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Watcher of the NightHe waits in the shadows
Watching and learning
Trying to resist
His unconquerable yearning
An actor of rare disguise
Covering half-truths with unfinished lies
His plans twist and turn
Taking years for fruition
After which he disappears
A forgotten apparition
While lesser men succumb
To the beckoning temptation
He stands regardless
Steadfast by his station
Vigil of the darkness
Watcher of the night
Countless men have tried
To evade his inhuman sight
He is the sum of his fears
For he chooses what he wants to be
He has uncertainties, he has doubts
But is afraid intentionally
He tends the shades of the mighty
And the shadows of the weak
Stifling their deceit
And plugging up the leaks
He watches and learns
Trying to fit in
But he'll soon realize
It's a battle he can't win
The cycle repeats
However hard he fights
But his fate is sealed
As Watcher of the Night
The True HeroThe true hero is not found
In the numbers of those slaughtered
The true hero is not he
Who kills senselessly
It matters not whether for life, country, or sanity
With wisdom, brutality, or resignation
No, the true hero is one
Who stands vigil at the forefront
Of his dying, sinking ship
Not fleeing, not running
To the comfort of life
He stands stoically
Now and forevermore
While beasts rise around him
And men fall beneath him
He stands to die
And nothing else
He sacrifices it all
When no one else is willing
Defending them all
By simply standing in place
He knows Death intimately
They are old comrades
Brushing arms occasionally
Throughout these long years
He knows its touch
Its scratchy whispers
But he is not afraid
He has nothing to lose now
And that gives him strength
Because sometimes it is true
That the best kind of fight
Is a hopeless one
For it is ironic that hope, most viciously
Favors the hopeless.
These Three WordsShe hears the words
But cannot accept them
That cherubic face
Those pearly eyes
So insecure of the blind truth
Why she can't see it, I wonder
I'm certain everyone else can
The mirror on her wall must lie
Jealous to the point of treachery
For how could it compare?
To that shining face, that flowing hair?
I whisper those three words
So that she may not doubt her senses
I whisper them so that she may know
I whisper them
And the blood thuds in her ears
What did he say?
It must not be true!
Each syllable rolls off my tongue
Sweet and innocent
As the morning dew
On a blade of grass
I savor them
As a man dying of thirst
Savors every last drop
As a man dying of hunger
Savors every last morsel
As a man struggling for air
Savors every last wisp
As a man clinging to life
May savor each passing second
I savor them to beckon the truth
To wash away the doubt
To show my belief
And as I speak
I know what I say to be true
My brain clicks into pl
Chronos is CruelHe sits patiently, upon gilded throne
Defying withering and aging of bone
On surface, all appears calm and steady
Unchanging as stone, forever ready
Appearing as an eccentric sage
Time holds no meaning for the cryptic mage
Beneath, his mind, fractured by time
Is a final haven, his sole lair
He can sleep, he can eat, he can talk, he can blink
But most dangerous of all, he can think
Think, for lack of a better word
His thoughts float free, unhindered but blurred
He gazes ironically
At the shifting world
At what destiny unfurled
His eyes, long gone
Stare at naught but time
He watches churlishly, blasé and wanton
Unable to see miracles sublime
The threads of time curl round his form
An unstoppable, immeasurable, mighty storm
He plays with them, then casts them back
Far from their intended track
Master of Time, Ruler of All
Waiting for eternity in his intangible hall
Chronos is cruel, Chronos is fey
A raving lunatic with feet of clay
Chronos is cruel, Chronos is biase
The New YearAs one shrinks and recedes
The other plants new seeds
Sinks all its tendrils deep
To make one mighty leap
On this great day
One year has turned gray
From this great day
Please, come what may!
One year has passed
But I yearn for more
I wish for knowledge amassed
From the pages of fairy folkore
Like a phoenix being reborn
One turns to ash
But waste no time to mourn
Because time passes in a flash
Why waste life worrying
Sit back and relax
Why waste life hurrying
Pity what Death lacks
The year has gone
The flowers wither
But a new light turns on
In this year, hither
No Man Left BehindThe wind pounds sleet into my face, drenching me in freezing water yet again. My gloved hands clutch the rope tightly, the only real thing in the swirling blizzard. At a lower altitude, I'd have climbed with bare hands, but at this height, not wearing gloves meant losing fingers to frostbite. Despite my thick gloves, I can feel the blisters on my hands. My entire body feels numb, the heavy-duty Gore-tex jacket that I wear over two other layers of clothing doing little to prevent the chill from seeping in. I shiver, and suddenly lose my footing, stumbling into the snow.
"Careful," my climbing buddy, Mike, says, his voice muffled by his scarf. "It's a dangerous place up here."
It was true. The mountain was a tough beast to conquer. Annapurna, the third-tallest mountain in the Himalayas and one of the tallest in the world, had a deadly arsenal that it was just itching to unleash on me. It's one the most inhospitable places on—or off— the planet: it's said that it's easier to be rescued f
Pain InsideI gazed into the depths of the flickering flames. The embers sparked, throwing blazing motes into the air. The blaze devoured the wood greedily, twisting to reach every part of it. It would not relinquish that death grip, would not be satisfied, until it had completely consumed it.
The wood was surprisingly similar to me, I thought. Being slowly eaten away, falling into ash. Crumbling gradually away into nothingness. I shook my head. Getting damned maudlin.
A couple came next to the fireplace, standing next to me. Not too old, in their twenties, I guess. They were holding hands and smiling, having a good time. The guy said something, and the girl laughed. I could see their fingers tighten in their grip, hands intertwined. My eyes hardened, and I turned and walked away, my face unreadable.
Love was for others. Not me. Love's arrow never struck me where it mattered. It nipped me cruelly on occasion, drawing fresh blood. It had torn holes in me, gaping wounds. How had I recovered,
The Lady of the WoodsHe sat up, suddenly alert. He was sure he'd heard something.
Looking around, he saw nothing but shadows, caused no doubt by the pale moonlight filtering through the branches of the trees. But he'd heard something, he was certain of it; albeit little more than a whisper. He attributed it to the rustling of the dead leaves coating the frozen earth, and went back to his book.
But the leaves lay stiff and immobile, as they had all night. There had been no breeze to make them whisper.
The rough bark of the tree dug into his back, and he struggled momentarily to reposition himself. As he did, the book fell from his grasp and tumbled to the ground. He made a small noise of annoyance, and reached out to pick it up.
His hand froze, inches from the book. His eyes were wide. Standing up, the book forgotten for now, he called out.
No response. He was really getting creeped out now. He grabbed the book and stuffed it unceremoniously into his bag, slinging it over his sh
Rains of SorrowThe rain is pouring
Pouring down sorrows
Pouring down visions
Of what will happen on the morrow
I know I cannot stop it
But at least I can try
Fling my arms wide open,
And beg mercy from the sky
O my lord Zeus!
Why must you plague me?
I played your games, stepped in your traps
I gambled dice with the tendrils of Destiny
What do I get,
For a half-broken wish?
Sorrow upon sorrow
Despair and anguish
Rain, rain, please go away
If you must, come back another day
Come when I am happy and bright,
Come when I have truly found sight
Go trouble the old man,
Sleeping on his porch
Don't harass me
Holder of Fate's torch
Lest it blow out,
Lest the flames die,
I can do nothing
But sit down and cry
Cry for the future, cry for the past
But however bad they are, the present is worse
The present's not a gift
The present is a curse
Graveyard of my dreams,
Dreams that never came true
Dreams of me walking
Slowly towards you
But then you pass by,
Without sparing a glance
This is destiny
Not the child of chan
EnigmaMystery is the element that bounds the unknown to reality
Something new to what we know
A world filled with secrecy to make it so
Mystery is the puzzle before the answer becomes clear
The silent riddle to discover
A hidden message to uncover
Mystery is words we hide to keep oneself unique
Those whispered words that no one hears
The fear of not knowing reappears
Mystery is what keeps us intrigued
The enigma itself remains in you
as it does in me
Stay this way... Stay unique
As this way there will always be something new to know
Even as we speak...
I'll wipe off your tearsTrust me when I say this, everything will be alright
I’ll be here, to comfort you every moment of your life
Cry on my chest if you like, only if it lets you feel right
Because I will always be here, right by your side
I know some things can be unexpected,
And sometimes the bad can’t be evaded
But I’ll try my best, so you can be able to rest
And I’ll try my best to relieve you from stress
Because I care too much to leave you with pain
It tears my heart to see you like this again
You’ve told me to step back, but it's too sad and tiring
I promise you, this will be the last time you’ll be crying
Broken HeartsWhenever we imagine a broken heart it's always split down in the middle with little zig-zaggy lines, but is that really how hearts break? No, they don't break in two they slowly start to decay starting in the middle. At first it's just a small hole nothing much to worry about then it grows bigger and bigger. It sucks you in and you feel like there is no possible way of filling that terrible void of nothingness up. There is though. Everything can be healed in time. Nothing is unsavable. There is always a way. You just have to keep your head up put a smile on and try. Don't lose hope. Don't think that its worthless, because it's not. You are not. Your heart can be healed. Your sorrow can become a thing of your past that you can look back upon and learn from you just have to try first. Always try.
Dreaming? (Message in Silence)Late at night...
is this it what I feel?
Am I only dreaming
or is it real?
Your hand gently
resting on my hips
and your feverish mouth
plants a kiss on my lips.
Your body close to mine,
Awaken, I'd feel my body burning;
dreaming, so is my heart.
Isn't it insane
a moment like this?
You, here, so close,
and I can't give you kiss.
Why am I so tired?
Why I feel so numb?
Please, wait just a little more, dear,
the day is about to come.
The Shadow CasterI didn't want to ruin my sister's life. I didn't want to hurt her at all. Yeah, she got on my nerves pretty often, but I never wanted anything to happen to her. My mother always joked that I'd kill her and anyone else who tried.
But it might be too late.
It all started with the number 19. 19 points out of 100 on a test, to be exact. An English test, on top of that - my sister and I were both blessed with a natural command over words.
But a test like this could not be helped by a gift with language. It was a stems test - you know those, right? Prefixes and suffixes and all? Those could only be memorized, and my dear sister wasn't one to put in the effort. I was, though. I always put the effort, and it paid off every time.
My father yelled. She cried. We're Indians, you see, and education is always number one - it even dominated religion in our home. Test on Monday? Fine, don't go to church today. Stay home and study.
While everyone was yelling and crying, I quietly slipped out the house
The BulliedThe Bullied.
He never enjoyed going to school.
He used to bunk whenever he had the chance.
Although he was not one for breaking the rules.
He refused to submit to their ignorant demands.
He told his teachers about his problems.
How he got bullied every lunch and break time.
They said they would find a rapid way to solve them.
Somehow his confessions filtered through the grape vine.
The bullying became more intense and extreme.
He began wearing long sleeved t-shirts to hide the marks.
He knew his parents would only label him as a troubled teen.
But he yearned for their understanding and supportive remarks.
Eventually he tried talking to his dad about it.
But ironically he wasn't best known for his listening.
Besides his home was always too noisy and overcrowded.
He was sure that they wouldn't notice if he was to even go missing.
His only friends were online and on facebook.
Every night you could hear him typing away in his room.
His mother started to wonder how long this phase took
BoredomIt makes time creep,
makes everything seem dull.
I'd rather sleep
than endure it.
Like trudging through muck,
like watching grass grow,
it makes things just...suck.
Won't it just go away?
A bland, dragging carousel
that never, ever ends.
I guess it's just as well.
Boredom's part of life.
A Deal with the DemonShe lay beneath the sun's searing flare
Her blood dripping
Into the silver river
Running down her cheeks
And through her hair
"Goodbye," she told the world
Once, this girl was a wealthy princess
Once she was too precious and priceless
Once, she wore the most beautiful dresses
She danced in balls of golden floors
They say the princess made a horrible deal
A deal with the demon of the gold and steel
They say the demon would give her a wheel
Of gold and diamonds if she let him "heal"
Her poor tired soul
The princess agreed for the wheel was tempting
In a matter of seconds her soul was empty
And the demon took over and was now attempting
To rule the whole kingdom and run it his way
The kingdom was corrupted, turned upside-down
And the king was murdered right beneath his crown
And the farmer was homeless and the doctor a clown
And the people rebelling, destroying each town
So they hunted the princess then left her to drown
Now the demon believed that his princess was useless
So he left her
One sided loveI see him everyday, every moment my eyes follow him everywhere but...
I see you everyday,
Every moment my eyes follow you,
Your every step, every smile.
I've never felt tired to follow-
Your foot steps everywhere.
Every time you fill my
Thirsty eyes with desire.
My every thought
Just want to follow you always.
Like an endless book,
I read you everyday,
But you'll never know.
I want to tell my feelings for him many times. I want to write a letter to him, but...
I want to write a letter
To tell you something
Deep from my heart,
In a summer morning.
But they were lost-
In a rainy evening.
I want to tell you many times
Many autumns are passed
But mists of the winter
Clouded my thoughts.
At last in a spring
I want to tell you
The deepest truth of my heart
But the words were lost again.
My every moment passes just dreaming about him, but...
Everyone wants to know
Who you are, sitting on my heart,
Walking like a shadow
In my every thoughts.
My every breaths just
Wants to u
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More