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Literature Text
Dearest one,
You are overwhelming, like speakers on high in a small space, and the only thing you can think about is the song surrounding you.
You are radiant and iridescent, like a far away universe filled with exotic and new experiences.
You are a Rose, proud and noble, among a garden of weeds, they rot and whither away, but you are infinite.
You are the sun, you bless everyone with your golden rays of light, and even the burned admit they love you evermore.
And that, is all I have to say on the matter.
Yours Truly,
Secret Admirer
You are overwhelming, like speakers on high in a small space, and the only thing you can think about is the song surrounding you.
You are radiant and iridescent, like a far away universe filled with exotic and new experiences.
You are a Rose, proud and noble, among a garden of weeds, they rot and whither away, but you are infinite.
You are the sun, you bless everyone with your golden rays of light, and even the burned admit they love you evermore.
And that, is all I have to say on the matter.
Yours Truly,
Secret Admirer
Literature
A Story About Heroes
“What does it mean to be a hero?” The old man asked, staring up from his deathbed. “What makes a hero? What drives a man to stand apart from his peers in the way necessary to be proclaimed a hero? I've seen heroes rise and fall, age and die. Nothing separates them from the mere mortal man, the one who stayed at home, raising a family, keeping society running.”
“A hero sets himself apart from the rest, by performing heroic deeds.” His son replied, standing at his father's bedside, his usual life put on hold for the suffering of this one man, his father.
“Heroic deeds? Ha!” The old man coughed,
Literature
Morose
I wish I could take this pain
and gently weave it into
a fractured, floating melody
a delicate, haunting lullabye...
Maybe it would make you sigh
to hear me singing a shaking harmony
But after all the times I stood by you,
and after all you put me through-
You left me
on a sunny day
sobbing like the pouring rain.
Literature
Far far away away
The sky is a puzzle I have yet to find the time to finish
(it would take forever anyway, so there's no rush)
left out on the table, pieces scattered, for another day
and I swear I'll come back and finish it, I'm just a little tired now
(I try and sleep, but my dreams keep me awake)
and every time I look at it it's as if someone has rearranged the pieces
(if only they would rearrange my life)
and now the clouds don't spell out my emotions anymore
(everchanging clouds, what does that say about me?)
and the painted glory of a gold and ruby sunset has somehow become the more dubious portent of a red and purple sunr
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