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Literature Text
The moon's envious glow,
is nothing more, than the suns bright rays
shinning back from a gray face.
The loneliest person in the world,
she can only reflect what others disperse
and never show her own light.
Sometimes though, she gets her desires
to change the light she reflects
and becomes orange or red.
It never lasts though.
She finds solace in her reflection
to know that she is actually there,
and to feed what little pride she has.
And the moon sits alone
never to have company.
Only her mournful shriek her only sound.
She can never be the one
who provides light and comfort.
The most she can do
is give off a little reflected light,
that isn't even her own.
Everyone loves the sun,
that warm, life birthing parent.
And everyone ignores,
the pale envious moon.
Who wants nothing more
than to be loved.
is nothing more, than the suns bright rays
shinning back from a gray face.
The loneliest person in the world,
she can only reflect what others disperse
and never show her own light.
Sometimes though, she gets her desires
to change the light she reflects
and becomes orange or red.
It never lasts though.
She finds solace in her reflection
to know that she is actually there,
and to feed what little pride she has.
And the moon sits alone
never to have company.
Only her mournful shriek her only sound.
She can never be the one
who provides light and comfort.
The most she can do
is give off a little reflected light,
that isn't even her own.
Everyone loves the sun,
that warm, life birthing parent.
And everyone ignores,
the pale envious moon.
Who wants nothing more
than to be loved.
Literature
Monsters
As a kid we fear darkness
Fear the monsters that hide from us
The monsters that are cruel and heartless
Making our minds slowly become a mess
As a kid we hide from the things that frighten us
Yet we set out to find them that we must confess
That's when we find out the monsters are not real
A world without monsters, wouldn't that be ideal?
As we grow we start to fear the dark less
Sometimes we still fear the dark
That's something to which we must confess
And sometimes the dark creates in us a spark
We don't know why, and that sometimes gives us stress
When we get older and get mature,
We discover a horrible truth.
We stop lookin
Literature
Wings of Despair
Wings of Despair:
A momentary glance toward the birds in the sky;
Makes me feel like I am soaring; with a hope to fly.
But the chilling winds that wrap me, reflect the cold of this day
And the icy frost that batters me, chips me away...
It drains the very breath from me, as though the ice is locked within
I feel my hope is fading again; like a jar of captured wind...
Where once my will was strong and boundless; now it sits on broken wastes
I must admit this crushing despair, it feels as bad as it tastes....
From the moment that I acquired them, these were ugly tattered wings
They were made from my despair, and bound in bitter string
Literature
Bringer of the Night
Bringer of the Night:
Born from the kiss of a goddess
And drenched in the cauldron of lies.
He emerged as a being of entropy
Bearing the mark of flies...
His wings were made from crow-like feathers
Black as the dust of the night.
His fangs were laden with horrid infection
Made from the stone of blight.
A single bite, was poison enough
And soon they began to change...
The children loved by the lady in white
Soon they became deranged.
Powerful beings of might and magic
They soared through the moonlit sky!
They flew amongst the twinkling stars
But their gift was a burning lie...
Falling to the ground like choking insects
Crawli
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