|...because art was born to be seen.|
|...because art was born to be seen.|
Memories Long GoneLooking through the picturesMemories Long Gone by xxDreamDealerxx
That seem so long ago.
Flipping through my memories
I no longer know.
So many faces I see,
But there's one that stands out.
It's the one I don't recognize,
The one that doesn't count.
I'm wondering where she went;
If I'd look, I'd surely see
The little girl I used to know,
The one who's no longer a part of me.
She used to be so brave,
She never did shed a tear.
She always used to behave,
She never had a single fear.
But all that came crashing down
When you came 'round here.
You dropped her so many times,
No wonder she's broken.
She cries the many words
That have not yet been spoken.
Why can't I remember?
I know I should, can't you see?
That little girl in the picture...
That little girl is me.
VoicesTrain tracks rusted over,Voices by xxDreamDealerxx
Puppets without strings.
Swords without handles,
Jack's missing springs.
Looking around the room
At all my broken things,
I smile sadly
Because we are one in the same.
We're both broken,
Inside and out.
We've cried so many tears
We can't even count.
Train tracks red with rust,
My puppets can't breathe.
Swords too dull
From Jack being cleaved.
Sharpening my sword
With tears going down my face;
I can't take this anymore,
I'll die without grace.
In one painful thrust
My sword hits my heart.
Though it can't do much more damage,
It's already been torn apart.
And as I breathe my painful last breath,
I can hear an evil laugh.
It's the other part of me,
It is my other half.
He told me to do this,
Hurt me 'till I screamed.
Did things to me
That can't even be dreamed.
Now I can't breathe,
My heart has been shred.
I can't believe I've lost my life
To a voice inside my head.
KillerFootsteps behind me;Killer by xxDreamDealerxx
Hard to think, hard to breathe.
My killer's catching up to me
With a knife he'll use to cleave.
But when I look behind me,
No one's there for me to see.
My killer's non-existent,
A person make-believe.
But when I start to walk again,
Sure that I am safe,
I hear the footsteps start again,
Starting up the chase.
But every time I look for him
No killer can be found.
I'm all alone, by myself,
With nobody else around.
My mind is playing tricks on me,
I know it's true, it has to be.
There's no other explanation
For a killer coming after me.
But when I go to bed that night,
A whisper I can hear.
A small voice I can just make out,
"Beware, we're almost here."
THE LETTEROily waves lapped at his feet.THE LETTER by SynezAnWundaz
Standing on the beach, a monotone sheet of flat white faced him; sky became sea at some indeterminate point. Between his toes sand, its shades and tones all but washed out by the dull lambency that surrounded him, crunched and whispered as he moved, flowing sinuously around his feet as he padded slowly back up from the waters edge.
Somewhere off to his left came the cry of a seagull, soon joined by another, calling back. Their conversation seemed flat however, crushed and compressed by the pervading blanket of fog that surrounded, it seemed to him, all the world.
Up by the dunes, away from the soupy ocean, Imogen watched him as he trudged towards her. Her blonde hair hung about her face and shoulders, lank and heavy with moisture. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of one hand; the other rested in her lap tightly clutching the letter.
"I wish you'd put that down."
She looked at him, her blue eyes shadowed beneath heavy lids. "It's all I h
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