattpad app.

There is nothing we can do
          Fighting the endless passage of time
          All knowing we eventually have to die
          
          Images of our corpse alone and rotting
          Leaving nothing behind but faded memories 
          The people we knew dying off as we watch
          
          So we ignore the fatality rate
          Up till we must see our loved ones gone
          Morbid thoughts packed upon depression
          The Sky shall darken and they all whisper
          For any anger or joy shall be fire and lightning
          
          The set for destruction usually doesn’t awake
          For the masks are slipped off and set aside 
          For the star of the performance is the gone
          And the gone still watch our performance
          
          But we not know heavens embrace 
          None have truly been gone to return
          For the land of the dead is eternal
          But life will only last so long
          
          So why waste time begging for more
          Why waste those precious rays of gold
          Why punish yourself for being 
          Why suffer when you’ve been gifted
          
          Though thoughts are thoughts 
          We are our own
          Not all believe there is god to behold
          Not even I for it’s frightening 
          
          Yet I still hope
          I’ve prayed a couple times
          In the light as I wished or cried
          I never believe and yet I call
          
          I’m quite damned 
          But aren’t we all?

We are followers, 
          Never rising above waters,
          Thinking the one way that becomes a vicious creature,
          It’s claws that dig and tear at our skin and minds,
          This monster of our self destructive thoughts,
          The monster that has no death toll to pay,
          Fallowing you as you try to swim in the sea of chatting people,
          Whispering negative ideas just to make it stronger.
          
          It’s echoing voice repeats like a racing beat of your heart,
          It’s voice rising and making your heart sink,
          Your stinging eyes forced to flow with sorrow,
          Your hair being pulled at to distract yourself from the pain the words began to cause,
          Eyes watching from every which corner,
          And you’re swallowed whole.
          
          That’s what happens when your too weak,
          Far too fragile to fly, 
          Not brave enough to fight,
          Too selfish to ever let free of your own suffering,
          And full of a rage of which burns with a passion,
          And none of it changes.
          
          It really can’t.
          
          But you can build over it, 
          Define your shield and sword,
          March across the tragic fields of weeping angels made of bark and leaves,
          Swim through the sky which holds the earth bellow the atmosphere,
          Have the audacity to stand at the throat of the world and leave that creature a mile behind!
          
          Scream your own story and define your life,
          Fight for what you believe is right,
          Finish the book when it IS your time.
          
          Above 40 just from wielding a sword against your demons,
          Past age 55 if you take care of the armor and shield,
          Up to 80 if you made a difference.
          
          But even still, 
          Age is no promise,
          You are not made of wine, 
          Not defined by your afterlife,
          Never lost to time forever.
          
          You are beautiful, 
          You shine a light as you smile,
          Because as you find yourself life becomes a better world,
          A new realm of peace can open up if you oh so choose to take it.