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UntitledThe stress within me follows my every move,
Throughout these troubled times I see myself as a faint shadow of whom I used to be
Yet in other times I see myself as nothing but a failure to the place from which I come
Not a day goes by that I even look to myself as someone of any value yet I manage to make it through these days just scraping by hoping for the the faintest whiff of what lies over these next hills for they are clouded in a mist full of hatred and despair. I want to enter it, to feel it, for it to consume my entire being. Yet pressing forward in such a manner is not who I truly am.
I must stand my ground and walk this shadowed path winding slowly through the swamps and the trees. A jungle at times it almost feels, but at other times it appears to be quite empty. Like there really isn't anything there that can do me any real harm.
Let the rain fallAs the water falls down
I sit within
All around me it hits gently
Calming Soothing Painful
It hides much within its grace
Yet brakes down the strongest of stone
It speaks gentle words of the world
As I move it changes
Making all different
And all better
FallingTo the ground we all fall, upon this earth we lay our heads
Nothing to catch us but a gentle breeze
We drift about in this life like a leaf in the wind
No true direction, only guesses where we will lay
As we land we make no sound
The earth groans a silent sigh of relief knowing we lay safe upon it
It starts to rain
As we lie in waiting drops land upon us
They roll down our cheeks
Cold trails form on us while they roll over our warm faces
To the point tears and rain become one
Our true emotions show
Where love, hate, sadness, happiness,grief and jealousy combine into a bliss of emotion
We become weightless once again
As we continue to fall we think of our life
What we want in it
With such clarity that all is shown, the veil over our eyes is gone
Only the light shows through
As the earth grows greater in view we slow
With the wind
With the water
We become one
Reapers Of the Living One"Hey jack?" James says in a low tone.
"What James?" as jack replies with the tone of annoyance in his voice.
"Do you still remember you life before we got sent to hell and became reapers of the living?" asked James.
Jack utters to James "yea I remember, I miss it every day. Thanks to you though I got sent to that prison and killed in that explosion!".
Whoa, really? You are blaming that on me? It was you who wanted to make the self sacrifice to save that girl that you loved jack. I gave you a choice, I detonate the nuclear device and you live a life with the girl, or we both go up in the explosion and look like we are heroes. But no, you wanted to look like a hero, well we were never really heroes after we were on the run.
Yea James, I know, but still, it's your fault that we got sent to prison you fucking asshole!
Hey, hey knife slinger. I had to kill off my entire corporation, they were corrupt and having me kill the innocent. Heck we barely had any contact before I went ro
Reapers Of the Living :Benny:First Name: Benny
Last Name: Kalkins
Eye Color: Red
Hair Color: White
Cause of Death: Drug Over Dose
Demon Name: Benny
Occupation: Hells Gate Keeper and looks over the reaper program
Normal Attire: White suit from the 70's with a purple silk shirt, has black crow wings
Habits: Randomly showing up at the most inappropriate times for jack and James, Enjoys punishing the dammed as they enter hell, Enjoys dropping his annoying little stalker (Ashley) off with James and jack where she drives them absolutely nuts, always leaves one feather dropping slowly to the ground when he teleports from place to place, Enjoys appearing in front of James when he is getting ready to take his shot on a kill order
Favorite Drink: Dr. Pepper
History: Originally from the 70's he had died due to a drug over does in a club, he was sent to hell because it was categorized as a suicide, Lucifer for some reason greeted him with open arms and made him gate keeper of hell, h
Reapers Of the Living :Jack:First Name: Jack
Last Name: Winston
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Black
Skin Color: White
Original Occupation: Military analyst
Reason for Imprisonment: Framed by the government
Cause of death: Assisted suicide by James
Demon Name: Hasn't chosen yet
Powers: Can put extreme amounts of kinetic energy into anything he throws, heightened reflexes, super sensitivity, non human speed and agility, the ability to heal within seconds and have no scars, non human strength, teleportation, when he has his demonic powers he is invulnerable to every weapon known to man, can create a weapon from anything he finds
Job Skills: Top Ranked Marksman, Tracking, Explosives Technician, Manufacturing of Weapons, Survival expert, No Remorse, Insanity
Past Training: Ex Navy Seal, Navy Sniper, Navy Explosives Technician
Weakness: Women, caffeine
History: Lost all family at the age of 12, Lived by himself for years in the wilderness staying in the family cab
a small tidbit of a personal pieceprompt: talk about a place you love, conveying your peace with it without outright saying that you love it.
I have three lamps in my room, and two of them are hardly very bright. Both sort of cast everything (except for the cluttered corners) into a soft glow. The other only works when it's dark outside and the other lights are off. It throws everything into a blue-ish glow and somehow makes it feel like a place faeries would escape to.
The bookshelf is small, but it's enough to fit my favourite books and memories. The walls and ceiling are painted blue and green and are covered in posters and art and doodles so I can't see enough of the colours to regret the crappy decorating job I did as a kid. My blankets are soft enough for my cat to sit on and he smells like sugar cookies and looks like home so I'm happy if he is. The desk is covered in marker that bled through my paper and paint that I couldn't get to stay on the page.
Sometimes it's sil
The SunflowerMy grandpa had a garden
It was the most magical thing I had ever known
And is probably the reason I love nature so much now
When I was little, he would take me outside to his fields, where rows of beautiful flowers, plump tomatoes, and so much more were planted in straight rows. Behind that was a green patch where an Indian tribe had made their home for what seemed like a very, very long time. We found arrow heads scattered almost everywhere, and even the occasional bone or two. Nearly all of my childhood memories resided in his yard. Well, either there or his kitchen. But thats a different story
I remember going to the store with him, hand in hand. We picked out seeds for the years crops. He would get the seeds packs he needed, and I got the seeds packs that had pictures I didn't know, because "I wanted to see every plant that ever existed." My words exactly. My grandpa would laugh and tell me there was way to many plants for that kind of dream, but I still wanted to try. I had always
Love for ColdPlayWhen I first heard Coldplay, I was with my sister. She had been listening to her new favorite radio station for hours while she played with her dolls. We were both 11 at the time. Having different moms, our birthdays were in the same year, I didn't care. We were 100% related as far as anyone cared. The DJ at the time announced the song. Clocks, by Coldplay. The song started and I put down my notepad in interest. It was an amazing song, calming, gentle. After it ended, I got out of bed, where I had been writing. I went to moms room, asking to use the computer. After a few minutes I carried the laptop back to Me and my sister's room. I looked up the song, downloading it to the computer for future listening. Then, I proceeded to look at what kind of band Coldplay was, and what songs they made. Since that day, Coldplay has been one of my favorite bands. 'Clocks' continue to be one of my favorite songs by them. Although I do listen to other bands, Coldplay is the one I listen to the most. I
Bawling BrawlYou're a bully. A pathetic nuisance like any other.
From an early age, you slammed me down,
and I didn't even realize that it was you doing it.
You were subtle and I wasn't being strong because I didn't have a reason to be.
I got sick of you fast. I refused you.
You don't deserve to be a part of my life.
And you think I'll forgive you?
No matter how many times you ask,
plead, beg, cry, whine, scream, and yell,
you will never be a part of me because
I am stronger than you,
I am wiser than you, and
I can play your game.
You want to kill me.
You hate me. Now?
I hate you.
I want you dead.
I choose to live.
I choose to fight.
I want you dead.
I am meI am me. I am a girl with an adventurers heart, but I like being indoors. I am a girl that loves attention and always wants to be on stage. I am a strong person, but people beat me down. I am kind hearted, and always ready to help. I am a girl with pain, but I always smile. I am a girl that cries, and tries to be strong. I am a person who loves to listen to stories, but hates to read. I am random, but I make sense.
I am me for real. I may be random and weird but people love me for that. I may be weak, but my heart holds me as strong. I do feel pain but I get over it. I love adventure stories. I love helping people in need.
I am me and I am proud.
PancakesMy grandpa was a cook in the navy
Every morning when I was over, he would make me MnM pancakes from scratch. Yeah, they always got a little burnt, but that was fine. While he cooked, he told me stories of his days in the navy. I would sit on a little chair next to the griddle he used to make the pancakes, listening intently and eating the leftover MnMs. Every story made my laugh, and he would laugh with me. He could make every situation seem funny, and thats one thing I admired about him; he loved to make people laugh and did it easily. Then he would get the pancakes off the griddle and put them on my plate, pouring syrup on each one to look like a smiley face. He would watch me eat, asking how they tasted after each bite to make me giggle. After I was done, he lifted me up so I could reach the sink, washing the syrup off my face and off my plate. We then walked out to the garden, bringing the same little chair so I could watch him work. This went on for years.
But then my grandpa star
How did i get here? A Short Bio by MeHello, reader. So how was your search through DeviantART fueled by boredom and inspiration coming along. Well if you have a minute, i want to share something to you. If you don't have the time or just want to do something else, i understand completely. I’m always use to that for many years. So How Did I Get Here? Here’s part of my life story that i hope you might learn something from it.
So it all began with me as a baby knocking my head on a corner of table, leaving a strange mark on my head just like Harry Potter. It it was not magic like you read or seen on TV or in books. It’s like magic but it was Creativity that was sparked. Since then, i never stopped drawing or having fun with junk and clutter. From kindergarten to elementary school, i love drawing and creating things that came from my heart and soul. Some things that i encounter became so precious to me that i just kept it to me forever.
But there are some things in life that i’m not proud of. Creativit
Best before"...continuerai a farti scegliere
o finalmente sceglierai."
Si chiudono gli occhi. Il sonno li accompagna. Gli amanti vogliono esserlo in eterno. Sanno che del loro sesso, che di quel sudato piacere, di tutte le carezze, dei tanti baci che non si contano perché senz'abitudine, di ogni sguardo complice e perverso nell'odiarsi prima di ritornare a cavalcare abbracciati, sanno che tutto questo, che tutto il loro esserci stati sparirà. Non sarà storia che si insegna la loro; a nessuno servirà; se ne dimenticheranno anche coloro che invidiarono il loro riuscire a non separarsi nonostante tutta la vita degli altri li schiacciasse, e loro proprio per questo ancora più stretti l'uno all'altra. La vecchiaia, se non prima, pareva l'unica. Ma il pericolo del divenire anziani è tremendo: non riconoscersi, non riconoscersi più. Si è sempre in tempo; levarsi di mezzo, lasciare spazio ad altri affinché litighino senza passione e soprattutto s
FourI am four hours old.
"Ma´am, there´s a shadow over your child´s crib, closer than usual. We told him to leave, but he didn´t."
I am four days old.
"Ma´am, the shadow did something. We don´t know what it was, but you´d better leave. It´s not a pretty sight."
I am four weeks old.
The shadow backed off. But I always know that he is still - somewhere. I even like him, in a way. He is special.
I am four years old.
The shadow came to the house when I wasn´t there. And now everyone is crying. He took my Papa. That´s not fair. Why him? Wasn´t it me he was waiting for?
I am fourteen years old.
I had forgotten about the shadow, but suddenly I remember him. I call for him. We need to talk. I wish I had something sensible to say.
I am twenty-four years old.
The shadow came to me to talk; he even brought his friend. Or mine, I don´t know. But talking to the shadow knocks me out regardless.
Now I´m about to leave behind thirty-f
My demonLaying there, quietly, alone
The feeling of something is there, unseen, but there
I sit up, but my body remains laying down
As I shout "show yourself" the figure becomes more visible
I lay back down and see the creature standing there
Glowing eyes piercing through me, Head of a wolf, tall, very tall
Draped in a long black hooded cloak or robe
Its hands, I can never get those things out of my head as it reached for me
Long fingers, almost like claws that are twice as long as the finger as a man
This is what haunts me, this is what hunts me
It grows closer
Help me before it hurts me more
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