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Random First Lines: a series of Letters for each day- something between a short story and a poetry » Read
A poem about my first true love and how much of an impact it had on my life even to this day. I hope he is doing well and I wish him the best. I am happy for him and for his wife and children even if he thinks it's just a lie. I have always wanted him to be happy, with or without me and that's...
By Lady Deva
A poem about the deity Yog-Sothoth.
By Stacy Fae
What's your story?
A girl moves forwards towards her future.
Short Story | Updated May 11, 2014 | Reads: 10 | Comments: 1 | Likes: 2
Darkness is a form of loneliness. Loneliness is a form of darkness. Those are the words that swim furiously around my head while I stand in this dark, empty room filled with blood-red doors all around me. Those words cover up the truth which are the real words that are swimming around my head....
Randy is afraid to go out at night.
This is the worlds shortest horror story by my opinion. Like, Comment And Fan. I have more stuff coming up.
Its cold. Inside and Outside. The doors are shut. The people. The bird. The sword. on ice.
By Rambunctious Art
I wrote this poem not too long ago! It is very different than my normal poems, because it is with a stronger vocabulary! But I hope you like it all the same!
a tribute poem to Ray Manzarek and Jim Morrison of The Doors.
Adam is your everyday guy who is about to get married to the love of his life. He is ready to close his current door and open a new one with his high school sweetheart Elizabeth. Not knowing the dark and gory truth that lurks behind the new door. Will he be able to handle the sinister truth that...
Living your ife in secrecy and the guilt feelings from what try to keep secret
Poetry | Updated Aug 16, 2013 | Reads: 3 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0
All of whats expected from me is simple.
i know its silly, but I've lost it.
maybe for the moment or what if forever.
that thing, that everyone's loves me for, dissipated.
vanished, like i haven't been trying to hold on so tight my knuckles turn white.
a mess, is how anyone who knew me like i...
A poem about my recurring nightmare.
By Juli Monat
The world around me.
Poetry | Updated Apr 1, 2013 | Reads: 0 | Comments: 0 | Likes: 0