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Literature Text
What is this feeling...
that slowly kills you without a sound.
that leaves you breathless.
that makes your heart pound.
that brings new life into your eyes.
that has you waiting for the next surprise.
that places you up on a cloud so high.
then tricks you into thinking that you want to die...
that makes you believe that it is truly the end.
that lies and tells you that everything around you is just pretend.
that haunts you when your awake and even in your sleep.
that makes you think that nothing is worth it.. until you cut yourself too deep.
if two hearts race but then one gives in, what good is love when it won't let you win?
that slowly kills you without a sound.
that leaves you breathless.
that makes your heart pound.
that brings new life into your eyes.
that has you waiting for the next surprise.
that places you up on a cloud so high.
then tricks you into thinking that you want to die...
that makes you believe that it is truly the end.
that lies and tells you that everything around you is just pretend.
that haunts you when your awake and even in your sleep.
that makes you think that nothing is worth it.. until you cut yourself too deep.
if two hearts race but then one gives in, what good is love when it won't let you win?
Literature
Farewell
Dear, Jessica.
Today Ronnie Childs died. Lucky me. The boys don’t want me to walk out and walk freee.
I can’t blame you for finally leaving me those months ago, but I know you too well.
You wouldn’t have ripped me from your heart, even though you should have. I don’t regret loving you, but letting you love me is the greatest sin.
Or second worst. The first was joining a gang.
I went numb as I ran out of things to care about.
Stopped caring about the taste of blood drawn in a fight, the bruises and cracked bones of my boys and myself, or what the other guys looked like.
Stopped caring about breaking into stores, robb
Literature
Tree Leaves
Tree Leaves
I hope that you’re happy,
I hope I am too.
See, we were under a shadow.
It was lovely, true,
But when one day I looked up,
It was then that I knew
I couldn’t stay under tree leaves,
I had to see the sky so blue.
See, under that calm tree,
I couldn’t laugh like I used to.
I forgot how to be me,
And that’s something I couldn’t do.
I couldn’t look at you, closed my eyes
When I said adieu.
But I hope that you’ll smile
And under the sky that I will too.
And for all of our tree leaves,
I’ll hold those mem’ries, and thank you.
Literature
The Author of my Own Freedom
"It's Not What You're Going Through, But How You're Viewing It!"
Author (Toni Hatton)
Life gives us a diverse field of answers to our questions and when asked about if I am free or not, I doubt that I will give a universally accepted answer. I do believe that our answers will be based not on our personal experiences, also not with the experiences and teachings of others but on how we view it in real life.
Things change. It's a constant ideology that comes into my mind whenever I think about this thing. I sometimes try to see the neutral side of life, on how am I supposed to act and think accordingly to what people wants me to do. But if
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I wrote this for 
She wanted me to write a poem and i told her i couldnt..
but if you really want to know how i felt the past month,
HERE IT IS.
I almost did something i would have regretted because of this shit..
thats why i told you to help me.
The pain i feel is just too REAL. and im afraid words can never describe it.
She wanted me to write a poem and i told her i couldnt..
but if you really want to know how i felt the past month,
HERE IT IS.
I almost did something i would have regretted because of this shit..
thats why i told you to help me.
The pain i feel is just too REAL. and im afraid words can never describe it.
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