[x]

Mute TranslucenceShe is trapped in a glass box
One which follows her every move
It is always caging her in
With invisible walls so everyone can see her inside
Yet barriers so thick no one can hear her pleas

A cry of desperation rises up from her crystalline prison
A lamenting wail so loud it threatens to shatter the mirrored bulwark

"Why won't anyone listen to me?

She listens for a response
As the crowds continue to rush past her enclosure
All brushing against the invisible walls
All seeming to forget she's there

There is no acknowledgement to her despondent appeal

but s i l e n c e

S E C R E T Ss omething
e veryone
c onceals
r eadily
e ven
t hough
s ecrets

c
a
n

k
i
l
l

Diamonds And GlassA human soul is like a glass vase. So fragile, so easy to break. Just one touch, and it can shatter into a thousand shards. So many pieces that not even a lifetime would be enough turns of the clock to meld it all back together.

So instead of being glass...

Why don't we turn our souls into diamonds instead?

After all, diamonds are one of the strongest materials to be found in nature that can be shaped into something beautiful.

Who wants to be seen as glass that can be pulverized with the slightest of pressure, when instead you can be viewed as one of the most durable and gorgeous souls in the world?

It's an unrequited love, isn't it?I know you will never read this.

I know you will never get the chance to even catch a glimpse of this.

But I just want you to know that I love you.

You're perfect to me. I don't care about your flaws. I don't care about the faults that everyone else always seem to point out.

I really don't care.

What matters to me is that you are you. And because you are you, I love you.

I just wish you could love me back.

I just wish you could say the same words to me--to make me believe that I'm not the worthless thing I see in the mirror every day.

I just wish you could be here, comforting me when I need it, and telling me you love me over and over

DreamDon't ever stop feeling what you want to feel. Reel in all the emotions you care to hold deep inside you, and nurture them within your heart. Embrace the sensation of being the only one to truly change your future, as long as you shove past all your doubts and reach the highest capacity your fingers can brush against. Advance towards your goal with your courage for a sword, justice for a shield, and all your hope forging the rest of your armor to brave every adversity you face. Make your passions you have in life happen, as long as you remember to accomplish one simple act.

never
ever
ever
stop

Dreaming.

GlacialJanuary wolves stalk her shivering heart;
bitter ice-fangs sink into feverish skin.
Frost devours slowly, succinctly, shamelessly;
yet the howling tossed chains around her
paper-thin limbs and dragged her down.

Arctic icebound lips quivering,
silver eyelashes fluttering emptily,
alabaster fingertips reaching out;
frenzied yet frozen and fractured.

"Drowning," she whispers in a winter song,
and places her mouth upon snow-dusted fur.
"Blood freezing in these frostbitten veins."

And then the pack of aurorean wolves bolt away,
leaving her smiling in the blizzard of humanity.

Freedom.

.I stare at the screen, waiting for some burst of inspiration to rain upon me like a meteor shower sent straight from the gods of literature heaven.

Nothing.

A sigh escapes my lips, and I haphazardly bash random buttons of the keyboard, watching as the blank document before me is littered with an incoherent placement of characters. The monotone click-clack seems to just resonate with the narcoleptic beating of my heart, further fueling my senseless crusade.

Where has all my writing gone?

It feels like it was just sucked right out of my soul. Ideas constantly plague my mind, yet all I can do is write them down. When I go to type them out, n

An Obituary To My ChildhoodDearly beloved; we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a very special and dear friend to all of us...our Childhood.

Childhood. Ah, I remember you as clear as yesterday. You were certainly my truest friend throughout the years--with you, I could do anything. I could be anything.
Do you remember that for every white rabbit you saw, there was a hole with Wonderland awaiting you close by?
Do you remember when those shimmers in the air on a really hot day was actually Tinkerbell, trying to give you some pixie dust?
Do you remember seeing something out of the corner of your eye, and automatically you knew it was something from an enchanted forest just waiting for you to follow?
I do. I remember it all. Back then, imagination was the true form of currency. What are these "checks" and "credit cards" you speak of? All I need to do is think really hard, and I'll have some gold to give you!
But those days are over. We are not allow

HellfireYou see her nonsensical whims and think to yourself,
"nothing but a simpler state of mind."

Yet —

She hides behind an ivory mask,
skeleton smiles
and torpid mirth;
Radioactive sulfuric masses of artificial
crystalline lips upturned in an adamant curve.

Laughter echoing throughout hollow bones, concave and
just as empty as the cartilage ensnaring the vacant
smirk.

You can't fathom the netherworld tucked deep in her translucent limbs;
nor comprehend the frenzied howls from the fangs of a decaying Cerberus.

For when you will at last board Charon's ferry and float down the conflagrant waters of
Styx, regarding her perched upon a thro

I wishI wish I was the type of person who could create a masterpiece in a matter of moments; rather than slave over something for hours and still not have it quite right.

I wish I had the ability to make words my soldiers; have them form whatever battalion I commanded them to, and call me "Lieutenant."

I wish I could be proud of the armies I train; instead of continuously hating the strategies they impose with which words and phrases they struggle so hard to be.

I wish I could feel the thrill of having twenty-four hours of fame; and actually deserving such an honor.

But most of all?

I wish I didn't have all these ambitions and longings; becaus

Flights of FancyI believe in
the impossible
the childish
the unseen
the absurd
the silly

I believe in lands somewhere over the rainbow
I believe in worlds hidden under the rabbit hole
I believe in kingdoms on the other side of the wardrobe
I believe in enchanted forests where animals talk in riddles
I believe in palaces where wizards entertain immortal kings

I believe in
fairies
dragons
unicorns
spirits
elves

in the magic and wonder that only a child's eyes can see
in the universes hopes and dreams can create with a single thought

I believe in everything that so many say are imaginary; in everything that so many people scoff at and call me fanciful and

For YouYour heart may bleed diamonds,
but they all they see is dust.
Your soul may run black with ink,
yet they see it as pandemonium.
The miasmas you feel in your mind are not discord,
but a precious, beautiful gift meant solely for you.

The letters care not
however you arrange them;
perfection is perfection
when it comes from your veins.

These worlds exist for you created them—
there is no such thing as
“imaginary”
as long as you know their universes.

Cry and laugh and weep and smile,
for the blossoms you water shall grow
into a microcosm of your own design.

You are a god and a king,
a queen and a demon,
whose words

They say beauty is only skin deep,so hand over that defected scalpel in your bloodless hands
and watch carefully as I peel away this tainted skin
to make way for my blackened and corrupted
insides.
And everyone can finally see
the grotesque monster that lies deep within
this soiled excuse they seem to enjoy calling
a heart.

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
then why is it that I can't stand
gazing upon my reflection
every time I pass by a mirror?

PulsateWhat is a heartbeat,
without the heart?
What is a dream,
without the conscience?
What is a word,
without the letters?
What is a hope,
without the faith?
What is a soul,
without the self?
What is a kiss,
without the love?

What am I,
without you?

She Can't Help But Feel Itshe can't help but feel it, that sensation of despair

always creeping beneath the barriers of false cheer

she can't help but feel it, that loathing all for herself

always concealed behind a smile which she's painted on with stealth

she can't help but feel it, that yearning to hate the sound of laughter

always threatening her carefully-crafted walls to completely and utterly shatter

she can't help but feel it, that terror as she gazes upon her reflecton; which is usually the key

always making her say the words over and over again in her mind

"that isn't me"

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A Scholarly Masquerade

by *PrussianPersephone, Dec 16, 2012, 2:30:18 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Sometimes I like to pretend,
I'm like the Mariana Trench with my words.

That my fingers construct such eloquence,
as abyssal and profound as the Grand Canyon.

Yet the truth of the matter is that,
my heart has not been pulverized into dust.

I am about as succint and poignant,
as a rusted bucket.

A Scholarly Masqueradeby *PrussianPersephone

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

I don't think people read my works and have to catch their breath after they're finished like I do with certain people's writings on here. I don't have the depth and sentiment I try to pretend I do. I've not been through a life of heartbreaks, really. Of course I've had my ups and downs (especially currently), but...

I'm just pretending I know what human emotions truly are, and I'm desperate to fully understand them at last and stop the masquerade I create with my words.

This is mostly just my musings. I have writer's block right now, so I tried getting something down to help it along. It didn't exactly work as I had planned, but what can you do?

~yellowfire7 Dec 29, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

"I am about as succinct and poignant,
as a rusted bucket."

I liked how you put that succinctly and poignantly.

Human emotions are those which people experience every day. The emotions people feel after a tragic event, a heartbreak, or something similar are certainly just as human and very powerful, but they are not representative. That you have not experienced certain situations does not make you any less capable of expressing profound thought and powerful emotion. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, and the proof of your words is in the reading. You did not happen on these words by accident.

~CardinalDesertFox Dec 16, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Oh writer's block, how we abhor thee. Still, I love what you're saying here, because I feel that a lot of writers struggle with this. We want to touch something deeper in our readers, we want to move them, but sometimes we haven't experienced what it is we're writing. Though I do think you do far better than any rusted bucked I've ever seen!

*PrussianPersephone Dec 17, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you. But...I just want to be deeper. I dunno. Like, works by *DearPoetry? I wish I had some semblance of her talent.

~CardinalDesertFox Dec 17, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

She is very, very talented. But I'm sure when she first started writing poetry it wasn't quite so deep. You'll get there, Bridget, just keep writing.

~imagination-junkie Dec 16, 2012

Awesome as always. But I disagree. You don't have to suffer horribly to produce beautiful art. And you definitely don't have to suffer to feel real human emotion.

*PrussianPersephone Dec 17, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I guess I've been in the depressing part of the literature section too much, then.

=autumn--thunder Dec 16, 2012 Student General Artist

_{I always love reading your poems. I really, really do. In all honesty, I kinda get hyped when I see one in my inbox. xD
We can't all expect to be those sort of people where they just have that gift to keep you on the edge of your seat. Because heck, I'm not. But you... you do have depth in your writing and that way of making people want to read more and more. I'm actually reading World is Ours at the moment. It's freaking addictive.

Good luck with your writer's block. It's a nasty thing.}

*PrussianPersephone Dec 16, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Really? Wow. Well. Thank you. Thank you so much.

I miss WIO...I need to go back and edit it...

=autumn--thunder Dec 16, 2012 Student General Artist

_{Yep, really. ^^ You're very welcome, really. It's the truth.

I love the story. It's so original, and America is hilarious. XD}

*PrussianPersephone Dec 16, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

_{IT GETS ANGSTY JUST AN FYI}

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