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Literature Text
Pages blank as an open canvas,
Pen as dead as a doornail.
What was once so easy
Is now agonizingly difficult.
Words used to flow like a river
With sonnets of passion and love;
Stories of sorrow and loss;
And many an enticing tale.
Now, like his old fountain pen,
His mind is bone dry. His Imagination,
Once wild and free as a mustang,
Now no more than a plow horse
Every writer has their time to shine,
His may just be ending.
Though no more words will pour from his pen,
At least he left plenty for others to see.
Pen as dead as a doornail.
What was once so easy
Is now agonizingly difficult.
Words used to flow like a river
With sonnets of passion and love;
Stories of sorrow and loss;
And many an enticing tale.
Now, like his old fountain pen,
His mind is bone dry. His Imagination,
Once wild and free as a mustang,
Now no more than a plow horse
Every writer has their time to shine,
His may just be ending.
Though no more words will pour from his pen,
At least he left plenty for others to see.
Literature
Love it
I feel your hands in my hair.
I feel your breath on my neck.
I feel your body pressed so close to mine.
I feel your lips on my throat.
I feel your hands move to my back and your lips work their way up to mine.
I feel you and I love it.
I hear you say you love me.
I hear you whisper my name.
I hear you tell me I'm the only one for you.
I hear your breath in my ear.
I hear your soft snores as I fall asleep.
I hear you and I love it.
I see you as I run into your arms.
I see your face break through my world of darkness.
I see you fight away my fears.
I see you wipe away my tears.
I see you're in love with me.
I see you and I love
Literature
Depression
I've heard so many people tell those who suffer depression to just 'cheer up.' I wonder if they can really believe that it's that simple.
Depression isn't just sadness. It is emptiness, it is misery. It is pain and nothingness at once. When you are truly depressed you lack the ability or will to cheer yourself up. No one just 'has depression.' You suffer from it. This is depression:
You will wake at 5, 6, maybe 7am, feeling as though you had only just fallen asleep. It's likely you did. If you don't have to be somewhere, you could lie in bed for another 3 hours...too tired, too miserable and pathetic to crawl out of you bed. Or maybe you wi
Literature
Friends
Friends are the only angels
We'll ever get to see
While still on earth
While we still can breath
They're there for us
Through thick and thin
They light our way
When our path is dim
To hold your hand
To counsel you through
To help you out
To hold to you true
They're God's little gift
To show you He's there
They're his angel's to you
To show you that he does care
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An over-exaggerated expression of how I felt my writing was going.
Whatever, at least I posted something new after all this time!
Whatever, at least I posted something new after all this time!
© 2009 - 2024 musiclover07
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