Thanks. I think it's mine too. It's a little hard, but it's true. I think that's the best thing. You can blame me if it helps.
one more and I am gonna be quiet lol I like it that your love is not for me. I like it that I care for another, That when by accident I touch your knee I don't blush and you don't bother.. I like that I can be myself... eat chips.. Without stress, without complications... That when I kiss another on his lips I don't fail your love or expectations... I'm grateful for not ever dating you, For talks without heat of lovers' rush... Oh no, I am not in love with you. But I might have a silly little crush...
I love you just the way you are, But you don't see you like I do. You shouldn't try so hard to be perfect, Trust me, perfect should try to be you.
Narwhal, oh narwhal Where art thou? Do you swim Amongst the slum? Do you paddle With the turtle? Are you there? Oh narwhal, Narwhal, swimming About, not a care and Not a doubt Narwhal, oh narwhal Where art thou?
There was once a Nick in a hat Who always knew all about that. One casual night, he crawled into a clan, But to his surprise, was welcomed by a Noodly man. But to his dismay, One fateful early day He took it too far, and such, He was kicked out of this clan, and he hated this very much. And so he set out on his journey. His facial hair grew furry. He made it into an HTE clan, without a single worry. But he was very lonely. He didn't have many friends. He tried to hit the epic battles, But they would always quickly end. The event started, and he was sad, as Noodehl would say. He blindly hit the epic battles, and that's where he remains to this day. Seriously, I'm sorry. Let me back in
Sitting there In my chair Thinking of the things We share There was you and me Down by the sea Counting our kids One, two, three We'd two wee girls And one wee boy Oh how our life's Were full of joy By: me
A few grammar errors, and the rhyming feels a bit forced. I like the "wee" before girls and boy. It's cute :3
Just discovered this thread; first of its kind in any game in my experience. I'm unprepared, so here's the name of a good TS Elliot poem, if I remember it correctly: Do not go gently into that good night. Or something like that. It's pensive yet rousing; ideal for the savage poets on here perhaps. His poem The Hollow Men was memorably read during a rather underrated performance by Marlon Brando in Apocalypse Now. He played asSergeant that had gone AWOL and created his own Dark Kingdom. Oh yes.
Yes, I know, I am a stranger. And I come from a different land. And I love the howls of danger, Not the sounds of marching band. I was born into gypsy wagons And my songs are of smoke and thorns. I am singing them to the dragons, To the demons and unicorns. And I love like a thirsty vagrant Drinking in to the very dregs.. Not damsel, fragile and fragrant, Who just quietly waits or begs. When I die, do u think I'd bother That I missed the eternal bliss? Thief and killer will be my brothers And a tramp will give me a kiss.
Striped and spotted sparrow-birds stutter and agitate along the ground A few leaves crunch damply underfoot most remain verdant above They sway easily in the chill; the cold becomes thrilling my body hums with warmth and life as the sunlight caresses me gently, my eyes close naturally The dawn of isolation comes with the ease and grace my body cannot achieve But my feet do not trouble me yet My own poem.
Lili Pain's lines So vivid and so fine Conjured a world to escape to To fight then peel a grape to I scour the wishing wells To transport me from my hell But now I'm reading and Im learning How to cope with inner yearning.
The streetlight glints on the icy snow. The snowstorm was fierce, as predicted stomping through it now hurts my feet booted as they are. My arms sting in the cold, blood still thickening on my skin... my breath billows before me as a dragon's breath would my hair tickles my neck as the wind brushes slowly across my cheek. The trees are large and imposing dark and beautiful and solitary in their community though they cast no shadow-- they care not for the sanctity of the silence or the purity of the icy snow. They cast down clinking pieces, parts of their flesh scattered on the ground dead leaves and branches that no animal dare lay footprint upon. Loneliness befits the barren landscape. Another of my own poems.