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Literature Text
A stranger walked by a crying little girl,
Tear and blood stains on her sleeves
He asked, "Darling are you okay?" She nodded.
He took her heart and then took leave.
A small boy crossed the little girl,
Mascara crawling down her face,
He asked how she was and she sighed, "Fine."
He grabbed her toys and left with no trace.
A lonely mother glanced at the girl,
Bleeding out in the middle of the street.
She asked her nothing, too weighed down with grief,
And stole the shoes off the young girl's feet.
The girl's soul mate was crawling by,
Bleeding, in pain, with a fever hot.
When the girl lied and said she was okay,
He kissed her and whispered, "No you're not."
Tear and blood stains on her sleeves
He asked, "Darling are you okay?" She nodded.
He took her heart and then took leave.
A small boy crossed the little girl,
Mascara crawling down her face,
He asked how she was and she sighed, "Fine."
He grabbed her toys and left with no trace.
A lonely mother glanced at the girl,
Bleeding out in the middle of the street.
She asked her nothing, too weighed down with grief,
And stole the shoes off the young girl's feet.
The girl's soul mate was crawling by,
Bleeding, in pain, with a fever hot.
When the girl lied and said she was okay,
He kissed her and whispered, "No you're not."
Literature
I Am....
I am the loud but hidden girl.
I wonder about the sheltered thoughts of others.
I hear the butterfly's wings flapping in crushes stomachs.
I see lies flicker behind smiling eyes.
I want to comfort the people in pain.
I am the loud but hidden girl.
I pretend to be the one altering lives.
I feel the pain others sense.
I touch the inner tears we hide.
I worry that individuals are in agony.
I cry for those who hide in a crowd.
I am the loud but hidden girl.
I understand not everyone can be blissful.
I say it is something the whole world should fight for.
I dream of a life full of smiles.
I admire those who strive to help these peop
Literature
I'm Not the Marrying Kind
I'm not the marrying kind.
I have stones in my hair instead of flowers,
And a rosebush of thorns is more poignant to me.
I'm not the marrying kind.
My words aren't pretty or wise,
And I can't sing about anything but a broken heart.
I'm not the marrying kind.
I am the sort of damaged you see in an old recorder,
And the kind of old in an instrument that breaks into a billion pieces at a touch.
I'm not the marrying kind.
Neither neat, nor tidy, nor correct in my behavior,
And yes, I did in fact tell you to fuck yourself.
I'm not the marrying kind.R
Literature
Tears
She was the girl with eyes of burnt amber. But her eyes weren't always that way. It came from hiding a truth so harsh that her beautiful eyes had turned dark. She swore she could never fall in love.
He was the boy with a face shaped like a broken heart. But his face wasn't always that way either. It came from caring so much about someone that his heart was scratched in cruel, manicured fingers, mangled beyond belief. He swore he would never love again.
They met in a spinal corridor. Then in a courtyard. Then in a room which had a broken window. And finally in a doorway that was too small. And she was crying.
Diamond tears from burnt amber
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i wish, just wish someone would do that for me
© 2012 - 2024 Emerald-Alexandria
Comments33
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This is beautiful! It makes me want to be the kind of guy that says "No your not."
I really appreciate writers like you! Keep up the great work!