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Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?
I cry. Does that make me emo?
I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?
I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?
I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?
I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?
I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?
I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.
Does that make me different?
Maybe.
But at least it makes me
Me.

FrostbiteNumbness
I can’t feel my toes and at first I think
It’s just my toes.
I can cover them up.
I can warm them.

It spreads, like fire,
Like ice.
I glance away for a second, it seems, and my feet are cold
Pat –pat
That’s funny, I didn’t feel that
Maybe I’ll cover them up too
I’ll warm them up.

I’ll take a nap
Maybe a short rest will make it all better, warm them
Up…
What’s that? How long has it been?
My legs… are you still mine..
Why has my breath left me, short?
Has everything but deserted me?

What about you, are you still here?
Are you still with me?
Hello?
And before I can say goodbye, I think my thoughts are leaving me too –

You'll Never Understand...You'll never understand...
But I'm glad you don't.
Because that would mean
You'd have to go through my pain.
And I'd never wish that
For you.

Dear fucked society,Dear fucked up society,
Why do you take our rights?
Our human rights?
To who we love?
To who we are.. To our image?
Tell me.

You force images down our throat;
Images of airbrushed, false looking
people. You want people to look
more skinny and cause anorexia,
More along the hidden line that
you dig under the ground like
a dead forgotten body yet always there

You show us that its not right to be gay,
lesbian, bi-sexual or transgendered..
And then wonder why the suicide rate is
so fucking high. You cause the nightmares
and terrors of our family not accepting us
our

Telling Childhood Goodnight.They were the fearless whispers through the starless night.
They were the pounding feet through the cobbled streets,
Screaming out for everything.
They were the fleeting memories of a time long gone by,
Blown away in the wind to a far away sky,
Where the air is cold and the stars never shine.

Memories leave their traces behind,
The scars on my legs from a day long gone by.
I was climbing a rock,
That would forever leave me with a flaw.

They were the youthful cries, screaming out.
They were the glowing eyes, on a fearless march,
Racing down the cobbled streets, blazing out for all to see.
The beacon of light that is now dying out,
I never wanted it to go away.
Everything is changing at a speed I can’t match,
I am drifting further every day.

It makes me want to cry that the best and worst days of my life,
Are being pushed away with every day that passes by.
I want to hold on
But each day I lose more ground.
Soon they will be gone without even a sound.

Th

Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character who
never existed but in the labyrinth of her head:
a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy words
she’d heard in her catatonic state; coma living
day in and day out, reliant on the salvation
of a man made of foreign wishing
and imperfection and necessity – an ignorance
of the less than ideal perception of self she’d
come to fear, absention stained romantic to the point
where daydreams were a standard for survival

(real living is for the purposeful of heart,
he loves her in her sleep)

I don't fight fair...Cut, bruised, scraped, forgotten. These things I have all been at least once in my life. But it
hasn't made me stronger, just more determined in my fight to live another day.
I know the ways of my attackers, studied their movements, learned their tricks and gleamed
their true motives. I have seen their weaknesses, their faults, theirs flaws and I have kept
them close to me, ready for use when the next time we meet.
They are cautious of me, they have weary from my adaptive ways, knowing that I can fall only
so many times. They are scared for I have the key to their defeat; not by sane ways, but by
the ways they fear to tread.
One look, one stare, one gesture and they will run in fear for the truth is upon them: "I won't
live restrained anymore."
"I have seen your errors an played on them like strings on a violin. Moved you to place were I
make the rules. Put you on display for all to see what you have done, and what will be done."

You ha

UneditedWe cry.
We scream.
We fight for our dream.

We scream.
We cry.
We're just waiting to die.

The same emotions
with a different drive.
Sometimes dead, sometimes alive.

The same in one way,
different in another
brother and sister, sister and brother.

So close in feeling,
so different in the end.
Falling apart, or finally on the mend?

Which am I?
Will I ever know?
Fighting to stay or ready to go?

Maybe I'm both,
in some impossible way.
Emotions oddly mixed everyday.

Wouldn't surprise.
I'm such a freak.
Excuse me, I laugh, I should call it "unique"

Happily AloneHonesty,
She does not have,
Personalities,
She has many of them.

A million shields,
a million personalities,
She's always changing,
to fit every person around her.

If one were to ask why,
she would answer with,
I will never reveal my weaknesses,
because she's evil.

She hates everyone,
stupider than her is barely tolerable,
smarter than her is too scary,
She hates it all.

She leaves the world behind,
To one she has dreamt of,
No color,
nobody else.

Then,
she will smile,
why,
because she is truly happy alone.

She is not evil,
She does not hate you,
She is not dishonest,
She simply wants to be alone.

lifelinesI fear the sound of sparrows
and the density of leaves
against dew-muffled blades
of grass,

and I'm drowning
in the sky.

My skin has learned how
to peel itself off
without causing a commotion
in my marrows or
even show the slightest hint
of pain,
and my heart has learned how
to hush the stars in their wake
and keep it all a secret.

There's a sea in my mouth
and I can't swim.

There are lifelines
cast like these and it will
all end with the same tragedy.

the carbon footprint of an arsonistyour crystal promise
rings drip off your glacial
fingers into global

nothings. the geodesic
dome you used to live in
is a hell you keep

clean-shaven and concentric,
spiraling away from you,
wrapping your unborn

children up in paper goblets.
for minimum wage, any geryon
would cling to the terza rima

inkblots on your
collarbones, his spongy molars
diving into your right

angles, his familiar laughs
killing your skin with
shivering cuddles and you

shudder, being self-diagnosed
at center of the universe,
your hair a nest of radio

waves, the one cosmic
principle drumming on the ancient
heart of mystery.

but amateur porn always
made you cry

of seafoam thronesFrom Atlas’ hands she wept to me,
atop Africas and South Atlantics;

this is one situation unaffected by
ember eyes and windy lashes
(it has no anatomy).

You are sparrows stranded
in tiny crevices and cliffside love,
though you rebuke flight
in the fear of chipping feathers.

So what do you do?

You reach for my soul,
coveting flight with shaking
dainty arms…

and perhaps I’ll let you:
With flytrap lips and
glass shaped hips…
you are unfit for anything but
sight.

(But beauty isn’t everything)

The WaitingBones hang from trees
Hollow windchimes rattling
In the sullen breeze

Dark clouds make noonday dusk
Rusted buttons on threadbare coats
Sorrow drips like rain

(From the fingertips of this dead-rose day)

Hoofprints kill the grass
Where the dark horse steps
The rider unsmiling

The tired and ill amble about
Cattle awaiting the shoulder tap
To sleep, but not to dream

(To become whatever the second birth dictates)

A Charmed LifeDoll-faced men and sinkholes, ancient tombstones
Leaves piled ankle-deep, falling down
Old wells, old graves, old friends lost
Pirate adventures in Neverland
Don't go into that barn

Ponchoboy and Rangergirl rise from the ashes
From the cold river, from afar
Remember before they were born, how they
Held hands and jumped into the world
Don't go into that school

Ladybugs, pennies, notes from the dead sun eclipse
Scrape the inside of your skull for clues
All the old dreams are still there, petrified
You are a rock of ages gibbering
Don't go into that factory

Ashes on the SandWe put you in
a crystal box
small enough for me
to hold in my
hands
(and that thought gives me
chill bumps)
The tide was high
where we took you
and I remember thinking
how pointless it was
(you were just going to wash
up on the shore)
Everyone was quiet
and some people cried
and as you were tossed
out to sea like so
many grains of sand
I thought how much
I missed you
(Now I think how much
I hate you
for leaving)

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Old SoldierIt's an old phrase, you know.
You might have heard of it.
Who guards the guards?
It's a good question.
Not new, but good.
Even the Romans had it.
Quis custodiet ipsos custodez?
The Romans left a legacy.
Everyone knows that.
The ancient soldiers.
I'm a soldier.
I protect the people
Usually from themselves.
But what if I need protecting?
Who is here to guard me?
Where is my legacy?
Did I fight for nothing?
All of the things I've seen
The scars I've carried
An old soldier fighting on.
Help me, please.

Protect me from myself.

Living a Dream P26Fenn ran down the street for dear life as the gunfire opened out behind her. She ducked and weaved; her training taking over as she bolted down the street. She felt a sharp pain in her leg, and staggered. She dragged herself around the corner, and ran head-first into the TARDIS.

The Eleventh Doctor poked his head out of the door, and peered down at her, where she had fallen on the ground.

"What're you doing down there?" he asked.

"Oh, you know, the usual, running for my life," Fenn answered.

"How's it coming along for you?"

"Could be better; they're almost 'round the corner."

"Well come in, come in, kettle's on."

The Doctor helped her

All night, All aloneAmy sat in the cold.

She sat alone, in the cold and the dark and the fear.

She sat alone, and she waited.

It was hard, being left behind. Always left behind.

Amelia Pond, alone in the dark.

She sat in the dead time machine, and she waited.

She waited for them to wake up.

If they ever would. Maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they'd leave her waiting forever.

The Raggedy Doctor. Her Raggedy Doctor.

And Rory. Oh, Rory. Poor, jealous, Rory.

They were just trying to make her happy.

But she already was.

And now she sat, in the cold, dead, time machine.

Praying they'd wake up.

Or that she'd dream.

She wished upon every star.

Just that she'd

Living a Dream P25END OF TIME SPOILERS :(

"That's how the Master started. It's not like I'm an innocent. I've taken lives. And I got worse, I got clever. Manipulated people into taking their own. Sometimes I think a Time Lord lives too long. I can't. I just can't."

Fenn sat on the train to Edinburgh, watching the rolling green landscape slide smoothly by, dotted here and there with hints of civilization. She felt nostalgic, watching the familiar quaintness of it all flow by. Of all the places she had been with the Time Agency, Earth was the quaintest. It had an odd feeling of comfort in familiarity about it. Fenn had seen lots of other planets, peoples, and

Living a Dream P24WARNING: End of Time spoilers :(

"I'm sorry, but I can't come."

Ianto asked, "Where will you go?"

Fenn looked at the crowd milling around the train station, "Home."

"You're a genius. You're stone cold brilliant; you are, I swear, you really are. But you could be so much more. You could be beautiful. With a mind like that, we could travel the stars. It would be my honour. Because you don't need to own the universe, just see it. Have the privilege of seeing the whole of time and space. That's ownership enough."

"Would it stop then? The noise in my head."

"I can help."

"I don't know what I'd be without that noise."

"I wonder what I'd be

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Hearts aren't Life

by ~Aredell, May 15, 2011, 1:23:44 AM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Here I am, living life
Accomplishing its feats,
Yet if in fact it's my heart you've stolen
Then why does it still beat?

Hearts aren't Lifeby ~Aredell

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Just a small nothing.

~Angel-of-the-doctor May 15, 2011 Student General Artist

Interesting. I like it.

~Aredell May 16, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

Thankyou

~Angel-of-the-doctor May 16, 2011 Student General Artist

You're welcome.

~Aredell May 17, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

*Time-Beast May 15, 2011 Digital Artist

I like this. Short but bouncy.

~Aredell May 15, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

Thankyou

~JROD7022 May 15, 2011 Writer

I LIKE IT!!!

~Aredell May 15, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

Hehe, thanks!

~JROD7022 May 18, 2011 Writer

yw lol

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Hearts aren't Life

Hearts aren't Lifeby ~Aredell

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