Poem rumor. wen 12 dec 2018
By aavatar
my words to you
my words to you
I hear there's a rumor
it spreads like a tumor
you treat me like I am a traitor
Or an avenging Northern Raider
Is this fate
To always feel this Irate
a tumor that fills up all available
space
And making its bases
and takes all available
Resources.
Without care for the recourse
A rumor takes up all the space
Putting truth to waste
Words untrue
Leave it to you
This is what you achieve
When
You just believed
it before
You even heard it
There is always more
Anther time trying to hit a score
You believe, that is what i am
That my whole life is a scam
I
By The Endless Sea by Fish-Head-The-3rd, literature
Literature
By The Endless Sea
By the endless sea
Ariel Gonzalez
Washed up by the righteous sea.
Lonely in the icy breath of the world.
A light coming through
the gray hue.
Heavy with dew
Lights in the gray
a miserable day,
looks good from far away.
Never save,
never safe
my heart cries.
The copper light sits near me,
and looks over the dark sea.
'Are you okay?' I say
'why do you ask?'
' because no one is happy here.'
'Then why are you here?'
I cry, it ripping from my chest
' I AM wounded
I'm wounded
I can't leave.'
' if you can't leave and
I'm so tired,
can I sit by your light?'
My heart glows,
'if you keep your light a glow as well'
Never safe
A walk down the street
By AAvatar
Take me to the nightmare city. feathers
fly and birds die.
Lost are we who come to the nightmare city.
It's a pity, walking familiars streets but
never finding Home. Seeing
oldest places, the road with your safest pace.
For it never to be there
Some sing a ditty
Some think they were witty
It's a pity
But all in the nightmare city
We all stay,
And
Dream of something different.
Nightmare city is full of butterfly with razor
wings.
And all of these dangerous things.
But nightmare city is home to me
So let me be.
Wrote: Monday 19 november 2018
Record: Friday 23 november 2018
Harvest by Aavatar
Harvest has come.
Winter will roam.
The last of the Harvest is ripened
and
All that remaining Fades
to
Yellow
Orange
Red.
Either to burn as Ash for the new year
or
To be buried under the snow, becoming mulch.
Joy before winter awakes.
Now we feast before the overflow is over
and too eat what will not keep.
Store it away for hard months until
The earth is ready to bloom again.
Now I can only taste the chill on the wind,
The world quieter since the birds who Fly Away
and small Critters that find little cozy corners to
sleep through the worst