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Literature Text
The boy with the glasses
Puts them on
And sees the world
For what it truly is
Cruelty, loneliness
He sees
Anger, frustration
He sees
And it is all too much
He can't take
Their expectations
Their rules, their ways
He would rather just see the world
Through his own blinded eyes
So he takes the glasses off
Not wanting to see
He takes the glasses off
To forget.
Puts them on
And sees the world
For what it truly is
Cruelty, loneliness
He sees
Anger, frustration
He sees
And it is all too much
He can't take
Their expectations
Their rules, their ways
He would rather just see the world
Through his own blinded eyes
So he takes the glasses off
Not wanting to see
He takes the glasses off
To forget.
Literature
Questions
Questions always remain,
an inquisitive, grasping claw
creating mind wrecking pain
as wondering opens its maw.
There they lay wait
to build and flow
seeming to anticipate
when I let my mind go.
Why are you saying this now?
Will we meet again somehow?
Did you even truly care?
Were you really there?
Did you actually use me?
What led you to abuse me?
Why do you still choose to watch?
Are you really thinking with your crotch?
Can you for once tell the truth?
Did you think your actions will only impact your youth?
Why on earth did you do that?
Do you know that you really are a sleazy rat?
Are you really that clueless?
Do you
Literature
Soul of a Writer
I see a blank page, and I feel a spark inside my heart. The spark ignites my mind, raising its ever-glowing embers to a slowly building flame. The cold white blankness of the page angers me.
Wasted potential, that's what it is. Any space of white could be used. I stare into its emptiness and my mind begins to turn its gears. My hand itches for a pen.
I am a writer and my soul is fire. This page shall feel my flame.
I need to bring heat to the paper and that is what the words are. Hot. The black ink smolders on the white of the paper. The words charge from my mind, down my arm and on to the page.
They are the army of my soul, warriors of f
Literature
Mummy's Boy
DAY 1
Well look, she awakes, from her slumber so sweet.
How are you feeling? How did you sleep?
Oh Mummy, dear Mummy, why do you cry?
Is it because of this knife? This one in your side?
Does it hurt when I twist it? When I move it slow?
How about when I force it as deep as it'll go?
Now, now, be still. Please try not to scream
Or those stitches will tear and your lips will bleed.
Now Mummy, I must go, I have guests on the way.
Don't worry, I'll be back. We have more games to play.
DAY 2
They say I have your eyes, "so deep and so blue;
A vision of beauty, honesty and virtue",
Oh how naive they are, how simple, how vain.
Your eyes of 'i
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The boy with the glasses.
He's appalled by the world. He doesn't want to face the horror.
He's appalled by the world. He doesn't want to face the horror.
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Aww. 