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?
here's to society1all those doctors who constantly measure mesay i'm "1.59... And 5mm - that's almost 1.60"because they can't look at my sad face(everyone's so high above me)and tell me this body's too small to evercontain anything great2i avoid those numbersbecause 5 too much mean sittingin the fat kids' corner all weekwatching the others eat puddingand 1 kilo still means mockeryfriends patting my stomachguys telling me I shouldn't eatand "i'll always have these curvesbecause i'm a lady" is no excuse,"french of the 16th centurywould've admired these hips" is no argumentnow i'm starting to feel like i fit myselfelven girl, steps of dusti could dance up there in the cloudswith my mindthey're gonna weigh me on the 30thmother says she knows it's too littlebut i still have my wasp waistand rococo hipsand all the wrong kinds of beauty(but someone's gotta love them, huh)crazy girl, i don't like butterfliesbut me in my striped tights3last year i stopped dyingmy hair, i
i. my little pigeon,you walk the line betweenreality and imagination, strayinginto the unknown and bringingback little pieces of wonderwith you when you return.ink drips from your fingers asyou smear words onto pages,breathing life into stiff piecesof paper torn from your notebook.coffee may be where i foundmy home, but it's tea that runsthrough my veins. i could braidyour hair for hours, letting the silkystrands run through my fingers likeyour words run through my heart.we can walk into the sunrise together,holding hands and laughing. i will sharethe sunsets i hold in my tiny palms,and you can share the stories you lockin your heart. i want to travel the worldwith you, pointing out the little quirksthat make up people and stumblinginto adventures behind little shopsand backwards alley ways. i hopeyou remember your handkerchief,or we might end up flying there andback again in the blink of an eye.
Call it Fallthere's a soft kiss ofmedium-rare sunlightin the barelybroken bonesof this October dayjust warm enoughto think that summermay have stasheda day or twoin our pocketsbut each tomorrowreminds us morethat it didn'tthat this autumnknows little lifeoutside its barrelof choking appleswhere yellowjacketsbore, conquer and,still sweet,curl into a coolslow sleepof frozen dreamspaused in dawn'sblanket of frostthese short daysunder long nightscount down toa new beginningof the enda dark springof bright blushand angerthat will burn this forestnot down, but nakedand we call it Fallas if there's a misstepor slip involvedas if we make a choiceor skip the chanceto not veerfrom daylight's trailonto these our printsso well worn and re-worninto timetwo human sets enterand where it goesfrom theregets lost in thecrunch of leavesbeneath usour moon stays lowgiving trees new lifeand wind carries crieslike song, for miles
decodei pinedunequivocallyfor the quillin soft shadows:the swallow's smileand toothyflightthe curveof treebowsrotting-freshto planta buduphigh andhemlocking-mebetween a dreamand sleepand sleepand sleepyou musn't worryI have foundan ink-sourcethus:a quibblingcreek -my soul!It willblossomlike poppieson the pagebefore me,myfingertipthe pen
ten.why don't we sit underthe hangmans noose;contemplate lifefor a bit.watch the crows hustle aroundthesefrayed ropes, and listen to thewind rustle dirt'sleaves.there's a cool breeze comingthrough,almost too cold, its...bitter.so let's just walk away and seek thewarmthunder these charcoalfeathers.[its a comforting feeling to have life, anddeath in your control. ]
people don't listen (you've just too much to say)we fell asleep in hotel rooms filled with stars, the leaky faucet in the kitchenette dripping galaxiesinto oblivion. they might have faded by the morning, butthey were beautiful while theylasted, drifting inand out of f o c u s with the ebbingof a neon-light tide -it reminded me that beautyfades with ageno matter how brightyou may shine . (black holes are so cliche, but they're some kind of nothing made from something and that's beautiful enough for me)
.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.