Before the apple was devoured,

there was beauty,

peace,

and happiness for everything was perfect

But...

that was the past.

After that bitter apple was bitten,

the world now became dark,

chaotic,

and gloomy for everything is now slowly dying.

Dying in the hands of us.

Beautiful trees that stood tall,

sheltering the animals of the air

and ground,

are cut down for our own benefits.

The beautiful ocean that once

was blue,

home of all the most beautiful,

and magnificent creatures in the

world,

is now a different shade, thanks to our clumsy mistakes.

Majestic animals who once

roamed their land freely,

are now locked in cages, and tortured to do tricks for our own entertainment.

The land and water that was once

so breath taking,

is now covered in filth and garbage, shamefully created by us.

In this world we are selfish,

abusers,

and killers based on our horrible treatment to our world.

And even if my words are true,

or may even touch both me and

you,

it won't be enough to stop the tortured that our Mother Earth endures.

She's slowly dying because of us,

but she's trying to remain strong for us.

Written by S.W Blossom

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Like a candle, I glow.

Glowing so bright in the dark

with no fear,

and no pain.

Just bright and beautiful.

But then a draft comes.

Causing me to jerk and sway with each blow it gives me.

But like always, I remain bright.

Bright, beautiful, and strong.

But then a breeze comes.

Causing me to jerk and sway violently,

threatening to extinguish my glow.

But like always, I remain bright.

Bright, beautiful and strong.

But then the wind comes.

Causing me to sway and thrash violently,

showing no mercy as it desperately tries to extinguish my glow.

But as always, I remain bright.

Bright, beautiful, and strong.

Despite the soreness and bruises I feel.

But then a person comes.

Causing me to close my eyes as they take in one breath before releasing it on me,

finally extinguishing my glow.

Although it may seem that the once flickering candle is now gone,

I still exist through the smoke that rises from my abandoned post.

Nobody can see me.

Nobody will remember me.

And nobody will care.

To them I have served my purpose,

and now it is time to move on.

Written by S.W Blossom

It hurts being used.

It hurts being judged.

It hurts not being cared by others.

And it hurts to be alone.

But after years of dealing with this hurt,

years of trying to forget about those horrible memories,

and years of desperately trying to fit in with others...

I just learn to accept my place.

My place as being "not good enough,"

and my place of being a loner.

But that's okay.

I'm fine.

I have my own friends.

Friends that no one knows about,

friends that would never betray me,

friends that I can only communicate,

and friends that would never leave me alone.

So don't worry about me.

Don't worry if I'm by myself.

I'm fine.

Don't worry if I seem anti-social when I'm usually talkative.

I'm fine.

And don't worry if you sometimes see me in the dark, crying by myself in order to relieve myself from my own thoughts and memories.

I'm fine.

So you don't need to waste your time on a loser like me,

because I can take care of myself...

~ So don't worry, I'm fine.~

I've been told I'm not an artist,

because I don't have that gifted talent to draw like everyone else.

I've been told I have no real talent,

because using your words isn't really art;

It's just "words on paper."

I've been told my talent's useless,

because nobody would notice or take my work seriously.

And I've been told that writing is not art, but only literature,

because they claim anyone and everyone can write and create stories.

Although it's agreeable that anyone can write,

like art it's difficult.

A talent like this does take practice.

Oh!

You disagree?

You still think I'm not an artist?

Fine!

But listen...

Like how an artist can draw and paint a picture,

a writer does the same,

but with words.

Like how an artist can use their imagination to create a whole new world on paper,

a writer does the same,

but with words.

Like how an artist always has to use their creativity to make a picture more colorful and blissful,

a write does the same,

but through words.

And like how an artist works really hard to employ a message or feeling into their work,

a writer does the same,

but with words.

We are creative through our ideas.

We paint the pictures through our descriptions.

We spend all day and night perfecting our work.

And we employ every emotion and message into our work through our words.

We work as hard as an artist.

We are constantly practicing like an artist.

We are as creative as an artist.

And we are as expressive as an artist.

So you dare tell me I'm not at artist?

And you dare say that my talent is just words on paper?

Re-read this poem again,

and I dare you to tell me that my work isn't art!

(Image not mine)

------------------------------------------------------

My writing is more than just words on paper, it's beautiful picture but through

powerful,

descriptive,

expressive words.

So if those three words are what describes an artist, aren't I included under the category?

She was once full of light.

So much light that it was blinding yet beautiful.

She was once beautiful.

So beautiful that there was hardly any ugly in her.

She was once full of peace.

So much peace that there was hardly any fights.

Hardly any hatred between her children.

And she was once full of good.

So much good that the word "sin" had not yet existed in the dictionary.

But now...she's different.

She's now full of darkness.

So much darkness that there's hardly any light.

She's now ugly.

So ugly that she looks more like The Land of the Dead than The Land of the Living.

She's now full of war.

So much war that her very own children are killing each other over petty arguments that can easily be resolved.

And she now holds nothing but evil.

So much evil that there's hardly any good.

Hardly any understanding of the word "good."

She no longer has any color,

for she's now black and white.

Her heart is slowly breaking,

for there's nothing to mend it together.

She's slowly dying,

for she's unable to beat the deadly disease that she's been fighting for a long time.

And soon she will slowly fade away,

for we are responsible for all of her pain.

Dear Self,

You look at yourself as a nice person.

A nice,

outgoing,

talkative,

caring person who would do anything to make others smile.

In fact you focus on other people's happiness instead of your own,

being completely selfless.

You would think someone as nice as you would have friends who would adore you.

Friends who would always stand by your side in return for standing by theirs,

and friends who too would do anything to make you smile.

But instead you're alone.

You have no one that hangs around with you.

No one to keep you company.

No one to comfort you during the gloomy days.

And no one to make you smile inside and out.

The "friends" you make never seem to stay.

They never seem to really care about you.

They only seem to care about their needs and satisfaction.

So if you know that,

why do you keep trying to make them smile?

Why do you still let them use you?

Why would you have any sympathy for them?

And for once in your life, why won't you stop giving them more than a second chance, hoping they'll change when it's clear that they never will?

All this is just too much.

All this is ripping you apart.

And all this will eventually kill you.

You need to face the facts that no matter how good it is to put a smile on someone's face, doesn't mean they'll do the same for you.

Like most people in this world, they're going to leave at some point once they're satisfied with what they have,

leaving you alone,

depressed,

and permanently broken.

Face the fact that you'll always be forever alone.

And in a way, it's better off that way.

Sincerely

Your Head

I like to describe myself as outgoing.

Outgoing because I enjoy talking with people,

outgoing because I'm not afraid to say "hi" to a random stranger,

and outgoing because I refuse to stand by and wait for another person to say "hi."

I also like to describe myself as friendly.

Friendly because I'm not afraid to befriend random people,

friendly because I adore people for who they are and not by their "labels"

and friendly because I would do anything to put a smile on someone else's face...

than my own.

But of course, no one sees that,

no one notices it,

and no one cares.

They take advantage of my kindness;

using their words,

and false kindness as tricks to getting what they want from me.

They think that just because I'm outgoing,

talkative,

friendly,

and nice that I'm vulnerable...

when they don't know the other side of me.

The other side that's full of painful flashbacks.

Flashbacks of all the hard times,

of all the pain,

of all the loneliness,

and of all the tears I went through before becoming the person I am today.

The person who has learned to be strong,

to not so much as let my guard down with anyone,

and to always hide her pain with a smile.

I may seem vulnerable,

or weak for there's many times where someone will damage me,

but it doesn't mean I'm not strong.

I'm at least faking a smile to show that I'm alright.

For centuries her village has been consumed with fear.

Fear of the monsters that lurk in the forests around them,

killing and devouring the innocents at night.

To prevent the killings

each house has to leave out an offering on ever night of a full moon in order to satisfy the monsters that leak into mortal territory.

If they don't

then theses beasts go on a killing and eating frenzy.

But she isn't scared.

Not like many of her fellow citizens.

Her whole life she's been drawn to the forest,

craving adventure,

and possessing a strong curiosity that causes her to attempt the unthinkable.

She doesn't understand why the stories of the "Forest Monsters" never frightened her,

or why she craves adventure that no mortal would ever dare to attempt.

When she wanders off into the forest one night,

she encounters a wolf.

A wolf standing at the height of at least eight feet,

covered in brown fur that seems to shine under the moon's beam,

and yellow eyes that glow in the pitch dark of the forest.

But she's doesn't just encounter an ordinary wolf,

but a Lycan;

Half man and half wolf.

This Lycan is no threat to her.

In fact he's different from his kind.

Different in terms of his gentleness around her,

his character,

and him being the opposite of a "Forest Monster."

He may be her friend the more she becomes close to him,

but they're destined to be enemies

for his ancestors have terrorized her kind,

and her ancestor destroys his.

(Character description for "Hood")

His whole life he along with his brothers and sisters have been taught to kill.

To kill in order to survive,

kill to provide for the pack,

and kill because it's what they're born to do.

Although he's an expert tracker,

a clever hunter,

and a stronger leader than his siblings,

he has no desire in killing.

He doesn't want his kind to be feared,

hated,

or known as the "Forest Monsters."

He just wishes for his kind to live peacefully

instead of evilly.

When he goes on a nightly stroll one night,

he encounters a girl.

A girl with beautiful red hair that no mortal that he has ever seen posses,

blue eyes that seem to sparkle

without any signs of fear in them,

and pale beautiful skin that illuminates under the moon's beam.

But not only does he see her as an ordinary mortal with exotic features,

but he realizes she's a descendant of the Red Hood Huntress;

A huntress dressed in a red hood who's soul purpose is to eliminate all Lycans from existence in order to protect her people.

He knows he must stay away from her for she's a threat to him and the rest of his kind,

but he sees that she's different.

Different in terms of her confusion of who she truly is and her purpose,

different in terms of her personality,

and different in terms of her being the opposite of what he expected.

Although she's the first and only mortal who doesn't see him as the "Forest Monster,"

or has any desire or possible motive of killing him,

he knows they're destined to be enemies.

Enemies who will stop at nothing to try and eliminate each other in order to protect their kind.

(Character Description for "Hood")

She longs for a better life.

A life where her mother would always be home to protect her from the abusive monster they live and are enslaved by,

and a life where that monster,

- the monster that is her father-

would love both her and her mother

instead of drowning himself with alcohol and drugs.

She's tried talking to someone.

Someone who could possibly help or at the very least comfort her,

but nobody is willing to help or listen to her story.

Instead they refuse to believe her,

and simply wave it off as "fiction."

So she smiles.

Smiles to hide what she truly feels.

Smiles to blend in with everyone else around her.

And smiles to assure herself that everything will be okay...

although it never will.

When she meets him,

a boy physically and emotionally covered in darkness,

so mysterious as he tries his best to avoid the people around him,

but yet posses light whenever he makes eye contact with her,

she's able to forget about the hurt and pain that she's been feeling

and actually smile for its purpose.

She finds him to be understanding;

the first person to ever share the same pain that she's feeling.

Although she trusts him

unlike many others in her world,

she's afraid of revealing her story to him.

Afraid of his judgments,

and afraid of his refusal to help and listen to her.

He already brings the happiness she's been longing for,

and she will do whatever it takes to keep and cherish that feeling for as long as she can.

(Character Description of "Inside & Out")