No Happy Ending This Time

In English, we say "I miss you."

But in poetry, we say...

"I cried again today,

Thinking of all I wanted to say.

I don't get why you decided to throw it all away.

You were my North, my South, my East and West,

Truly my home, but now I can't seem to rest.

I still smile when I remember our happiest memories,

I still laugh at the jokes you made,

Why did you have to go away?

I think of you every night,

Wondering 'how is your life?'

Have you achieved all you told me about,

Or is your head still full of doubts?

I cried again today,

Wishing I could have made you stay,

But you're happier without me

And I have to accept that you became a memory."

I signed up to my school's writing contest and we have to write a 1200 characters text. The theme is about colors.

I can't figure out whether I should write a depressing poem or a fantasy/happy/creative poem.

I know that the teachers will like the depressing one more, but I would have more fun writing something crazy and creative.

I don't know what to do.

To any suicidal followers I may have: This is a sign to not kill yourself. You are loved and the world is special because you are in it. Keep holding on.

-PLEASE REBLOG THIS YOU MAYBE ARE SAVING SOMEONES LIFE

You are special and amazing , If you need to talk or some help send me a dm and I will talk to you.

Could you write something about fairys?

The Faerie's Ballad

In the soft twinkle of night, or in the choas of the day,

Do not fear, children, for faeries are never far away.

If only you paid closer mind,

You too would see their wings shine.

Dancing in meadows and singing in trees,

Faeries have always been near.

Those delicate beings, full of grace and love,

Sometimes perform spectacles we have grown to ignore.

For who would watch a waterfall and see in it the faeries' orchestra ?

We have long since forgotten the tune of their opera.

Once upon a time, we wished upon them,

The brightest stars to our imagination.

But now in this world full of gray,

Faeries have learnt it is better to hide away.

“how did you get into writing” girl nobody gets into writing. writing shows up one day at your door and gets into you

Three wishes

If I found a magic lamp, or a fairy,

I already know what I would ask the genie.

I'd wish someone would look at me

Like they are mesmerized

By a sunset or a stary night.

I'd wish someone would care enough

To hold me when days are tough,

Yet still see me as a person,

And not just a burden.

I'd wish someone would help

Paint a smile on my face

And finally bring joy to this place.

But I have no genie, no magic wand or fairy,

No wishes left, no promises kept.

I have no flying carpet or broom,

No way to get to the moon,

So I sit, wide awake, at night,

Hoping it would all be alright.

But at the end of the day,

I'm all alone and you're far away.

Pretty like spring

She was pretty.

Not pretty like a sunset or a painting,

Those were too bright and bold to ressemble her.

No, she was quiet like the night and her voice was melodious like the soft songs of birds in the early morning.

She had eyes the colour of the ocean, yet not quite exactly.

No, her eyes were the colour of a thunderstorm, expressive and powerful.

Her skin glowed in the sun, not perfect, not always smooth, but so beautiful.

Her smile was like a thousand stars, shining so bright even the sun was jealous.

She was a mystery, yet so very magnetic; walking away from her made no sense when her entire being promised an infinity of new beginnings.

She was immensely pretty, but not pretty like the sun or the moon.

She was pretty like spring, like the soft rays of sunshine that melted the winter's snow,

Like the small flowers that grew on every inch of grass and littered every garden.

She was pretty like butterflies and puppies,

The way you could never tear your eyes away.

And she did all that effortlessly.

list 5 things that make you happy, then send this to the askbox of the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers! <3

My cats

Listening to music

Writing

Poetry

Art

Found another prompt on pinterest, here's what i wrote

I would like to take some time to appreciate the irony, of a god as old as eternity being mistaken.

If I were to ask you what your thoughts were about Death, the big old guy with the scythe and the creepy cloak, what would you say? That Death brings desperarion and desolation, grief and pain and nothing more. Some might even fear him.

But in this apocalyptic wolrd, things are different, because if all humans die, so does Death.

For what is the Grim Reaper without souls to reap?

Nothing, exacly.

So Death does as best he can, leaving clues, messages and warnings in his trail, hoping to help any poor soul who might look close enough to notice it. They might not be able to see him, but common sense get better as people fight for survival, and gut feelings – Death's indications, really – are often more important.

The survivors have started to realize only now that a higher being watches over them. Is it God or the Saints? No, it's Death itself. But were you to ask them, they would answer you truthfully that the entity protecting them is known as Life.

Ironic, isn't it?

At least Death thinks so, laughing every time he remembers this.