S-ecret-Song

I want you to stop whatever you're doing and just take a deep breath. I don't care if you're in a coffee shop, if you're in church, if you're alone. stop whatever you're doing, clear your mind and take a deep breath in. inhale. hold that breath. hold it. now, let it out. exhale. do it again. suck in until your lungs can't hold anymore air. you probably look stupid, but ignore that and hold that breath. hold it. again, exhale. feel better? you're relaxed now and your mind is on my words. good, that's how I wanted it. I want you to be focused on each word that I'm writing down, it may change your life. don't laugh. it's not funny, I'm being ser

ME - pourin' salt into an open wound just makes the victim cry louder HIM - but endurance only made 'em strong, never turned these hearts into powder ME - just stone; cold as ice HIM - but they told me that the charmed time is syninymous with thrice ME - it ain't three. seventy times seventy. those are the numbers of the wounds HIM - so lift your hands darlin' so your heart can be lifted like balloons ME - hands are lifted and cries go out silently to the King; He answers, but where's the Savior? HIM - it's hard walkin' through a desert, so remember that these drops of water I gotta savor ME - "there's awlways an oasis" my momma used

"You kill only what you see." The wolf said as blood poured out into the snow around his body. Amber eyes looked up to the humans around him, no anger or hate in his gaze; only kindness and love. He knew it wasn't for real reasons that they had stabbed him in the chest, neck and back, but only because they had wool over their eyes. A grin spread his lips, showing the white teeth that hadn't killed in his whole life. The humans shrieked and stepped back, but one girl stepped forward and bent down to look at him. The mother of the girl yelled for her to get back, but she turned and said in a voice as smooth as silk, "Why? He is wounded and dyin

Grinding my teeth, I look at your weak form as you lay in a heap on the floor. A single punch to your face knocked you clean out and blood oozed from your nose. Hazel eyes look over your child-like face and I spit to the side. You had it coming. You had it coming for a long time. Telling me I was a whore, over and over. I had held back for a long time, and today was the last straw. I knew, as soon as I saw your baby blue eyes that it was going down today. I was sure that you knew it as well. Bending at the knees, I lower myself down to get a closer look at you. Blonde hair clung to your face, blood seeped from your nose, mouth open as you str

"I'm only gonna call you seven times." "what? seven is an uneven number!" "exactly."

Slamming the trunk, I sighed and looked at the two story house in front of me. This place had been my home for eight years and now I was leaving; leaving without anybody knowing where I was going. I had stayed until I was eighteen and that was enough time. My life was passing me by and I needed to pack up. I had done that. Clothes were stuffed in three bags and my closet inside was empty. Only a note hung where clothes once were and I smirked at myself. I had done everything legally to be free from this place and all I needed was a note to leave. Note was written, speared by a hanger and left for whoever to find it. It would probably be found

I have these fears of getting old and I've told no one about it. I have a fear of my body becoming thin, breakable, weak and unusable. I have a fear of not being able to see, hear or even smell. I have this crazy fear of not being able to remember who I am, who my family is or where I'm at. I'm afraid of age, time and death. I don't want to grow old or feel myself becoming weak. I don't want to have skin that sags and teeth that fall out. I don't want my hair to turn gray or my eyes to lose their shine. I'm so scared of becoming all of those things, but there is nothing I can do to stop it. there's not one, single thing I can do about it. so

this thing we call life, is just a pit of darkness that some people walk around in. it's a giant hole filled with a midnight color and the only way for us to see the top of this hole we walk around in is to go to that cabinet and pop a couple pills. looking at the shell that I walk around in, this thing I call my body, it makes me sick. what's the point of this shell, who finds it attractive? I don't feel as if I own it, but I let others take advantage of it and that's fine. it's just a shell anyway; pointless. I feed off the sexual tension of the boys that find the way I move my hips desirable. pills and bodies rubbin' against mine, that's m

it's her funeral. not your girlfriend's or your mother's, but my mother's. she's dead. gone. her body is no longer working. blood doesn't flow through her veins anymore. lungs don't expand or deflate. she's just still. almost like she's sleeping, but as I look down on her face I know she isn't sleeping. her pale face looks like nothing of the mother I knew when blood made her cheeks flush. a single tear slips from my eye and down my cheek. no make-up is smeared, because why would I wear make-up? my mother was dead. no reason in looking nice. in fact, my cut up jeans and plan white-t got me stares from my other family members and friends of my