Sneek Peek At The Void Book Two: ExileBear's claws scrabbled at the rough, crumbling rock. He clung to the face of the cliff helplessly, unable to pull himself back up. "*BENJI! Help!" He yelped as one of his back paws nearly lost its grip on the tiny ledge. "HELP!" He called again, more desperately. Finally, Benji's face appeared in place of the dark, stormy sky. "Why, hello." He said calmly, in a not-at-all Benji-ish way. "Help me up!" Bear urged. Benji studied his paws for a painfully slow heartbeat before replying, "So. You need my help for once, huh, halfbreed?" "What?!" Bear gasped, staring at him in confusion. "You heard me. You're a filthy halfblood." Benji's lip curled. "But it wouldn't do to have you die here." He gingerly extended a paw, which Bear grasped in his teeth and pulled himself up, staring at his old friend in shock. "Wh-what do you mean? I'm a pureblood!" Benji tsked. "Oh, they never told you the truth~ I supposed they did tell you that you were a pureblood, practically born a hero
Tired...I'm tired of playing these gamesI'm tired of living this lifeI'm tired of breathe, it'll all get betterBecause you lied.Its not getting better.Its getting so much worse...
Free.They're asking you to rememberJust so you can forget.I'll never bend, never bowI'm stubborn to the end.You can grovel and snivel and whine,That's just fine be me.But I will never do what they demand,Because I want to be free.
.Its funny howSome people can justBlend into a crowdYou've seen them all your lifeBut never bothered to ask their nameAnd yet we say we care for everyone?
..........I don't seeWhy people yell whatI already know About myselfAt meI knowThat I'm messyAnd that I'm not the best at everythingI was there when I knew it for myselfSo you don't haveTo tell me.
IfIf I were to love you,BlindlyWould you guide me to your heart?If I were to miss you,DeaflyWould you call for my empty ears to come?If I were to tell you,MutelyWould you hear my silent cries?If I were to hold you,UnfeelinglyWould you alwaysTell me lies?
Brown Eyes Compliments, and AnalogiesBecause I'm sick of people saying there aren't any.Your brown eyes are like the deep intoxication of campaign wine, bubbling with hazing richness and expensive taste.Your brown eyes are like the color of mahogany wood- comforting and home-steady toughness that lets me know you will be the beams of supporting me.Your eyes remind me of Dove chocolate, smooth, creamy, delectable, and melting.The color of brown eyes remind me of mountain terrain and nature, something subtle, but beautiful in every form and season.Brown eyes make me think of Devil's cake, taunting and tempting, curtained by black lashes, the symbol of rich seduction.When brown eyes delve in love, they become the color of a leather book, promising a story of loyalty, long-life, and devotion.Your brown eyes remind me of mysterious secrets, dark to cover the pain of ignorance, opaque to cover to want of another.Brown eyes are like the stable ground, steadier and prepared to embrace you when you fall, into a nurturing a
On quest for friendsSearch for friends on your enemies area.
what does it feel like to be sober at a party?sometimes you want to spit out your teethbecause you’ve been grinding them so hardunder a diaphanous coating of crimson lipstick;but you know the floors already freckled with confetti-aluminum and glass and paper-and the eburnean pearls tucked away in your mouthare not able to be recycledand sometimes it’s rivulets on the back of your neck,droplets dripping like honey,because the rooms heating up from people swarming like bees;as your cheeks burgeon like crimson rosesyour oversized sweater becomes your only source of safety-maybe from the constant touch of others,as they bump around like lost passengers at a train station, or maybe protection from those seeking pollination you see mouths paintedwith the liquid limerence, the daunting dalliance,of any boy or girl with a tongue;as their veins pump with effervescent liquid,and their hearts turn to corks and bottle caps,you can’t help but wonder what it’s liketo dance with something other
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisDo not assume (if I hold the door for you),that I am making a statementabout your inabilitiesto open the door for yourself.If you hold it for me,I'll say 'thankyou'.Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),that I am underestimatingyour earning capacityas a woman.If you invite me out for a meal,you're paying.Do not assume (if I defend your rights),that I am belittlingthe attempts that you have madeto defend your rights yourself.If you defend my rights,I'll consider you human.
The 16 in Nietzsche.The Scientists.We remade our eyes of plasticbecause we can wipe them cleanwithout pain: at night our skinhas been fitted with lights and wealtered the chemical patternin our brains to forget ourselvesor maybe the rest of you,life is hard without numbersto describe it because the Earthis an irregular rock floating somewhereinconceivable: and I am even morea mystery, a contradiction seekinga definitive despite the logicof entropy,the only continuityis none.The Activists.I'll rewrite us again. We are nothingbut an idea of the issue and itsresolution, the bum sleeping in the backof a truck or your quantum physics class,always borrowing notes but acingthose tests, drawing a crowd with nothingbut an idea and a voice to speak it,isn't it charming to be alive?Isn't the world so beautiful throughthe right fish-eye lens?I think if we think hard enoughit'll turn over or at least I'll pass thisunharmed,our spirit aches at every slightwe imagine and every victor
Fat Girls Shouldn't Wear ShortsFat girls should not wear shortsto "show off their curves"or "display their legs"because thick thighsdo not actuallysave lives.They should not wear shortsbecause everyone willgawk and talkand hope they canmentally erase the imageof chubby legs and wide hipsrubbing together.There must have been a reasonthey were watching your backin the first place,anyway.Fat girls should not wear clothingthat does not suittheir body type.Throw on a sweatshirtand feel like a prisonerin a cotton cage.Let yourself become"one" with yourinsecurity.Never dare to wear revealing clothesbecause no one is attracted torepulsive, ample limbs.You will never find a loverbecause character and self-worthare determined by themeat on your bones.All people are created equal,and equal equals skinny,and skinny equals theideal woman.But the ideal womanspends all of her timeloathing her appearance &
.I wish that I couldGo back to the timeWhen my worst worryWas not getting enough chocolate syrup on my icecreamAnd my worst fearWas the villian in a storybookBut I have come so farAndIHateMyselfForGrowingUp.