An artist (revised)An artist (revised) by Koratoshisfriend
Staring blankly at a white sheet of paper
Can truly be an artist’s worst nightmare
An artist’s duty as its shaper
Their thoughts up in the clouds somewhere
Looking for bits of inspiration
Their eyes searching the skies
Nothing can break their concentration
Nothing can blow out the passion in their eyes
Being an artist does not always mean you are skilled
You do not need to be Picasso or Bach
It means you want to see your dream fulfilled
And that you will never give in to an art block
Love Me StrangerLove Me StrangerLove Me Stranger by DraganTheMighty
Love Me Stranger, I See You,
Love Me Stranger, I Need You,
Love Me Stranger, I'll Leave You,
Love Me Stranger; I Know You?
WallsI abide these walls, their exquisite symmetry.Walls by blalock27
They exemplify what I am and what I'm not,
As one is incarnate and the other a wraith.
One manifestation is beyond ramparts,
While outside these gloomy partitions, well...
It doesn't matter.
I'm whatever you think I should be.
I'm hermetically sealed inside these perimeters
Of fragmented illumination and liquescent candles,
Confined within submarine boundaries
Of my own industry, so meticulously crafted
And unyielding that no one could possibly ingress.
The incontrovertible and absolute horror is
There's no way to get in, yes, yet no way to get out.
The walls are load bearing, of the very foundation;
Without them this house would crumble to dust.
Torn loveThe whip from my father lacerates thy skinTorn love by katsumoto82
I cry for thee
My silence is like death
Cold and ruthless
The whip from my father lacerates thy skin
I respect our secret
But when I look at thy back bloodied
I would like to confess all on our liaison
Tonight I am going to take care of thee
Treat thy wounds
I shall snuggle up in thy muscular arms
For me you are not a slave
It is me who am chained has you
Sorry for this being a bit late guys (and for not doing the last 2 months) but everyones lives have been a bit chaotic, as of late. Regardless! Here is the feature! We hope you like this!
The Middle of the SecondThe middle of the second is when it shifts.
My world, that is.
Going from the harmony of yellow and reds,
blues and greens,
To a mess of black and mud and grey.
The middle of the second is the end point.
The water boils,
the pencil snaps,
the fragile shatters into pieces,
hundreds and thousands.
The middle of the second is grim.
The hopeless gaze,
the empty sigh,
the sinking; falling.
The middle of the second is sometimes.
In every second of the day.
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