DeletedUser29066
Guest
I find that I've grown quite fond of the little bugger, which I believe is somewhere just above like on the affection scale.
I find that I've grown quite fond of the little bugger, which I believe is somewhere just above like on the affection scale.
DeletedUser33530
Guest
I'm chief minion!!! Hell ya.
And damn, pebble just got acquaintance zoned
*looks up from sharpening knifes*
I'm on master's sidethis is what you get for delaying work on your other stories
Well.....
Almost took you 24 hours
DeletedUser
Guest
DeletedUser
Guest
this forum is supposed to be family friendly.
DeletedUser33530
Guest
You are the last person on earth who has any right to call another person out on not being family friendly
DeletedUser8396
Guest
Preach.
DeletedUser18132
Guest
<3 <3 <3 <3
DeletedUser8396
Guest
DeletedUser
Guest
I did. but they didn't think my hell jokes were funny.
DeletedUser
Guest
Awesome job, Pebble! You have far greater determination than I ever will.
(Also, sorry about borderline hijacking your thread... I don't know why, but I seem to have stalkers.)
(Also, sorry about borderline hijacking your thread... I don't know why, but I seem to have stalkers.)
DeletedUser8396
Guest
Awesome job, Pebble! You have far greater determination than I ever will.
(Also, sorry about borderline hijacking your thread... I don't know why, but I seem to have stalkers.)
Hahaha, it's fine.
And thank ya! I'm gonna try it again (MUCH later), but prepare topics beforehand. Your link really helped!
DeletedUser33530
Guest
Awesome job, Pebble! You have far greater determination than I ever will.
(Also, sorry about borderline hijacking your thread... I don't know why, but I seem to have stalkers.)
*looks up from binoculars*
he's onto us. Run!
DeletedUser8396
Guest
A Ghost
I am the ghost,
The terror you can’t see.
Invisible to perception,
A secretive monstrosity
Captivated by death,
Characterized by defeat.
A soul longing for redemption-
With a heart you can never meet
I am a demon,
With darkness all I am,
Corrupt, polluted, destroyed-
Dying til I am eternally damned.
I am an angel,
A love with no bounds!
But a ghost cannot express it,
Forbidden to make a sound.
But I am not invisible,
No, you’ve just closed your eyes.
I am still here begging to be seen,
While you continue to believe your own lies.
You didn’t want to see me!
Didn’t want to hear my voice!
Because the moment I exist,
You cannot change your choice.
In me you see pain,
In me, you feel death.
All the screams, all the terror,
Everything from our first breath.
You would rather cease to believe,
Than recognize this life’s pain.
Rather deafen yourself to truth,
Until only false deceptions remain.
I am your depression,
Your desperation, your grief.
But only once I am addressed,
Will you achieve such long sought relief.
Please, open your eyes,
See me for all I consist.
For I am your ghost-
And you can choose if I exist.
I am the ghost,
The terror you can’t see.
Invisible to perception,
A secretive monstrosity
Captivated by death,
Characterized by defeat.
A soul longing for redemption-
With a heart you can never meet
I am a demon,
With darkness all I am,
Corrupt, polluted, destroyed-
Dying til I am eternally damned.
I am an angel,
A love with no bounds!
But a ghost cannot express it,
Forbidden to make a sound.
But I am not invisible,
No, you’ve just closed your eyes.
I am still here begging to be seen,
While you continue to believe your own lies.
You didn’t want to see me!
Didn’t want to hear my voice!
Because the moment I exist,
You cannot change your choice.
In me you see pain,
In me, you feel death.
All the screams, all the terror,
Everything from our first breath.
You would rather cease to believe,
Than recognize this life’s pain.
Rather deafen yourself to truth,
Until only false deceptions remain.
I am your depression,
Your desperation, your grief.
But only once I am addressed,
Will you achieve such long sought relief.
Please, open your eyes,
See me for all I consist.
For I am your ghost-
And you can choose if I exist.
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DeletedUser8396
Guest
Pain Behind the Mirror
I am the pain behind the mirror,
The misery behind the mask.
I am lasting, I am eternal,
You cannot bury me beneath a flask.
I am not something hidden by drugs,
Not something silenced through a knife.
I am the one who speaks through silence
Friction against the force behind your life
I am a poison that you must drink.
A lie you cannot refuse to hear.
I am a parasite in your mind,
Feeding off your blood and tears.
I am! I am! You cannot deny me,
You know this, you’ve tried before.
I am the cage around your happiness,
And there is no key to the door.
I am the pain behind the mirror,
The misery behind the mask.
I am lasting, I am eternal,
You cannot bury me beneath a flask.
I am not something hidden by drugs,
Not something silenced through a knife.
I am the one who speaks through silence
Friction against the force behind your life
I am a poison that you must drink.
A lie you cannot refuse to hear.
I am a parasite in your mind,
Feeding off your blood and tears.
I am! I am! You cannot deny me,
You know this, you’ve tried before.
I am the cage around your happiness,
And there is no key to the door.
DeletedUser33530
Guest
Damn it man I was having good day.
DeletedUser
Guest
This poem is weird!
DeletedUser33530
Guest
What did you expect?
DeletedUser
Guest
water is wet!
DeletedUser8396
Guest
Robes before Stars
I know you. I’ve seen you before, long before – but I remember your face, your kind, soft, innocent face. I remember you from years ago, when you were a happy child, long before this time came to pass. You were happy, gleeful beyond what you were prophesied to become. Beautiful. Perfect. But slowly you received a spot. A small, black spot- placed right over your heart. At first it was nothing, you thought nothing of it. One black spot, one small black spec, in the midst of your glorious robes of white. You would have let it go unnoticed. You would have. They wouldn’t. No, they saw the spec on your robes, and instead of addressing their own pollutions, their own corruptions, their own pain, they focused on your short comings, your inadequacies, your pain and abandonment. For it was easier for them to focus on you than themselves. The more they pointed out your black spec, it began to grow. Daily and daily it grew, day upon day, inching it’s radius ever further across your heart. Beginning to spread, the black spec transformed and transcended itself from a spec to a spot, a spot to a mark, a mark to a stain, and a stain changing the once pristine robes you once wore into a tainted, gray scaled black, tattered robe.
You wore this robe as a badge, a Scarlett Letter. Not across your heart or chest, no – that would be too succinct. Your pain had to scream itself out to the world until there was not a soul within it’s influence that had not heard its song. The robe became your identity, the robe your only being. You pain your identity, the sound of the fabric brushing against itself your voice and song. All the while you wore your sackcloth and ash, trying to mourn away the loss and hurt, the others came to your side, but they were of no good will. No, they came to your side for the sole purpose of pushing you down. They only lifted you up on their shoulders for a moment, simply to make the fall to the ground all the more dramatically painful. They were no Samaritan to your cause, and you knew this. But you were desperate- desperate for the hope of a friend. Willing to stretch out your hand to the unlikeliest of friends or foes, never knowing or considering they would eventually turn their kissing smile into a biting, betraying kiss.
I know- I knew you. I saw you long before, long before all this ever happened. I’ve seen you all. No, you are not alone. There are thousands upon millions that wear the black, tattered robes. Few still have their robe still without at least one mark. But only those where the mark has personified the person is the damage so fatiguing, so damaging and desolating. Millions feel as you do, all with different reasons under the robe. Each one asks the same question: “Why me?” I’m sure you’ve asked this question as well. Whether whispering the phrase quietly to yourself in the night for a sense of comfort or screaming it to the sky in hopes of an answer. But the skies have no answer to give, for the answer was already given yet forgotten.
Why you? Why were you given this burden? Why were you the one with the broken family? The dead sibling? The mirror that never seems to act up to expectation? The daily visitation session with wolves masquerading as friends tearing away at your soul? The mental instability? The razor that seems to have red stains that cannot be washed away with water or time? The gun that is loaded and unloaded each night before you lay down before the very mirror you despise? The bottle of pills piled ten stories high, all with a unique tale to tell? The noose that has been tied around into a knot a thousand times over? Why YOU! Why! Why were you given this burden? Because you are the one made strong enough to survive. You were the strength that others saw and sought to weaken. The unstoppable force coupled with a will to press on that terrified them into making you less of a power. You were made to be great, and they saw this- so they tried and will continue to try and defeat you- to tear you down with words before you see your true potential. That is why I am here. To show you. Look at all of this! See what you have seen, come against, and still breathe after which. Yes, you may have desired the breath to cease, but you pressed on because you were stronger than the very thing the others thought you would fall to- depression. Words were their weapon, but a beautiful heart and will was your defense. They hadn’t a chance.
I know, this may not be over. In fact, I promise it will continue. But the beauty of the situation is, when you have reached the worst it could be, the only position you are left is upward. You see, they are fools. They think that by pushing you down that you will not amount to anything, that you will be too broken, too shattered. Sometimes they win, if one stays wallowing In pity and pain, but those that are pushed to the bottom-they are the grandest of us all. For when they were forced to the bottom, they could only look to the sky. They saw the moon reflecting the light from the sun and aspired to do the same. They picked themselves up, put on their tattered robe with pride and soared beyond what they could have ever imagined. This is you. This is what you will become.
So, why you? Because you are being made into something to rise and be a light grander and higher than anyone would have permitted. Pick up your tattered robe, look at far you have fallen, and proceed to soar. The other stars have already cleared a spot.
I know you. I’ve seen you before, long before – but I remember your face, your kind, soft, innocent face. I remember you from years ago, when you were a happy child, long before this time came to pass. You were happy, gleeful beyond what you were prophesied to become. Beautiful. Perfect. But slowly you received a spot. A small, black spot- placed right over your heart. At first it was nothing, you thought nothing of it. One black spot, one small black spec, in the midst of your glorious robes of white. You would have let it go unnoticed. You would have. They wouldn’t. No, they saw the spec on your robes, and instead of addressing their own pollutions, their own corruptions, their own pain, they focused on your short comings, your inadequacies, your pain and abandonment. For it was easier for them to focus on you than themselves. The more they pointed out your black spec, it began to grow. Daily and daily it grew, day upon day, inching it’s radius ever further across your heart. Beginning to spread, the black spec transformed and transcended itself from a spec to a spot, a spot to a mark, a mark to a stain, and a stain changing the once pristine robes you once wore into a tainted, gray scaled black, tattered robe.
You wore this robe as a badge, a Scarlett Letter. Not across your heart or chest, no – that would be too succinct. Your pain had to scream itself out to the world until there was not a soul within it’s influence that had not heard its song. The robe became your identity, the robe your only being. You pain your identity, the sound of the fabric brushing against itself your voice and song. All the while you wore your sackcloth and ash, trying to mourn away the loss and hurt, the others came to your side, but they were of no good will. No, they came to your side for the sole purpose of pushing you down. They only lifted you up on their shoulders for a moment, simply to make the fall to the ground all the more dramatically painful. They were no Samaritan to your cause, and you knew this. But you were desperate- desperate for the hope of a friend. Willing to stretch out your hand to the unlikeliest of friends or foes, never knowing or considering they would eventually turn their kissing smile into a biting, betraying kiss.
I know- I knew you. I saw you long before, long before all this ever happened. I’ve seen you all. No, you are not alone. There are thousands upon millions that wear the black, tattered robes. Few still have their robe still without at least one mark. But only those where the mark has personified the person is the damage so fatiguing, so damaging and desolating. Millions feel as you do, all with different reasons under the robe. Each one asks the same question: “Why me?” I’m sure you’ve asked this question as well. Whether whispering the phrase quietly to yourself in the night for a sense of comfort or screaming it to the sky in hopes of an answer. But the skies have no answer to give, for the answer was already given yet forgotten.
Why you? Why were you given this burden? Why were you the one with the broken family? The dead sibling? The mirror that never seems to act up to expectation? The daily visitation session with wolves masquerading as friends tearing away at your soul? The mental instability? The razor that seems to have red stains that cannot be washed away with water or time? The gun that is loaded and unloaded each night before you lay down before the very mirror you despise? The bottle of pills piled ten stories high, all with a unique tale to tell? The noose that has been tied around into a knot a thousand times over? Why YOU! Why! Why were you given this burden? Because you are the one made strong enough to survive. You were the strength that others saw and sought to weaken. The unstoppable force coupled with a will to press on that terrified them into making you less of a power. You were made to be great, and they saw this- so they tried and will continue to try and defeat you- to tear you down with words before you see your true potential. That is why I am here. To show you. Look at all of this! See what you have seen, come against, and still breathe after which. Yes, you may have desired the breath to cease, but you pressed on because you were stronger than the very thing the others thought you would fall to- depression. Words were their weapon, but a beautiful heart and will was your defense. They hadn’t a chance.
I know, this may not be over. In fact, I promise it will continue. But the beauty of the situation is, when you have reached the worst it could be, the only position you are left is upward. You see, they are fools. They think that by pushing you down that you will not amount to anything, that you will be too broken, too shattered. Sometimes they win, if one stays wallowing In pity and pain, but those that are pushed to the bottom-they are the grandest of us all. For when they were forced to the bottom, they could only look to the sky. They saw the moon reflecting the light from the sun and aspired to do the same. They picked themselves up, put on their tattered robe with pride and soared beyond what they could have ever imagined. This is you. This is what you will become.
So, why you? Because you are being made into something to rise and be a light grander and higher than anyone would have permitted. Pick up your tattered robe, look at far you have fallen, and proceed to soar. The other stars have already cleared a spot.
DeletedUser8396
Guest
The Forgotten Sun
I stand upon the brinks,
On the shores of the beyond.
Looking out at the horizon,
I see the Sun craft the day’s end.
The Circle of flame falls below,
Light bidding me farewell.
A solemn letter of goodbye,
That it may no longer dwell.
This precious evening light,
Departs like a long held friend-
A soft voice and kind face,
Now taken away by the earth’s bend.
Now Shadow has come,
Shrouding the light I love
In darkness my joy abides,
Abandoned from the light above
An evil falls upon the people,
As hope slowly slips away.
They need something to believe-
They need the wonder of the day
Songs of woe and desperation,
Stories of death and despair
Permeate throughout the city,
And of hope? Ne’er a prayer.
But the Sun has been forgotten,
Its light becoming old myth.
I doubt any hope will return,
The Sun must come again forthwith.
But I know the Sun shines still,
Though the clouds leave me bereft.
One day- one day they will see,
That the light never truly left.
I stand upon the brinks,
On the shores of the beyond.
Looking out at the horizon,
I see the Sun craft the day’s end.
The Circle of flame falls below,
Light bidding me farewell.
A solemn letter of goodbye,
That it may no longer dwell.
This precious evening light,
Departs like a long held friend-
A soft voice and kind face,
Now taken away by the earth’s bend.
Now Shadow has come,
Shrouding the light I love
In darkness my joy abides,
Abandoned from the light above
An evil falls upon the people,
As hope slowly slips away.
They need something to believe-
They need the wonder of the day
Songs of woe and desperation,
Stories of death and despair
Permeate throughout the city,
And of hope? Ne’er a prayer.
But the Sun has been forgotten,
Its light becoming old myth.
I doubt any hope will return,
The Sun must come again forthwith.
But I know the Sun shines still,
Though the clouds leave me bereft.
One day- one day they will see,
That the light never truly left.
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