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Showing stories tagged with #self-expression Clear filter
You may call us different,. Guess different, that we are,. A freak, you may, express that way,. Won't get you very far,. We're the ones sat in the corner,. Of the blazing party lights,.
Inspired by my sisters crazy hair dip/dye. So many colours, Blue, purple, pink. Just the end is enough; What will mum think?. Streak it on softy, Highlight certain strands.
When I've not all to do, I don't need a stencil. My thoughts and ideas, Explode from my pencil. I've been at it for years, But I won't say I'm good. But wait 'til you see What's under the hood...
Sugar and spice. Everything nice. I'm not that sort of girl... Woodlice and snails. Puppydog tails. Come on, let's give it a whirl... I'm more exotic, Not quite erotic, But made of something new...
M usic, a huge part of my life. U niversal language for all. S ounds that help, calm or ignite. I t's magic never fails to pull. C omfort from pain, always something to gain.
Maybe one day I'll conquer this fear. And get my arse past first gear. My way to express. The feelings I suppress. Is to rhyme. Time after time. But locked away. Forever and a day. In my secret book.
Your a firework. Bursting with colours. Your a firework. Blooming with flowers. Your a firework. Brightening up the sky. Your a firework. In your eyes- as it reflects in mine. Your a firework.
Some say that I'm chatty, Defiantly batty, Independent and out-going, Pretty swotty and all-knowing, Adventurous and daring, Kind and very caring, But my most noticeable trait, Often annoying,...
It doesn't matter. What ranking I am. What matters the most. I've done the best that I can. I like writing my jibber. Creating new stuff. If you don't like them. I guess it is tough.
The plot is not always perfection, The words not quite polished to glow, Some headed in backwards direction, But, sometimes, a flaw needs to show, Not all writes can shine as a diamond, Immortalised...
It's late at night. But I had an urge to write. Sometimes I get these itches. Ripping me like broken stitches. So I make a rhyme. To past the time. Or because words start to flow.
Being different is for the strong. It's for the people that are individual and don't care what society thinks is wrong. Wearing only "innapropriate" things from pink.
Hear me out My darling family Don't I deserve for You to notice me.
Inky pages,. Leather bound,. Filled with secrets,. Never found,. Messy writing,. Confused words,. Filled with poems,. Never heard,. Ink splatters,. Green and blue,. Filled with things,.
Yesterday, so much happened on my Opuss. Scarcely a minute went by when there wasn't a new message on my home screen. But today, barely anything has happened.
The readers on Opuss are like my second family I don't need to pretend that I'm always happy. It gives me hope and faith that I'm not alone That your thoughts and perceptions are close to my own.
So what if I am honest. Just saying the truth. Just saying it like it is. Like a picture on a photo booth. You may like it or not. But I like it a lot. My opinion, I want to be heard.
My music tastes are interesting,. Not what's classed as 'cool',. You see, it's rather different,. From the other kids at school,. I don't like pop,. Rapping and dance,. It really does annoy me,.
Lipgloss. I love a lot. Makes me feel hot. Lipgloss. Is the boss. Many shades I've got. In pink dazzle. I'm on the razzle. In nude shade. I'll behave. In deep red. A lust is fed. In aubergine.
Yes, I am impulsive, I'm dauntless, that's a fact. Me and 'edgy', we're a pair, Me and 'danger' have a pact.
#Household - favourite poster. Oh, my favourite poster, Is not one but them all: For what I have done, myself, Is collaged up my wall.
It seems my minds my only escape. So please excuse my flawed messy words. But somehow it's the only way I feel safe. To let my mind wonder here and there, day and day again till my very end.
What I write is my own decision I don't do it for recognition Here's my confession Just listen... What I write means a lot to me Don't you see.
When I'm on the floor, It's all me, nothing more. When I groove And bust a move, I'm dancing And prancing.