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message 1: by Adena (new)

Adena Wright (adenaw) Just one more place to express my thoughts, whatever they may be :)

Mostly poetry, but also some other creative pieces...

Enjoy!



message 2: by Adena (new)

Adena Wright (adenaw) I had to write a short creative piece based on this poem:

(view spoiler)

It's kinda depressing, but here it is:

The world had lost its color. Blues, reds and greens drained away as the smothering grey seeped in and filled the emptiness left behind. Cold yet caressing hands choked the roses, disregarding the sharp sting of thorns, leaving nothing but broken stems behind. These unknown but familiar hands settled around my throat, so soft that I barely felt them, so secure that there was no possibility of freedom. They tightened, ever so slowly, like the gentle embrace of a loved one. There were subtle signs, soft whispers of my conscience, yet I paid them no heed. And still, the hands tightened, no longer allowing me the breath of the living world, not even a gasp of what once was. But I did not struggle. In that instant, that split second, when the end was almost upon me, the hands relinquished their grasp. I took in the air that I had been so longing for, but it did me no good. Air no longer satisfied, food nor drink nourished. The hand was no longer an enemy, but an old companion, guiding me through this existence. I live not now.


message 3: by Adena (new)

Adena Wright (adenaw) My new favorite song:

The General by Dispatch

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q3Jjlk...


message 4: by Adena (new)

Adena Wright (adenaw) Thieves

Not a whisper of wind
Nor the rustle of leaves
Disturbs the sole task
Of the silent Thieves

Not a sound do they make
As they walk empty streets
Their midnight black coats
Dragging down by their feet

Of their purpose we know nothing
Not a word do they speak
Do they see? Do they hear?
And for what do they seek?

Pale hands they do have
With a grip like a vice
Which determine your fate
With mere rolling of dice

Perfect killers, they come
To choke life from the weary
A saint-like deliverance
From existence so dreary

When chosten from many
No escape from their grasp
No pain and no suffering
As they steal your last gasp.

These are the Thieves
Some call them soul-stealers
They don't wish to maim
But to be the world's healers.


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