- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Douche
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Fantasy, magical, medieval, scifi, romance and action!
ALL THE -PUNK GENRES
What would be an Inner Voice?
A thing that whispers, good or bad
With you listening without a choice
As they are your comrade
These vary from every person
They don't care for crotch or colour
They are made as age worsens
And your fantasies become duller
Some are louder than others
With the loudest having say
over how you treat your brothers
to your dying day
Some are good and yet bad
Some are bad and yet good
They can't make you eternally glad
Nor can they crush you as you stood
In theory.
These Voices can be broken
And try to drive you just as mad
For the words they have spoken
Sound as just as Galahad
One is named Vanity
And make you think looks are all
Even in the face of tragedy
You'll worry that you might be too tall
One is called Arrogance
And convinces you, you're a gift from God
And He simply forgot to add Omnipotence
Into your divine Bod'
My own is called Self-Hatred
He makes sure I'm not Arrogant
I keep him, for as I stated
Sense excluded, he is my Comrade.
I sometimes listen, sometimes don't
I keep him there, For I am scared
Who would speak if he won't
Thus, I choose how I'm impaired
Currently, he's more of a foe than a friend
But only he has a permanent place
I'll never abandon him in the end
For I had him emplaced
Is this right? Is this wrong?
I don't know the answer.
I know I'd rather have Self-Hatred
Than suffer the voice of Arrogant
A thing that whispers, good or bad
With you listening without a choice
As they are your comrade
These vary from every person
They don't care for crotch or colour
They are made as age worsens
And your fantasies become duller
Some are louder than others
With the loudest having say
over how you treat your brothers
to your dying day
Some are good and yet bad
Some are bad and yet good
They can't make you eternally glad
Nor can they crush you as you stood
In theory.
These Voices can be broken
And try to drive you just as mad
For the words they have spoken
Sound as just as Galahad
One is named Vanity
And make you think looks are all
Even in the face of tragedy
You'll worry that you might be too tall
One is called Arrogance
And convinces you, you're a gift from God
And He simply forgot to add Omnipotence
Into your divine Bod'
My own is called Self-Hatred
He makes sure I'm not Arrogant
I keep him, for as I stated
Sense excluded, he is my Comrade.
I sometimes listen, sometimes don't
I keep him there, For I am scared
Who would speak if he won't
Thus, I choose how I'm impaired
Currently, he's more of a foe than a friend
But only he has a permanent place
I'll never abandon him in the end
For I had him emplaced
Is this right? Is this wrong?
I don't know the answer.
I know I'd rather have Self-Hatred
Than suffer the voice of Arrogant