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Somethings you never utter. Somethings are never muttered. Somethings inside your head. You'll keep in there until your dead. These things that are never said. Will keep you awake when you're in bed.
When I was little I was called a Crack Baby. That's how I learned about my mom's addiction. The girls in school would tease me about it.
This is just a quick one I wrote.We had to do a short story about a person feeling emotions and there was a Vietnam one someone did so I decided to do my own on that idea.Enjoy.
Chapt 9, part 1 I wake up in a hospital ward bed. My head feels funny and my mouth is dry. Slowly, I blink my eyes open and groaned to let the nurses know I am awake.
"Jack. What is it?" he remained still as a statue. His breathing rate increased until he was hyperventilating. "what do we do?" Florence asked wide eyed.
I watched her take you, Skin ice cold, eyes blue, Wrists captured, Soul enraptured, It was my fault, Made you a victim of her assault, I led the monster here, So she could steal your air, I didn't...
Diane..
Isn't your house supposed to be a nice warm, happy place for your family, and laughs, a place called home. Well how can this house be called a home.
Improv challenge set by @Thebeautifulundead Warning 18+ On the 10 O'clock news her crime was heard Her memory of it all was hazy and blurred All she knew was that it had been 6 long years Of...
My mother. That very second made me realise how awful I had been. How stupid I always was. I barely even spoke to my mother, I just blamed her for how I was.
The iron kettle rang on the stove, sending whistles through my ear. In the whistle went through my left ear and came out of my right. Nothing stopped it. My mind is empty.
Open my chest and rip it free, Hold it, in your hands, the life of me. Pull it out and squeeze it tight, Ignore the pleas, the cries of my plight.
#OpussWings I had been sat in the chair for an age. Straps at my limbs, like a cage. Matted hair and whitewashed walls, Other experiments' screams and calls.
The hand I was holding belonged to Lewis. Even with the scarfs removed from our faces we kept our fingers intertwined, keeping us clasped together. Harry took my free hand and examined my wrist.
The smoke alarm is going off I really should get going But there is an attractive thought That I think is worth knowing There is no indecision here If I stay I die I wonder who'll be at the...
Waking up from a bad dream Torn and frail. You'll start to leave scars. The pain I feel reflects on a whole new scale. I push and scratch. You shove and attack.
I look into the mirror, There's cracks along the glass, A world to look into, Staring into a mask.
Took to a place I wouldn't normally go, it's name I don't even know. Just a tiny thing I was, then I was taken within a buzz.
Poor girl behind the glass Reflections of her own past Tears falling down porcelain cheeks As she's left plastic to feel weak Who would have thought this her task.
Part One of the Opuss Battle Royale I stood at the brow of the hill, surveying the broken land beneath me.
My heart races. I can hear it beating in my ears. I open my mouth but no sound comes out. I'm almost there. I close my eyes. I've said my good byes. My feet began to tingle. My fingertips go numb.
There in the Cul-De-Sac I lay. Broken..... How did I get here. I'll tell you how: A sleepless nights worth of words was all I had. Swirling like a torrent in my mind - wanting to escape.
I woke up to blurry vision, bright lights and spasms of pain taking hold of my body. I yelled out and was greeted by a figure yielding a needle that was promptly shoved in my arm.
I felt cold hand on my wrist, it pulled my back. I almost felt on the ground. Suddenly someone sucked up to my lips. It was Mark. It was so sick, I wanted to throw up.