Bish bosh.for now
lauren.
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Lost.Your love left its mark in my heart and throughout Of your beauty as the rain did relieve our drought Of your eyes which glisten as pearls of the sea Many who dream of you they wish to be. As perfect in shape aswell as in trate Wishing the world would change mine and your fate Which brought us together and tore us apart And tore down your mark which had lain on my heart I remember your hair as it gleamed in the sun You laugh, memories of our youthful fun And in times of great sadness, when all had seemed black The last touch of your arm which had laid round my backLost.
Of yo
by ~sweetrock
Albion.I wish for no torrent of lament Only the drive of the albion dream. To persue an ancient myth Shrouded beneath the depths of modern society.Albion.
I wish for a freedom, where injustice is no more frowned upon , than the very politicians words,
Which fall as merry men on a quest.
Where i , the little girl locked inside, cry for curtious handouts. Shrouded in filth, a coating on sincerity marked with the sickly scent of uncertainty.
Tunes drift, as boats eerily do wander on a wavering tide.
It is this tide , which clings dearly to my heart as algae on a rotting sea. Hard to
by ~sweetrock
HopeHope is all i have The hope that it will happen I appear irritable , excited A flicker And for a moment my heart elates My true desire wells up in my body Aching , itching until the deed is doneHope
Then with regret
My mind turns over Each time the voice, shouting , screaming But the thrill , excitement overides me I lay helpless, once again agitated until i hear the word to which my heart flutters.
by ~sweetrock
Poison 8The small girl reached out for a piece of bread, to be met by a hand who lightly tapped hers, in slight warning. The little girl’s features were that of an angel. The typical blond, bouncy curls and piercing blue eyes, which became more piercing with tears or any form of emotion the little girl showed. The woman whom was happily cutting slice, upon slice, of a thick dough , smiled gently towards the little girl. ‘Sophie’ she cried ‘ your tea will be ready soon, you know that’ ‘Yes’ she said, hiding her flushed cheeks ‘but sister is always late’ Since she could remember, Sophie had adopted this babyish tone of voice. It was aPoison 8
by ~sweetrock
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Devious Info
- Interests: Writing poetry.
- Favourite band or musician: The libertines. Pete and Carl.
- Favourite poet or writer: Peter doherty.
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I'll take a look at your poetry ... I do know why you admire Mr. Doherty
XOXO
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"I believe whatever doesn't kill you simply makes you ... Stranger." The Joker, The Dark Knigt
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www.matthewburgess.net
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... Murf?
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Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and finally for money.
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basically the music forum should be a place more hostile than the surface [of] the sun. ~jimmyjazz13
Homo sapiens non urinat in ventum.
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* wisest is she who knows she does not know *
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---------> teh definition of teh -1337- <---------
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