Silently I stumble On roads to yet be known With nothing in my hand And below me only stone Without a destination No curfew and no rules I strive to constantly stay clever But my thoughts are thoughts of fools So loudly my dreams rumble Like lightening, storms, and thunder But when I can stop walking That, I will forever wonder
Remember those days
When we were in school And we were restless It was all quite liberating And you were tall And I was short It was all quite the same And we were young And we were dancing It was all quite extraordinaire And you were drunk And I was sober It was all quite okay anyhow And we were in love But not with each other It was all quite one-sided
If someone cries silent in the night, but see does no one ever Is for someone the dark a fright, or is no one not that clever?
Wiped a tear, from my chin you did But why the cause you never saw My words were dressed, in stress and pressure They danced Away from the mind of yours They danced Away and now hidden are they Gone
I don’t want to be the word, I want to be the meaning behind it
Some arrogance dipped in vanity, you take a sip and then proceed You claim equality, but only if you’re in lead
If there is something I really dislike, it’s when people have to remark on how “easy” or “light” a book is just because it’s written for young adults or has gained a lot of positive response from the general mass. Sure, there’s tons of bad YA literature and only a few of those books might be considered classics in a hundred years, but does it really make...
Sometimes people get tired.
Is it possible to live in the shadow of yourself?
Because I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m doing.
Every author in some way portrays himself in his works, even if it be against...– Goethe
Alone. Why am I alone? I’m not alone. I’m here. Thinking thoughts of bliss and understanding, of wisdom and thoughtfulness. With you? I guess, but I’m not sure. Are you here? Are you thinking, too? I hope you are, expanding your views to unknown measures. Like dust, like clouds, like me. Can you feel that wind against your face? It’s me, brushing my lips oh so gently,...
Heaven’s not a place that you go when you die , it’s that moment in...– The Spill Canvas (via wordstodieby)
Have you ever lost someone?
Have you ever lost someone and yelled to them beyond walls of life and death? Screamed without making a sound, as if it would make your hand grasp theirs for one last time? Cried out and prayed to whatever god that might be listening, prayed that there had been a mistake. It’s a painful thing, this yelling and screaming and crying and praying, because it helps very little, maybe...
Writers aren’t exactly people… They’re a whole bunch of people...– F. Scott Fitzgerald