I am the yesterday waiting for my tomorrow,
and you are the future waiting for your past.
Let us correspond our oscillating hearts,
hidden behind adamantine bastions,
and together we shall fabricate a new
Her Aesthetic CrusadeShe paints a world of crimson midnight,
and you watch the sanguine colors drip down her skin.
Wilted rose petals stain her wrist scarlet,
and canyons are carved deep in porcelain flesh.
"Battle scars," she tells you simply with a flick of the paintbrush,
meticulous as she resumes her sanguine masterpiece.
"Have you won?" you ask,
though you already know the answer.
She smiles fondly and holds up the tormented easel,
for all to see the newly wrought crevice of flaming burgundy.
"How can one win this war against the burning red, my friend,
when you can barely win the battle against yourself?"
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
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 shall turn
heartstrings to gold.
Freedom is the only chain you must break in half,
life is the only prison you must escape from,
and the truth is the only lie you must forget.
Vengeful phantoms in a corporeal form walk the earth;
humanity will spite you for you let
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.
Welcome to WonderlandFalling down, down, down
Spinning 'round and 'round
All around, the ticking of clocks
Such a discordant sound
Right is left and left is right
Night is day and day is night
Up is down and down is up
Life is death and death is life
Voices whisper from every niche
Screams echo and cause a twitch
Claws and teeth threaten to kill
Eyes wild with bliss of such a thrill
Run, hide, fight, or plead
Nothing shall work, nothing you need
The sun and moon will laugh as you cry
As the Queen shrieks her commands to the sky
Blood forms penumbras as heads roll
A cry of defiance with each bell toll
The jury turns in accord, madness shining bright
Their question full of words to make your skin crawl with fright
"ArE yOu AlIcE?"
T i c k
T o c k
T i c k
T o c k
"OfF wItH hEr HeAd!"
~Welcome to Wonderland, Alice~
To My Guardian AngelDear guardian angel,
Don't be too offended by this, but...are you even real? Are you watching me type this out right now, this second, like you should be? Or are you just some entity that is said to exist, but in reality, it's just a lie?
I want to know, if you are real, then why haven't I exactly gotten the guidance I need lately. Why haven't you protected me, like you're said to do, from all the things in my life that make me feel like I'm dying inside?
Why haven't you protected me from myself?
If you have tried, then, well...obviously you haven't tried hard enough for me to realize it or sense it.
Please. Try harder.
If you are truly real, guardian angel, then you know about my beliefs. You know that all those religious ideals that were drilled into me from the first day I could comprehend what the word "God" meant are slowly being replaced by nothing but cynical skeptism. You know that sometimes I would rather put what "faith" I do have in demons as opposed to angels,
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,
FrostbittenWinter is her favorite time of the year.
It's beautiful. Silver and blue dance around with one another in a waltz of freezing passion as snow and ice douse the land in a blanket of boreal glamour. Glass windowpanes become easels for falling snowflakes, frost etching into the smooth surfaces in intricate and unique patterns.
Winter has always been her favorite time of the year, and it always will be.
It is not because of Christmas--no, even though she loves the holiday, it is not what sparks her strong fondness for the star-colored blanketing across the land. Her infatuation with the snow and ice and everything cold has to do with something that most people don't truly believe in.
A boy whom she met long ago.
She still remembers the day like it was yesterday. Running around in the forest, laughing and tasting the snowflakes as they fell down into her parted lips and melting immediately on her tongue. All bundled up as a precaution, even though the winter has always been kind to h
Sweet EmilyEmily is six years old.
Emily lives with Mommy and Daddy in a big house.
Emily doesn't have very many friends because she doesn't go to school, but that's okay!
Emily has Tabitha! Tabitha and Emily are best friends. Tabitha looks like Emily, too! They both have blonde hair, though Tabitha always has hers in pig tails. They both have green eyes, too. Mommy and Daddy tell Emily that her green eyes means she has a biiiiig imagination; so that means Tabitha does, too! But sometimes Mommy and Daddy don't believe Emily when she tells them all the fun she and Tabitha have together…
They don't believe Emily when she tells them that it was Tabitha who used up all of Mommy's lipstick to make a picture on the wall. They don't believe Emily when she tells them that Tabitha was the one who broke the special plates in the locked cupboard that Emily can't reach. They don't believe Emily when she tells them anything Tabitha does, and it isn't Emily's fault.
"Oh, Emily, darling…it's pe
Passionate SovereigntyI'm so tired of writing love stories;
when I've not had one of my own.
I'm so weary of pretending I'm beautiful;
when my looks could turn a man to stone.
I'm so fatigued waiting for my prince;
when I'm not even a princess.
I'm so sick of pretending to be a siren;
when I could barely pass for an enchantress.
I'll tear down this repulsive prison of a
they call the mind,
brick by hideous brick;
and write my own fairytale at last.
RebirthFalling further down into the
abyss of agony with no way
to go up; and these chains
that bind wrists in iron so
cold that it burns like fire
refuse to shatter; drowning
in tidal waves of chaos and
Give me a blade to cut away these sulfuric bonds at last
and throw me a rope to pull me up out of this hole;
I'm weary of dying inside the coffin they call "the self"
and ready to crawl from the grave in armor woven
from the chains of misery and destruction.
No More TearsThere is a desert beneath her eyes
Dry, desolate, despairing
Devoid of life; devoid of emotion; devoid of hope;
Now just a broken ravine carved by sorrow
Now just a barren canyon chiseled by fear
Now just a fragmented chasm sculpted by dread
Now just a tearless void
curiouser and curiouserseventeen years &
still chasing white rabbits,
it's no wonder i've never
been in love.
we're all mad here;
no one can find the road to
(i don't know
where to go)
let's fall down a hole.
(i'm just a chrysalis
with no butterfly wings)
off with my head when it
can only imagine nonsense
& clockwork hearts.
give me a cheshire's smile-
i want to know
what it feels like
to be in wonderland.
A Scholarly MasqueradeSometimes 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.
Lachrymosejust because there are people all around me
doesn't mean I don't know what loneliness feels like
doesn't mean I go through every day faking a smile
when all I want to do is lock myself away and cry
because it feels like no one will want to understand or listen to
just because I have all the necessities of life
doesn't mean there isn't
where all I want to do
New Years (PrussiaXReader)It was New Years eve and you’d agreed (foolishly) to let your boyfriend invite his two friends over for the celebration. He’d promised it would be fun and said the more the merrier, but still! Well, it was your own fault for allowing it and besides, they’d probably get too drunk and pass out anyway.
You were just finishing up in the kitchen, the red apron that was tied around your neck bearing the brunt of the traces of ingredients. Gilbert was ‘helping’ too by sneaking a taste of whichever nibbly things you created and telling you how awesome they were no matter how many times he got clobbered by the various skillets that were lying around.
He cheered when he heard the doorbell ring and ran off to get tackled by his friends. After greeting each other loudly, they swaggered into the room, completing their Bad Touch Trio, as they called themselves, with identical smirks on their faces.
“Hola chica, I hope you’re going to take as much care of us
EnglandxReaderx2p!England: Twisted FairytalesTwisted Fairytales prolougue. WARNING: This series is not for the light of heart
I stood in front of the floor length mirror in my room, writing runes on the shining surface at a carefully slow pace. My messy blonde hair was covered by the dark green hood of my cloak. My baggy brown shirt that reached down to my knees was secured by a darker brown belt around my waist that matched my pants, all of which were covered in smudges from mistakes I had made on the mirror and rubbed off with my sleeves of wiped off on my pants.
I sighed, putting my writing utensil down and rechecking my work. I rubbed my green eyes, releasing a yawn. I had been drawing on this bloody mirror for close to five hours, and the sun was dipping low in the sky.
“Hey, Arthur?” I heard a knock at my door. Turning, I saw _______’s face peeking around the door, the young girl’s face gracing me with her beautiful smile. “You didn’t come down for dinner, so I brought you some!”
A Disease Called Loneliness...A Disease Called Loneliness...
Loneliness is a disease,
a sickness of sorts.
It is debilitating,
mind numbingly painful.
It is something
that can never go away on it's own.
No drugs have been invented
that can cure it and
no therapy can help treat it.
It is something that starts
with a broken heart and
can take your breath away
even in mid sleep waking you
as your lungs gasp for air.
Then when you think
it can get no worse.
It begins to spread
throughout your entire body
like a dreadful cancer.
I can feel it in the pit of my stomach now.
Gnawing away at both
my insides and my Soul...
as it creeps it's way outwards
tainting everything it touches...
I have felt traces of it
in my elbows and knees
and through out my arms and legs...
all the way to my fingers and toes.
Making me feel much older than I should.
So bad now in fact, people ask if I'm alright.
I do not make any noise,
I try and keep a straight face.
I try to act like all is ok.
But they say I look paler...
Netherlands x Reader ~Wayward~~Wayward~
A tower of signs and boards stuck on several different directions on a single post. Some were tacked on with sharp, straight nails hammered in with precision and care while others had been dismissively stapled on like cheap advertising that would rust away in the rain. Even before coming to a halt in front of the towering post, a traveller would wonder why there were so many signs with different directions leading to infinitely many paths. By some act of a joke, there were signs that even pointed to the sky. Some pointed to the ground. A few stringent posters nailed signs that pointed to the roads, but from such a long time ago that the words were unreadable. It was all very curious. Yes. "Curious" was an appropriate word for such a sight.
It was a crossroad, a gathering of paths. Which to choose? You, as a common traveller, weren't looking for any destination in particular, just a path to follow. Now, standing in front of the post riddled with words, pictures, and wood of al
An unspoken contract (ScotlandXReaderXPrussia)"Heey! How're ya doing?" A familiar voice asked you. You lifted your head off your desk to see the redhead's grin. "I'm alright I guess...." You mumbled, turning off the music that played in your ears. Allistor sat down next to you, cupping his cheek with his hand.
"So what're ya gonna do later?" Smiling, you told him your plans. The Scot had always been a good friend to you, especially since you weren't really liked by the other girls. There were one or two nice ones, but most of them resented you.
And that was because of the man sitting in front of you, listening to your chat and chirping responses. He was the one who'd come with you from Britain, a lifeline among all the others. He'd only followed you here because "you'd only get into trouble if you were left alone" apparently. Well, you had met Allistor in a fight, you supposed.
Your back was watched by your other friend, an albino. The moment you'd stepped into this school Gilbert'd fallen for you. The way you carried yourself pro
2P!EnglandXReader: Sweet as a Cupcake (OS)You hated to admit it, but it was completely hopeless, you in your situation.
You were completely lost.
You screamed in frustration again as you looked at the windy dirt road in front of you. You were from out-of-state, so it wasn't like you could take some secret passage or back road to get you to more civilization and get directions back to the hotel. You thought you'd be able to walk from the hotel to this neat little restaurant, which you did, you just had the problem of getting sidetracked and your feet suddenly having a mind of their own, leading you to who knows where.
There was almost no sign of civilization for a while. Just bushels beyond bushels of berries everywhere and the very poorly maintained dirt road you currently stood on. You tucked your (h/l) (h/c) hair behind your ear and sighed, walking and following the only road you could until you heard a rustling in one of the bushels. You jump back, a little skeptic of what's going on.
"Who's there? Show yourself now! I-I kn
Gives You Hell [NetherlandsxReader]Gives You Hell
Request: TheNetherlandsxReader; Past!SpainxReader
Written for: SimplyPrussiaous
I wake up every evening
A little yawn escaped your mouth when you got up groggily. Glancing at your clock, you decided that you would have to get up, though. It was around 7 PM anyways.
You slowly sat up, stretching your arms and legs a bit before exiting the bed, making your way towards the window. Outside you could see that the sun was still shining rather brightly. Then again it was spring, and days were quite long now, so it’s no real surprise at all.
With a big smile on my face
You couldn’t help but grin a little.
A year ago, nobody would have thought that you would live in a huge apartment in Amsterdam. With enough money to buy a very, very expensive car. (Every month, if you wanted to.) With a work you loved so dearly – you had been able to reach your life goal: becoming a famous designer. And not just did you have money, an apartment and
See No Evil (LatviaxReader)See No Evil
Eyelids slid shut, you listened to the world around you. You had the day off from school and were going to take advantage of it.
The park was full of many different sounds that varied over a large range during the day. When you had gotten there that morning, all you could hear was birds chirping. The morning dew on the grass soaked through your canvas shoes, but you could care less when you sat down on the damp wood of the bench.
You didn’t know how long you had been sitting on that bench when you first heard the heavy footsteps of the landscapers who took care of the park. Moments after that, the loud buzz of a lawnmower and the strong stench of gasoline mixed with the clean air and fresh cut grass smell. The bench began to dry under you.
Shortly after the workers left with their disruptive machinery, the light steps and shallow breath of a jogger rushed by you, followed by the off-key humming of some middle-aged woman on a ‘power walk
To protect (Female PrussiaXReader)Julchen smiled at you, the two of you hip bumping as you swung yourselves onto the dimly lit stage. The rest of your band were already on, Arthur tuning his guitar and Mathias setting a slow beat.
You smiled wryly at Julchen, then slipped behind the curtain to cross the back of the stage so you could enter on the other side.
When you heard the first notes, you strutted onto the stage, meeting Julchen in the middle and giving the audience your cockiest expression. Julchen ran her tongue over her lips, the lyrics in her own language flowing freely from her mouth.
Ich hab die Hand in meiner Hose
Ich kauf mir Playboy, saufe Bier
und wenn wir Größenfahrt gleich machen
haben die anderen nichts zu lachen
denn ich hab den größten hier
Ich will nua Dmax gucken
und Schüttelcola schlucken
Ich würd mich selber küssen
und nur zum Spaß freihändig pissen
She passed the microphone to you for the chorus and you jumped on your feet, grinning widely as you