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Literature Text
Everyone cherishes
The small things in life.
A hug, a glance,
A kiss, a chance,
A thought, a dream,
A love, a belief.
It's theses small,
Probably insignificant things,
That are truly the most significant.
Everyone remembers
These things,
Because the mean the most.
Our song, our dance,
Our kiss, our eyes,
The looks we give,
The words we take,
Our love we share.
So remember this,
As you take in and enjoy,
The small things in life.
The small things in life.
A hug, a glance,
A kiss, a chance,
A thought, a dream,
A love, a belief.
It's theses small,
Probably insignificant things,
That are truly the most significant.
Everyone remembers
These things,
Because the mean the most.
Our song, our dance,
Our kiss, our eyes,
The looks we give,
The words we take,
Our love we share.
So remember this,
As you take in and enjoy,
The small things in life.
Literature
10 Cuts - Story
As she pulled out her oh-so-familiar box of razorblades and other sharp objects, she felt a tear escape from her eye and slither down her face. She couldnt believe she had sunk so low in life. She couldnt believe she hated herself because of love. She grabbed her sharpest razorblade and slid it with force across her arm. "One is for how many times I gave myself to you..." Another tear fell from her eye. She cut herself again. "Two is for the kisses I thought meant something too." She kept the repitition of the blade against her skin. "Three is for the presents and the gifts you got from me. Four is for all that times I said 'Its meant to be'.
Literature
Cutter
'what are you scared of?'
she was too pale to be held against the sun: so she leans against it until you can't see her face.
her eyes were chalk-smudges on blackboards, blurred against a backdrop of white-washed walls. her outline was all fade-out and lace, as white as winter could be.
her words were quiet like stains are, clinging to a curtain in the window. just trying to blend into the pattern, or at least not become part of it.
and when she breathes her chest swells with see-through lungs--hoping that if you focus, you'll see right through her glass skin. after all, she's just a smudge of the wrong varnish in your eyes.
she shudders
Literature
Suicidal
Blood flows from our wrists,
Making our hands turn into fists.
We only feel the pain and sorrow,
Have we given up hope for a better tomorrow?
The rope is hanging from the ceiling,
Helping us end that miserable feeling.
The pills are scattered across the floor,
Maybe we need to swallow just one more?
Others might refuse to see the cruelty of life,
While others try to end it by the knife.
Trying to get out of this cruel dream,
Sometimes all we can do is scream.
There are others like you out there,
You might not yet know where.
But they try to overcome it,
That's something not all will admit.
Every one of us needs a helping hand,
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Inspired by a Spanish song ~ Prince Royce - Las Cosas Pequeñas ~
© 2013 - 2024 Naty1320
Comments12
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Sweet and simple and poignant.