Cold, tasteless, frozen liquid. I stand here sucking on a piece of ice.
The air stings my nostrils. Each breath feels like fire.
My face is sprayed from the river, then it stops, blocked by something.
Over the sound of rushing water, I hear a voice: "What are you doing here?"
The color of fire.
Eager to spread and travel, giving warmth but sometimes causing destruction. The marks of fights are visible on his gloves. There's no new experience he's not up for. If you get on his good side, you'll never be cold.
The color of citrus.
Refreshment after a long, boring time. A bandana is wrapped around his head. You either hate him or love him, there's no in between. He's bold, like the taste of an orange.
The color of autumn leaves.
Departing from the tree, which has stood there for countless years. Taken by the wind to new places, new adventures. He will be your downfall.
Motionless in the bed, I lay, the sounds of breathing all around me. My eyes are fixed on the window.
Through the darkness, a beam from this building reaches. The windows perpendicular to mine: some still have lights on, some have gone out. From here I can see the city, my school, all the places I love.
But this place, right now, this is the best place. Usually, I'm looking at the world, looking at buildings and places, and wishing I could be there instead of here. So it's strange to finally be able to look out the window, and feel content where I am.
Yes, you've left me, but I do like it here.
Who are we when no one is watching?
Christmas's cheeks are wet. His hands shake; his eyes leak. His mind's a mess; his face is weak. Outside is home; inside is bleak. The sun has already set.
We are vulnerable.
Who are we when no one is watching?
Cornflower clings to the fabric. Though faded, it still has his smell. The more he gave, the harder she fell. Where this will go, only time can tell; She's ready to unleash havoc.
We are unmasked.
Who are we when no one is watching?
Artist whispers a swear. She flips you off; she takes a sip: so bitter - can't finish more than a drip. She's wiping off her moistened lip. The guilt is too much to bear.
We are monsters.
Who are we when no one is watching?
Myself, I sing along. No need to be quiet: there's no one to hear. My voice cracks - no judgement to fear. Out the window I constantly peer, ready to stop the song.
We are talented.
The color of blood.
Pumping through their veins, because they are alive. No matter how much of it spills, they will always be alive. A bandage covers their cheek. They have seen too much of it.
The color of fierceness.
Driving them to continue. Their eyes are set on their goal and nothing can stop them, save for getting too bored. A stick waves through the air. They've been given strength, and they're going to use it.
The color of the sky as the sun rises and sets every morning and night.
It can't be stopped. Every day is new. The sun is always there, never disappointing.
what if a bust of a trust of a truth opens the chasm of daring; into the blackness shoves the puppet and gives extra flair to the caring? Pop dread to pride and fear to hope (pop know to suspicion:pop never to would) --when prison's reached and sight restored, the single secret will still be invisible
what if a tad of a sad truth stays in precious words in books of old: in people who gather to listen and sing and whispered pleas that no one's told? Pop fine to crime;pop cause to effect (pop secure to watched and evil to wreck) --whose love is pure, acts are help, it's they shall thrive when all is done
what if a stop of a speed of a need causes connections to unwind, cuts the wires, one by one and liberates guilty and blind? Pop stranger to friend and friend to foe (pop must to could: pop can't to won't) --my jail's a place of incredible fun; the more we fear, the most we persist
I will spend the rest of my day Stuck in this hourless corridor, No clock to tell the minutes by, Every second a wasted one.
And now the script remains unplayed -- A joyful scene now turns to horror; The audience won't laugh, won't cry, Won't see again this morning's gun.
Millions of phantoms float by my eyes Through this graveyard of past plans failed My spirits lifting, then falling with each Every time, getting farther from heaven
Then suddenly, I see the sky Falling, crashing, beginning to hail, Distracted ears that a voice can't reach Are tortured until four eleven.
As I embark on this journey today, I need to set my eyes on You, my lifeline. The world’s beginning to crumble like clay As I embark on this journey today. The plot’s upon us and time slips away; Beware that soon there will be no more “next time.” As I embark on this journey today, I need to set my eyes on You, my lifeline.
(sorry idk how well it fits the prompt)
Guilty lived half the time in a world (where surfacing not underneath plans unfurl) May blank november january She laughed her some she cared her none.
Girls and boys (both covered and veiled) Cares for guilty never prevailed They worked their please they earned their thank Morning noon five blank
Visibles guessed (or so she thought And forward they moved as back they forgot November january may blank) That blind allowed her worse by worse
Week by day and talk by word She watched his saw he listened her heard Fear by joy and orange by red Guilty’s crimes were none to him
Visibles “loved” their invisibles Blessed their faces and cursed their backs (come stay leave and then)they Laughed their others they faked their sight
Five blank morning noon (and in the fight only the joy can aid Against visibles looking back on the path Where surfacing not underneath plans unfurled)
Three months guilty left i guess (and blind went out to get new things) Busy folk returned them to one place Hour by hour and speak by speak
Closer by closer and year by year And shot by shot they ease their fear Blind and guilty room by september Time by wait and please by yes.
Girls and boys (both script and play) Blank november january may Earned their work and filled their bank Morning noon five blank
I know you think it's no big deal: A little bit once in a while, But don't forget why you conceal What has landed you in your trial.
Don't know if you realize the danger You're putting yourself into. He is no better than a stranger; I don't mean to me, but to you.
I know you know I get explosive When you try to mention desire; You don't see your habit's corrosive - You don't see it's causing the fire.
I don't care if it seems appealing. Is it worth causing all of us pain? In these last couple months we've been healing, But the scars on our hearts still remain.
