Stop The Lies

Do you like poems?

yes! my favorites are The Tiger and the unnamed werewolf fridge poem

White Rabbit

When smothered in smoke,

We whisper white rabbit.

To settle our panic.

White rabbit, white rabbit.

Will you be afraid?

When nightmares inhabit? 

When you recall joy,

But can't reach and grab it?

And everyone has it.

You can't understand it.

White rabbit, white rabbit.

Patience burns too,

It wears out like fabric. 

Your senses subside,

they make way for static.

The flames will wreak havoc.

White rabbit, white rabbit.

And those you love most,

Will say you'll withstand it.

What good are their words?

When breathing grows rapid.

You’re lost and alone.

Ignored by the planet.

White rabbit, white rabbit.

It's bite might be rabid.

- Hayley Siemens

…… was his first and original sword, after Arthur broke Caliburn, he then gave it to Merlín who brought it to the lady of the lake. She then gave Excalibur to Arthur, who went on to many adventures and quests to be a good king of Camelot.

The stars can’t reach us

The stars can’t reach us

Yet we try in vain

Our hearts full of greed and lust

Wishing only for gain

Hopes and dreams wishing on a star

Corrupt, darkness, despair, stick like tar

Stop soul searching

Please refrain

Nothing will stop the the destruction lurking.

For the stars lie in pain

Overtaxed with ambition

Dying to give you the darkness you’ve been wishin’

The stars are lying

There was no magic here

Lured us like sirens

Hell is crying

Awash with flaming tears

Burning the Horizons

Past Midnight poetry- Just a bit

Sometimes I feel a bit crazy

And a bit hazy

Like I know what’s happening only a bit after it happens

My words aren’t really my own

My brain doesn’t feel like me

And maybe it’s a bit scary

A bit sickening

That I am not living

What I want is peace and I can’t have it yet

I wander a bit here

Ponder a bit about something that maybe doesn’t matter

It’s a bit out of context but maybe I’m not real

My words might be

But I am never really me

I read. Obsessively. Because, when I read, there is purpose to my loneliness.

“Do you think it’s possible that some people are born to give more love than they will ever get back in return?”

— Tyler Knott Gregson

*sits forward in my wizard chair* Ah yes...i have just the remedy for such an ailment. *hands you a strawberry* *hands you a strawberry* *hands you a str