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Literature Text
Why do people always exclaim,
And oh so loud and frequent do they
Say that there is no good left in
The world, but how can that be?
Ah, but they do not realize something
I have recently discovered,
Something that let's me live
In solitude, and udder happiness.
You can only see the
Good of the world if you
Search for it, look past
The bad, because happiness does not lie unhidden.
Something bad will always come your way,
But as dreadful as it is,
It is only an opportunity to find
Something new, and something better within.
And oh so loud and frequent do they
Say that there is no good left in
The world, but how can that be?
Ah, but they do not realize something
I have recently discovered,
Something that let's me live
In solitude, and udder happiness.
You can only see the
Good of the world if you
Search for it, look past
The bad, because happiness does not lie unhidden.
Something bad will always come your way,
But as dreadful as it is,
It is only an opportunity to find
Something new, and something better within.
Literature
Her Last Day
She walked home on a normal afternoon.
Hadn't seen her sister since she ran away from school.
They'd mocked her once again.
The words never seemed to end.
That's when she saw her, and the girl's heart nearly stopped.
Her big sister hung in the stairwell on a rope drawn taught.
Life long departed, eyes glazed and empty.
The little girl stared unable to breathe.
Books fell from her dead fingers and she went to her knees.
Tears ran down her cheeks and she couldn't halt the screams.
Those words had been the last straw.
Scars had been torn open and left raw.
She decided this was the last time,
They'd have the power to destroy her life
Literature
Me Against the World
Lost within a world of apathy;
such agony.
Practically sitting on the edge of tragedy;
such a catastrophe.
My mentality is such a calamity;
the audacity of that analogy.
Elaborately I express my insanity;
with such brutality.
And yet, ever so casually,
I sit on the fence of normality;
the formality of my mortality.
Yet again, it's all in vanity.
My life is such a travesty;
but still, such a fantasy.
My life perhaps is a rhapsody;
and I will patently, so valiantly,
live my life with majasty;
amnesty, lazily and happily.
Literature
i only asked for the end of the world
"i found shadows in the sun again,"
i looked at her
with a gleam of sarcasm in my eyes,
as she looked down with wind in her hair.
the night looked lovely on her.
the purple of post-nebula progression
it made her eyes look electric blue
though they were a soft green.
"i said, i found shadows on the sun again."
she'd never look up unless
she couldn't breathe and needed
to pull a sigh out of her butterfly winged lungs.
and that bothered me;
- she'd refuse to breathe
only because the air seemed
un-enough.
she'd give up so easily sometimes.
i run out of pretty things to say
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Comments16
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Believe "udder" should be utter.
Good poem though. And pretty true. What I seem to have found is that the amount of good and bad in the world, depends on which you look for. If you look for how full of problems the world is, you will easily swamp yourself with it, but if you look for the good, you find just as much of it.
Good poem though. And pretty true. What I seem to have found is that the amount of good and bad in the world, depends on which you look for. If you look for how full of problems the world is, you will easily swamp yourself with it, but if you look for the good, you find just as much of it.