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?
a picture of perfectionShe was a painting;not a Rembrant or a Da Vinci...much more vibrant than those, she wasthe fade of Monet,her quirks just shy of a Picasso portrait,and at the same time not quite shy enough.She was a Van Gogh landscape:full and bright and articulate and beautiful-but a real mess up close.Like someone forgot that when you make peoplethey're supposed to stay inside the lines.
Night SkyPaint me a story of words,the clouds and sky sit as a attentive audience.The stars outline filled with memories of our epic journey.Hands will be joined together underthe light of the Haley’s Comet.The man in the moon will stay hidden in the moon,we’ll seek him out while sitting on our picnic basket.
MemoriesI would spill gasolineOn my memoriesAnd set them on fireIf it didn't implyMelting the outlinesOf my beingSpreading the atomsInto nothingnessAnd losing trackOf my existenceCrafted fromMoments
GoneGoing far awayObserving the road aheadNever considering going backEnding another chapter of my story
ways we constellate/a. dictitious/iam well-woven.iam a spellthat does not releaseand never tells.these constructionsi allow,and betterawakento speak in hearttonesand hymnbeatson rugged pavements.ihave builtart./b.beautine/this body hasforgotten its infinitebeatings, denieditself the luxuryof acceptancethis body hasremembered its lovers'last names, phone numbers,birthmarks and kindnessthe only cruelty this vessel knowsis from its middlesi have riddled myself intowarmth/c.capabuilt/these handsare imbuedwith patient dynamismand ichorthat the goddessessavorthey have movedmountain rangesand hoisted dark seasoverhead,then returned themdeftlysuch instruments deserve morethan my doubtsihave cloudedthe veins tenacious/d.aitbaar/i allowed thesehands to hold me.i have yet to feellike lessthan a Dalidreammy little ashesare coming closethe Gangeslost its murkto me; i carryremainsi house brokennesstill it is perfectedkintsugi
For But a Blinkthere is little grey leftin a sky going white we are too soon to win the struggle for memory, history far too early-on to be trusted see me through me you us we found everything and lost it in the hot blurry state shift of the ember we pretended we weren'ta burning window closes and this brief mess of man is crystallized for but a blink in the snap and crash of its cr
au(roar)aa shy glow of apologeticsunrises, she will neverknow how beautiful she ishis magpie eyes, they pryat her colours, leavingher with onlythe itch of dried tear tracksat 3 in the morningrough tissues scrape at herdelicate nose,strewn around her like white flowersthat he never gave to her.and he never showed herthe glow of the stars,a bond between this morning girl and the universehe could’veshe would’vethey should’ve beenentwined in dawning light, buthe was a night guard and nightis afraid of staining golden black.so she took the light caged in her heartand threw it intothe abyss of sorry’s and i love you’snever saidas the moth he was,he followed.she wanted him to catcha spark (on fire)instead, he never came back.sometimes the midnight feelswarmer than a sunrise-it guards her and between the blackshe is beautifulfinally, the emptine
misconceptionsand as he paces the cliffs of my ribs with hisfingers and contemplates jumping off,i leave his bruises of purple milky waysat home on my skinand push us both over theedge-hold me tighter, cause i'd rather be a bag of bleeding veinsthan nothing at all
Porcelain DollHello,little porcelain doll.It's terrible to see you again.It's the two of ushere in this dark roomStop analyzing me.I'm looking at your flaws tooIf I were to reach outand touch your smooth surfacewould you feel warmto me?Oh little porcelain doll,trapped in a glass boxforced to watch the worldpass you by; never sparing youa glanceThere are cracks trailingup and downyour arms and thighsWhy are you breakingyourself again?I would help to piece youback together butyou would ratherfall apart.Silly little porcelain dollCan't you see I'm damaged too?It's just the two of ushere in this lonesome room,I've got timeour relationship should improveIf I were to reach outand offer you my handwould you returnto me?My dear porcelain doll,we are far from perfectbut life and beautyis something we want to learn about.If I were to love youas you love methen do I have a chance?If I broke the glassand set you freewould you be the betterhalf of me>(though I'd r
.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.