Wendy Withstands
Wendy’s wallet wastes; waitress wage woes. Wendy weakens wheezing, wonders wordlessly where women win. Wrathful wrongdoers winch whiplash. Wallflower wings whisper wanton whims, wounds wrecking wisdom. Wendy wanders weeping, weakly wasting wonderment. Woozy whiskey winks, watching winter wildflowers wither.
Wendy’s will wakes, water washes warmly. Witchy wharf winds whip. Wry Wendy wields worth, wrapping wolves’ wisdom within. Woe wizens, wry wonderment waves wriggling wreathes. Winged whimsy waltzes, worries withdraw. Warbling wily webs wind westward. Worlds wonder what winsome Wendy will want.
Love, Forgive Me
I did what I did. Projection is the murderer of all things genuine. I, for years, dreamed and toiled with secret thoughts of what love is and was to be. Small smiles went unnoticed as this boy dreamed away of future days. Moments past in a bleary pit against my deepest dreary. I could see them all there, in places longing for a home here in the world. The price of their admittance was the clarity of reality. Emotions colored the sky and breathed the light of starlit life warming the night. I knew deep in the chasms of my soul the things I saw were not of my world. All deranged images whose lust was hidden from sight. Not even mine own eyes could see them in the mirror for they had stolen those too. I was lost and I did what I did. We were never, and in all those years of yearning for us to be a truth—I killed that which was you. I, a villain, stole trust and twisted lies onto you. I was a wicked fool. It was not you that rushed in, but I that burst out through the gates of mine heart. I lead astray by demons disguised as doves of hope and I became death murder masquerading as love—Oh! Love, why must you have two sides one so full of joy men like me know nothing of and then be a black vindictive hatred on the dark side of a twilight's moon. And with dusk comes what I know to be true; that in the end I truly never loved you. So, forgive me and my words for these are the only truth I give thee and they will hold till death do us part.
Forgive me, Love
He Was Thinking
He was thinking
That lies came to his lips
Faster than they used to
And he wondered
At what moment
He became this way
He was thinking
That he used to listen
For birds out the window
Try to identify them
By their chirp
Now he only hears
The heater turning on
When he is staring at the wall
He was thinking
That it was all his thinking
That changed him
And he wondered
At what moment
He locked himself away
His smile never seemed
To touch his eyes
And so he went outside
And shut his eyes
And waited
For the next bird
To fly by
Crack
Hey, hey, hey!
What's going on?
Two minutes of staring
It's giving me nothing!
I can't write anything
But the words are coming out
Let's enjoy this 'till we're all insane
Which I am already, nyet?
Let it in
Let's begin!
Hey, hey, hey!
What's on?
A minute of writing
Blank words on a blank page
I'm spitting words
Nothing's coming out
Spit, blow, swallow
Choke on all the emptiness!
Hey, hey, hey!
Are you enjoying this?
I hope so
Because it's nothing!
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My friends swear I'm on drugs.
I'm not.
Well, I don't think so...
:3
What Makes Life Worth Living According to Lightning
Love. Friends. Family. Flirting. Teasing. Running. Music. Singing. Recording. Writing. Prosing. Drawing. Bonds. Fanfiction. Poetry. Confidence. Happiness. Life.
Pain. Anger. Fury. Revenge. Blood. Torment. Tormenting. Sadism. Masochism. Grief. Failure. Destroying. Breaking. Bones. Sadness. Death.
Everything.
You can't have happiness without pain.
That's life for me.
If a day is happy completely, my life doesn't feel full and accomplished. It has to have some failure, some sadness. Something bad, something good. That's what makes life livable for me.
You have to have some bad for the good.
Those storybooks aren't always right. There's not always a happy ending.
Good doesn't have to win in order for the world to live happy. There always has to be a balance.
Yin and Yang.
Black and White.
Sad and Happy.
That's what makes life worth living for, and what makes death worth dying for.
The Fence
Once, there was a girl who lived by a white fence.
The fence stood at the edge of a plateau, overlooking a vast canyon.
The canyon was so deep the bottom never saw light.
The girl lived in a cottage grown from the red stone of the plateau. There, she lived quietly, tending her house, and going for walks along the fence.
She had a friend, a boy, who lived inland from the canyon. He would visit the edge, now and again, and walk along the fence when all was still. From time to time, they would find each other, and she would walk back with him to his house, then return to her own in the evenings.
Some time ago, a section of her fence collapsed, rotted and eaten from within by parasites. The wood of the posts had been inferior quality, hidden under the white paint.
Her friend brought strong, new wood, and rebuilt the fence for her. She left the new section unpainted, so she would always know where it was.
She began to visit her friend more often, but always she returned to her red house by the white fence.
One evening, her friend followed her back to the fence, for he had realized that it was she who lived in the tiny place of stone by the edge.
He found her standing at the section of new wood, gazing down into the canyon. There was no light but the tiny lamp at her feet.
He took her hand, and tried to take her home--not to the lonely place of stone in which she slept, but his house among the trees, inland. The house of red stone was not safe, so close to the canyon.
She refused to go.
Life by the canyon was quiet, and no one bothered her so long as the fence was whole and strong. She could walk along the fence even in the dark, and not have to worry about wandering off the plateau. Even when part of it had failed, he had made it new again. It had been a kindness, a blessing--she was not strong enough to repair such a large section of fence so quickly on her own. Always, she was too weary.
Again, he tried to lead her away, back to the home of wood and warmth.
Again, she protested that she was too weary, and life inland was not quiet. She had made a place for herself here. She was safe, because the fence would always stand, even long after he had left.
Almost til morning, they stayed there, by the bare wood, lit by a lamp just bright enough to see each other by.
And finally, when first light began peeking over the canyon, when she thought he would walk away, when he thought his heart would break, she let him carry her home.
He never stumbled, not once.
She remembers. She will always remember.
Now and again, she thinks of the canyon, and goes to visit her little red house, and walk along her old fence.
And, without fail, he finds her, and leads her home.
“Love Wins”
"Love Wins" means that, literally, love has triumphed.
It means that we can love freely, we can love whoever and whatever we want.
It means that I'm allowed to love boys, girls, people of any gender.
It means that, after so many obstacles, we have finally given thought to those who don't go with the majority.
It means that I can come out as straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, or even aromantic.
It means to me that we can be free with whom we love.
It means that love doesn't have to be restricted to one gender, or even genders at all.
It means that we've finally realised that maybe the cursed, strange ones aren't so strange at all.
They're like us.
It's like favorite ice cream flavors.
Do you love boys, or girls? Or both?
Do you love one person? Two? Three?
"Love Wins" means that nothing can bar our way to true love.
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I don't know who the picture's by.
Pairing- USUK: America and England from APH, credit Himaruya Hidekaz.