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Literature Text
"I lost hope for myself a long time ago," he tells me.
I listen, drinking up his words. I want to make more spill out of his mouth, so I ask "Why?" It slips out of my mouth and takes flight and flutters on the cool October breeze.
"Because," he says, the word hanging in the air, "there's no hope left for any of us."
The words float over to me, pierce my skin. I don't want to believe they left red welts on my skin, burning into my mind. Which is why I say, "Yes there is. Hope is like maybe. It always turns out to be a yes in the end. And if it's not, then it's just a no."
He laughs, the sound bouncing into my ears. "You're pretty wise for a kid your age, girl."
"Maybe."
I listen, drinking up his words. I want to make more spill out of his mouth, so I ask "Why?" It slips out of my mouth and takes flight and flutters on the cool October breeze.
"Because," he says, the word hanging in the air, "there's no hope left for any of us."
The words float over to me, pierce my skin. I don't want to believe they left red welts on my skin, burning into my mind. Which is why I say, "Yes there is. Hope is like maybe. It always turns out to be a yes in the end. And if it's not, then it's just a no."
He laughs, the sound bouncing into my ears. "You're pretty wise for a kid your age, girl."
"Maybe."
Literature
i survived.
i am from a yellow slide in my backyard.
i am from fresh-brewed iced tea
and monday night tv.
i am from the strawberry-place.
i am from the pink and green cushions
the yellow high-heeled shoe
i remember sitting on so many nights.
i'm from six-dollar lunches,
and the shack next to the river,
from paths in the woods and
a marathon down my street.
i'm from knuckle smacks with a ruler
and notebooks full of doodles,
from my brother's tests taped to the fridge.
i'm from
Literature
Self Righteous Suicide
Self Righteous Suicide:
We're sleeping,
In a cold world,
That has long denied the light.
We isolate,
Each other,
As we walk alone at night.
We plot,
Unholy vengeance,
As we dream of endless death,
We hate,
Our reflections,
As we choke away our breath.
We sleep,
And suffer,
Tormented by our dreams.
Alone,
And frightened,
None shall hear our screams.
So sick,
So vengeful,
A taste that is sickly sweet...
Let me end,
This life,
For hope I shall not meet...
"Why should we alone cry, when angels deserve to die?"
-Chen Yuan Wen, 24th February 2012
Literature
not-love, i promise
cigarette butts and sharpened key chains
five second romances in the fast lanes
i hope you know i don't love you
or that i know your favorite color is blue
your skeletal structure, all pressed up against mine
curled catlike, purring softly into my ear, teeth in a line
your smile stretches the skin on your face
and it doesn't remind me of romance, silk and lace
that day when you smashed up my car
that was the end of our kisses on tar
for you, you're in love
for me, i'm in apathy
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Comments23
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i love this
just pure adoration
just pure adoration