Beautiful-Literature

So long ago, I had a wall around my heart when it was engulfed in shadow and feeling had torn it apart but through time this wall has begun to crumble letting go no longer a crime what lies outside, isn't lethal for the first time I am exposed there's no one here to hurt me but theres no love proposed so I'll wait, for a heart not icy What lies ahead will I find love again or more pain that I dread only to hurt me again

Thirteen Angels stand around my bed, Holding sacred space. Pearls glow in a dark blue sky ceiling. They watch me. They feel it. Healing crystalline waters breathe through me. Healing twinkling waters flow within me. Healing waters wash over me, cracking my heart and melting the mask. Secrets rain down my face. It's safe to rain now. I'm from the stars. I am the stars. I'm from the stars. I am the stars.

do dogs smile all the saturday nights,can't compare to that one night which I don't even remember what day it was. -me,a cheerful plonker,stumbled upon something of a novelty,or it only was a novelty for my opinion back then. a novelty like somewhat of a sea mermaid that lures them unaware   seamen to the unknown seas,uses their horny minds which just want to fuck a shiny scaly ass,then drowns them,at least they die somewhat happy. I'm sad enough that I'm still alive and pretty miserable at the moment. but at the time,You were a kindness,and I was a stranger to kindness. you took two pictures of me,one as I was sipping beer from m

Describe Your Life. Awake Arise, And appear. From your pre-destined slumber. Life's lottery has selected your number. Live, Laugh And love. Your way through this world. These feelings can't be bought nor sold. Struggle, Stress And survive. Through the hardships and pain. These feelings have proven impossible to tame. Deteriorate, Disintegrate And die. Every story must have an end. Life is one process which is impossible to extend. There are countless words to describe your life. Living is something you cannot experience twice. Make mistakes, learn from them and  prosper. We are all apart of an ever changing r

My Ambitions. People tell me I have talent. And my attempts at poetry are noble and valiant. I want my words to leave a mark on this earth. I write for myself, to give me some sort of worth. I still think anyone is capable doing I what I do. Paint the same or an even better image of the one I just drew. I've been accepted by a few, but rejected by many. This life is perpetual and the strain is getting heavy. I write for you, as well as for me. I write from my heart, to set my mind free. A man who writes poetry isn't the epitome of masculinity. I had to disregard the stereotype and over come the humility. My writing is all I have

The din of background noise drowned out, by the roaring of your stone presence, so close, soaking though everything making all decrepitude new and infinite.

Taking Things to Heart. Have you ever had the same problem critics? Telling you your faults, forcing you to admit it? Analysing your work till the point you wish you never did it? Then forming and basing judgements on their observations. Criticisms are hard to accept regardless of the relation. Your first natural instinct is to defend your work through conversation. It's not that their criticisms are not valid. Sometimes I just take it as their refusing my talent. This causes me to feel less confident and slightly off balance. I respect any opinion that anyone has to offer. Sometimes I just take it as if I'm being told of by my mo