Solitude...

Ruqayyah Jkh

It was about a man who created a creature from body parts and stitched it together... It was about a boy who relied on his imaginary friend... It was about the girlfriend who brought back her boyfriend from the dead.. It was about the masked man who avenged the death of his parents.. It was about the teacher who got herself lost in her job.. It was about the kid who took care of the strays.. As human beings.. As social animals.. We all seek warmth from another human being.. We all want company.. Those who say they do not are lying to themselves.. Solitude it is.. That destroys us in the end.. Stuck with our own thoughts.. Own pain.. Burning.. We think keeping ourselves busy will make it better.. Not think about it.. Not feel it.. Moving pass it.. Until when?.. We might shut off the pain.. What about the memories.. The feelings..

2018-11-18 12:43:37

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Dear brother.. I'm torn... To be loved... Butterfly she is...

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Ольга Тизьо

@tuzio_

Thomas Agud

@thomasagud

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Question 1?/Вопрос 1?

shadowlinxxx morgan

The girl that questions everything,is a girl that needs many answers.She wanders the earth trying to find the person that can answer her many queries.Everthing she writes has a hidden question that makes her heart ache and her head hurt.She spends days writing sad story's that she forgets her sad life.Shes in a painful story that never ends,she's in a story that writes itself.The pages in the book were filled ever so easy,because her heart wrote it for her.She spent her life being afraid,that's what made it so boring.Finding her passion was easy,but fulfilling it was the hardest part of all.Her writing may be boring and sad,but it's what keeps her sane. "She had all the questions in the word,and he had all the answers." Lillian xx

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Приходи (RU-UA)

Ай

Черничные пироги, молоко с мёдом. Приходи. Почитаю тебе стихи и раны замажу йодом. Буду исцелять поэтапно все твои трещинки и порезы, даже в твоё заледеневшее сердце, поверь мне, — смело полезу. Повір! Залізу без страху. Без жалю, не боячись. Бо наше розпалене вогнище змушує бути хоч чимось. І тільки не хвилюйся — ми не розчинимось. Ні одне у одному, ні у часі. Мы снова столкнёмся, неспособные противостоять этой связи. Истощенные, но в друг друге, нашедшие дом. Якщо не перше життя, то і не перший том. Не перший різновид мов у моїх віршах. Не найдёшь меня в жизни? Отыщешь во снах. За той дверью, где я нам в пирог добавляю чернику. Приходи. Мне одной без тебя здесь ужасно дико.

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