- Invitation Status
- Not accepting invites at this time
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Douche
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Scifi, Fantasy, Modern, Magical, Horror, Noir, apocalyptic, Grimdark, yaoi, yuri, anything really.
This is the start of a HORRID, twisted journey.
Enter if you must...
Child Left Behind
Tiny fingers of a young child,
grasping around your hand,
With a temperament so mild,
But a hand drags its way and
Nothing is there anymore,
Child gone in it's grave,
There's a certain common lore
That the child had asked to be saved,
But the knight in shining armor never came,
And there was no one to save it from your horrid ways,
How long, must I wait until I'm the same?
I've asked myself over and over if there's a place
to go to be able to block out what I know is going to happen,
No matter what I do, I know I'll see that gravestone soon
Outside the Window
I hear the incessant tapping from across the room,
The rain knocking at the window to be let in,
It's tiny finger tips spread out as they tap a tune
across the glass and then slide down, dark sin
covering the light of day and swallowing the night,
It's hands, morphing into icy pellets, pummel the pane
Demanding to be let in and allowed the chance to fight
for the chance to consume my mind, nothing'll be the same,
Ignore the tapping - the wind howling- the pipes humming - and the walls creaking
Ignore the screeching need and the mindlessness of it's demands, shove it aside
Work.
Enter if you must...
Child Left Behind
Tiny fingers of a young child,
grasping around your hand,
With a temperament so mild,
But a hand drags its way and
Nothing is there anymore,
Child gone in it's grave,
There's a certain common lore
That the child had asked to be saved,
But the knight in shining armor never came,
And there was no one to save it from your horrid ways,
How long, must I wait until I'm the same?
I've asked myself over and over if there's a place
to go to be able to block out what I know is going to happen,
No matter what I do, I know I'll see that gravestone soon
Outside the Window
I hear the incessant tapping from across the room,
The rain knocking at the window to be let in,
It's tiny finger tips spread out as they tap a tune
across the glass and then slide down, dark sin
covering the light of day and swallowing the night,
It's hands, morphing into icy pellets, pummel the pane
Demanding to be let in and allowed the chance to fight
for the chance to consume my mind, nothing'll be the same,
Ignore the tapping - the wind howling- the pipes humming - and the walls creaking
Ignore the screeching need and the mindlessness of it's demands, shove it aside
Work.