[x]

Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?
I cry. Does that make me emo?
I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?
I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?
I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?
I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?
I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?
I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.
Does that make me different?
Maybe.
But at least it makes me
Me.

FrostbiteNumbness
I can’t feel my toes and at first I think
It’s just my toes.
I can cover them up.
I can warm them.

It spreads, like fire,
Like ice.
I glance away for a second, it seems, and my feet are cold
Pat –pat
That’s funny, I didn’t feel that
Maybe I’ll cover them up too
I’ll warm them up.

I’ll take a nap
Maybe a short rest will make it all better, warm them
Up…
What’s that? How long has it been?
My legs… are you still mine..
Why has my breath left me, short?
Has everything but deserted me?

What about you, are you still here?
Are you still with me?
Hello?
And before I can say goodbye, I think my thoughts are leaving me too –

Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character who
never existed but in the labyrinth of her head:
a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy words
she’d heard in her catatonic state; coma living
day in and day out, reliant on the salvation
of a man made of foreign wishing
and imperfection and necessity – an ignorance
of the less than ideal perception of self she’d
come to fear, absention stained romantic to the point
where daydreams were a standard for survival

(real living is for the purposeful of heart,
he loves her in her sleep)

UneditedWe cry.
We scream.
We fight for our dream.

We scream.
We cry.
We're just waiting to die.

The same emotions
with a different drive.
Sometimes dead, sometimes alive.

The same in one way,
different in another
brother and sister, sister and brother.

So close in feeling,
so different in the end.
Falling apart, or finally on the mend?

Which am I?
Will I ever know?
Fighting to stay or ready to go?

Maybe I'm both,
in some impossible way.
Emotions oddly mixed everyday.

Wouldn't surprise.
I'm such a freak.
Excuse me, I laugh, I should call it "unique"

Happily AloneHonesty,
She does not have,
Personalities,
She has many of them.

A million shields,
a million personalities,
She's always changing,
to fit every person around her.

If one were to ask why,
she would answer with,
I will never reveal my weaknesses,
because she's evil.

She hates everyone,
stupider than her is barely tolerable,
smarter than her is too scary,
She hates it all.

She leaves the world behind,
To one she has dreamt of,
No color,
nobody else.

Then,
she will smile,
why,
because she is truly happy alone.

She is not evil,
She does not hate you,
She is not dishonest,
She simply wants to be alone.

We are the King and Queen of Broken DreamsStanding still in a mine field, staring at all we have left.
We were so young, we didn’t stop to think.
Now we’re in a car crash, teetering on the brink.
If you were to leave me now, I don’t know what I’d do.

It was a whirl wind romance,
A light when all was black, a spark of something when all was bleak.
You swept me off my feet and made me feel brand new.
I thought we could live forever and I’m certain you did to.

We built a house without foundations
And now we’re falling down,
Everything’s crumbling around us, time slipping through out fingertips.
People used to walk past us but they were to drunk to see,
That our lives are coming apart around us, there is no light as far as we can see.

There was no fire to start with,
Just two broken things, the world had left behind.
The casualties of other people’s dreams of power, money and control,
Spat out onto the curb to rot away and die.
We never stood a chance or so

lifelinesI fear the sound of sparrows
and the density of leaves
against dew-muffled blades
of grass,

and I'm drowning
in the sky.

My skin has learned how
to peel itself off
without causing a commotion
in my marrows or
even show the slightest hint
of pain,
and my heart has learned how
to hush the stars in their wake
and keep it all a secret.

There's a sea in my mouth
and I can't swim.

There are lifelines
cast like these and it will
all end with the same tragedy.

of seafoam thronesFrom Atlas’ hands she wept to me,
atop Africas and South Atlantics;

this is one situation unaffected by
ember eyes and windy lashes
(it has no anatomy).

You are sparrows stranded
in tiny crevices and cliffside love,
though you rebuke flight
in the fear of chipping feathers.

So what do you do?

You reach for my soul,
coveting flight with shaking
dainty arms…

and perhaps I’ll let you:
With flytrap lips and
glass shaped hips…
you are unfit for anything but
sight.

(But beauty isn’t everything)

Falling off the EdgeDo you know what it feels like?
To nearly fall off the edge,
but not quite...
just so that you're dangling;
clinging for your worthless life
lest it fall into the sea of loneliness.
Your callused, pink fingers turning
to a shade of purplish-red of pain
as it does it best to hold on.

Splash.

In the sea of loneliness,
everything is crisp, translucent.
There is nothing around you,
you are alone...
unlike other people,
you have no one
clamouring to save you;
you have no one
diving in to get you out.

There is no point
screaming for help,
you will only waste
the little time and air you have left.
You only have the darkness
of the sea envelop

Ashes on the SandWe put you in
a crystal box
small enough for me
to hold in my
hands
(and that thought gives me
chill bumps)
The tide was high
where we took you
and I remember thinking
how pointless it was
(you were just going to wash
up on the shore)
Everyone was quiet
and some people cried
and as you were tossed
out to sea like so
many grains of sand
I thought how much
I missed you
(Now I think how much
I hate you
for leaving)

PerfectEver had the feeling where you can't stop looking at a picture?
Your gorgeous face makes me smile
Go weak at the knees
Makes me giggle like a little girl

Those morning texts
All day conversations
Random silly things like that
Make me smile

I see the led light flash the colours I've set for when I get a message from you
My heart flutters
My cheeks flush
I go deaf to the world when I'm reading a message from you

If your down
I'm always there for you
I know you don't want to worry me
I know you want me to smile
But I'm always here for you
No matter how you feel
I'd prefer to help
Than for you to be down

Your gorgeous eyes
Are mesmerising
You

A Charmed LifeDoll-faced men and sinkholes, ancient tombstones
Leaves piled ankle-deep, falling down
Old wells, old graves, old friends lost
Pirate adventures in Neverland
Don't go into that barn

Ponchoboy and Rangergirl rise from the ashes
From the cold river, from afar
Remember before they were born, how they
Held hands and jumped into the world
Don't go into that school

Ladybugs, pennies, notes from the dead sun eclipse
Scrape the inside of your skull for clues
All the old dreams are still there, petrified
You are a rock of ages gibbering
Don't go into that factory

weight of the worldand suddenly--
it was like the world decided that
it didn't want to carry its burden any longer,
so it shifted the weight
into the hollows of my bones
and told me that
it was my problem now.

UntitledThere is a loneliness that can
come to subsistence in man
deeper than the great
submarine sinkhole of Belize;

a crawling phthalo blue sadness
stolen off of a Picasso palette
of familiar numbing pains.

I recall having heard them
as they bid adieu- to me,
another newly extinct species;

some of us are meant for doom
like stellar sea cows, with only
our skeletal frames remaining.

Our squeaks muted all too soon
in the darkness of the shade.

So it goes: life can drag
a few of us blow by blow,
skewing our limbs and broiling
our skins by very heavy venom.

You Are BlindYou see a picture.
A girl with a smile on her face.

She looks beautiful.
She wasn't going anyway fancy.
But she wore her black make up.
And her brand new top.

But that isn't what I see...

Look a little closer...
Can't you see the tears that have just been wiped away?

Look a little closer...
Can't you see her right fist clenched,
Fumbling for her over strap bag?

Look a little closer...
Can't you see the left hand grip her long sleeve for dear life?

Look a little closer...
Can't you see her mind is running with thoughts tonight?

Look a little closer...
And maybe you'd have seen the warning signs....

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Marco Simoncelli

by ~Stroudacus, Oct 23, 2011, 3:08:19 AM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Simoncelli, never backed down,
Simoncelli, never wore a frown,
Simoncelli, surpassed the best,
Simoncelli, better than the rest.

He was the man from Catollica in fair old Italy,
For his passing, out of respect I composed this symphony,
Running the curbs with a knee he passed the competition,
Only when the fireworks did fly, did the dreams come to fruition.

Conquered 125 and 250 as though they were Nursery,
Taking lessons from Valentino, from his vast bursary,
He never gave up, even when a podium was on the table,
Now his tales are confined to the great old Fable.

Moto GP just isn't the same without his crazy antics,
No matter who you are, he's coming through - his riding was charismatic,
Outside, inside it doesn't matter,
Simoncelli won't stick around to natter.

So rather than mourning his loss, let's all remember him for what he did,
Taking positions from the greats as though they were kids,
For we may have lost a true character,
Simoncelli can now ride on forever.

RIP Simo - you shall never be forgotten.

Marco Simoncelliby ~Stroudacus

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Lost a true great.

Just thought writing my feelings down would help ease the transition slightly, guess a fan shouldn't take it this hard; but I invest my life into motor sports.

Hope for those who see it, that it's a dignified tribute.

RIP Marco, ciao. :c

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

sad 3 3

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

*xxxBrokenSoulxxx Dec 3, 2011 Hobbyist General Artist

*salutes*

R.I.P Sic you will be truely missed

~chi-chi-chanxoxo Oct 23, 2011 Hobbyist General Artist

This is beautiful, R.I.P Marco, il MotoGP non sara piu` uguale senza di te`

~Stroudacus Oct 23, 2011 Student Writer

I'm glad you think so. <3

Could I get a translation?

~chi-chi-chanxoxo Oct 23, 2011 Hobbyist General Artist

ahah of course

sorry i thoguth i put it in brackets, i said R.I.P Marco, Moto GP wont be the same without you

~Stroudacus Oct 23, 2011 Student Writer

Aha

I agree.. It really won't be :/ I just can't believe it. :c

~chi-chi-chanxoxo Oct 23, 2011 Hobbyist General Artist

and yeah, at least even if it was such a sad day, i bet that if he HAD to die, he wished it would have been while racing. :')gotta love him :heart"

~Stroudacus Oct 23, 2011 Student Writer

Yeah, exactly I'd accept the risks if I ever got to ride/drive at that level.. Let's focus on how pro he was and remember him for the push on Pedrosa!

~chi-chi-chanxoxo Oct 23, 2011 Hobbyist General Artist

ahah yeah

we shall always remember him! I am a very young half italian girl and every Italian takes pride in athletes like Simoncelli, and i am one of them

~Stroudacus Oct 23, 2011 Student Writer

I feel like an adopted Italian, as I am a TIFOSI! of Scuderia Ferrari; I always look out for the Italians in whatever I watch as they just show passion where other nationalities do not! Plus they usually do hand gestures which are just awesome.

I felt deeply saddened when Weldon died last week, every Englishman is a member of the family. :/

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