AlwaysA long, long time ago
a little boy made a promise
Promises were made to be broken
childhood innocence is overshadowed
by death and destruction and longing for power
But that little boy kept his promise
even when she wasn’t around anymore
to hold up her end of the bargain
She hated him, he knew
those carefree summer days were long gone
but he made a promise
War casts its dark shadow
over all that is good and happy
and death wreaks its wretched toll
a burnt mansion, dead bodies and a lightning scar
are all that are left of a happy family
she’s gone forever, now
but he made a promise
A thankless job shapes his life
and a little boy with her eyes
makes his a world of misery
It would be easier to forget her, now
to let her go, to stop hurting
but he made a promise
A wise old man locks eyes with him across a desk
blue eyes shining with tears meet pain filled black eyes
“After all this time?”
sweet nothings.how can i ignite my soul
if my insides are too cold
to hold up on their own?
i'm hooked up to machines
and they whisper to me
sweet little nothings.
they tell me, 'love today
like you'll love tomorrow
if tomorrow you die.'
i don't like it when they
whisper, but it's better
than when they blare.
then the doctors come
and that's usually when
i close my eyes tight.
once someone told me
that i should be happy
to be alive and to smile.
i told them that i haven't
left this bed in 5 months
and i can't smile anymore.
but they didn't know i
lied because i smile when
he comes to visit.
he whispers his own
sweet nothings and i
don't feel so frail.
he tells me that one
day we'll run through
forests made of sunshine.
we'll climb the highest
mountains and only come
down when they beg.
we'll go swimming
and play with the
waves and dolphins.
every time he leaves
i never have the heart
to tell him my countdown.
starting yesterday i
have 2 days left
and all i can think
about is doing all
The PoetFor the work of a Poet to be truly appreciated
he must write it with his own blood and tears for ink
his soul the sharpened quill to nail the words
like so many specimen of unwilling insects upon the paper.
And once he has bled out
becoming the cause of his own demise
the reader is left behind to digest his soul
so plainly trapped within a cage of words
his requiem written as a love song to his Muse.
Chibi chap. 4Draco lay curled up on his side on a starch white hospital bed, unmoving. His eyes were unfocused and shimmering with unshed tears. He didn't flinch or even look up when the door swung open silently and Harry walked in, followed by a healer.
The slightly younger man hurried over to his nearly catatonic husband and sat on the edge of the bed. Gray eyes flicked up to his face for a moment before going back to stare at a spot on the blindingly white wall.
The other two stayed quiet, waiting to see if Draco would speak. When he finally did, it wasn't what either of them was expecting.
"Where are James and Scorpius?" He whispered, still staring straight ahead.
Taking his hand, Harry softly explained, "I went home while you were in surgery and took them to Ron and Hermione's." He thought for a moment then added, "I know it's only five in the morning but I can go get them if you want."
"No, they've already been woken up once. Let them sleep." Draco replied. He then spotted the unfamiliar pers
All Falling in the EndYou start with yourself.
Before anything grand can happen, you have to make a decision. A vow of dedication to your cause. Your ideals. Your path to reforming the world. The one that won’t forget you to the last seconds of your life and far beyond in neither heaven nor hell. Now that you have picked your door in the corridor of choices, you walk in, and the door locks itself behind you. The exhilarating click of devout commitment.
You start with a person.
It’s surprisingly hard to wield a knife properly, but your palms aren’t sweating. Cool and clenched and excited. Confident, too, that you can achieve what you set out to gain. You finish, and the curtains are raised on the show you’re about to steal. The things you do are nothing short of theatrical and grand, just like a musical with marionettes as actors. You are the planet’s new puppeteer.
You work with the world.
They’re afraid. They’re amazed. They’re in love. Their cries of pain an
Tomorrow, is the first blank page.......of a 365 page book. Write a good one.
Every year is like a chapter of our lives.
The object of a new year is not a celebration of a new year, nor having a new number displaying in our callendar but it is where we should have a new soul.
To sit down and think over how to improve up our lives.
Also is not a day to cry out loudly how our past year was unsuccessful and impatiently wait when it will be over, start a new, but to learn who we are and how we can move forward.
I'm not here to wish a good New Year Eve since it's not the only day which will decide how our new year will be likeÖ however what I truly wish you guys lots of joy for every day for this year, as well for next year- regardless what is the day or what's happening. Every day is a miracle and a proof of our existence.
Smile to yourself while looking at your image reflected by mirror and don't be shy to say "I love you" to yourself. And lots of love to all livings forms, animals and nature and less interest to mater