UnknownWriters

Shadows consume me, Take my throat in their grip Twisting it till No breath is left In me. The light is growing In front of my face, Right within my reach. Voices speak mutterings Of words I can't hear Anymore. A machine's beeping is faint, Slowing down with every Excruciating minute Until the room Is silent.

 Never in my life have I seen a girl with hair like that. I stared at the back of the head of the girl sitting in front of me. Sure, I've seen red heads before, but this girl's hair was red, like the color of an apple and a sunset meshed together. The red cascaded down the length of her back, twisting in and out of every wave and curl. Without any clips or barrettes to hold it down, it fell loose, dancing every which way when a hand would flip it across her shoulder. What am I doing? I don't even know this girl. If she suddenly turned around and saw me gawking at her, she would probably smack me across the face and classify me as a stalker

So this is my consequence. I loved you, trusted you, Cared about you. And what do I get? A lie. A lie that you thought was Small to tell, But it grew as you Told me lie after lie About how pretty I was And how much you loved me, When all you cared about Was what hid under my shirt. I thought it was okay; That's what you said, I didn't know any better. Something about the cold of Your hands against my skin Felt dirty and wrong. But I was afraid of Losing you If I said No.

I wish you knew the real me. She's not what you see on the outside. She hides behind the make-up And straightened hair And outrageous clothes. She's not what's On the outside. She's sweet and polite, A little crazy, A little clumsy. She wears her heart on her sleeve, And covers up the scrars From stitching it back together. She cries whn no one's looking, But stuffs the tissue Back into herpocket Before you glimpse A tear left on her cheek. All you see is a facade. You would never notice The sad smile In the bathroom mirror.

It's all about the thoughts You jot down Onto the page. Line after thin blue line Filled with The words that Only you know. Each letter bleeds Through the page, Inks of back, blue, and red Dripping onto your hands, The markings of a writwe. You are a Writer.

                "Could you watch the girls?" my sister-in-law asked me when I picked up the phone, referring to my two nieces. I wasn't certified and had no experience, but still, it was a great opportunity. "Sure." I said. I started babysitting last year when I had just turned fourteen. I didn't plan to start until that summer after I was certified.  But my plans were changed with that one phone call.  My brother picked me up minutes later and drove me to his house. Four-year-old Meredith was occupied with a coloring book and The Backyardigans. Two-year-old Chloe was upstairs asleep in her crib. She would sleep for a few hours, but if s

I waste my breath, To tell you my final words. As i stab this knife deeper, I whisper breathlessly. Yeah it's your fault, Just so you know. I love you, Yet you leave me to die alone. I guess I'm gone, Letting the blade sink in. I still want to say one thing; I love you still.

Words flow through my pencil, Like words flow from your mouth. Black and white on paper, I never had a doubt That words aren't simply letters, And poems aren't simply rhyme. Words can be expression If you take the time, To see the greater point Of the movement of your pen And wait until the ink Starts to flow again. The poem is my succession And the pencil is my life. The words are never wasted On determined strife. They're based on the people That inspire those to dream. Words are more than words, As little as they seem.

Save me from this nightmare, Wake me from this dreaded slumber. Keep me away from my dreams, That keep me awake. What if this isn't a dream? If this was realitly. Death would seem so much better, Then the world I am in. But this is just a nightmare, Isn't it? No, It's my life, and i can't wake up.

Chapter 29 Gio would awake to the noise of claw on rock, and if he lifted his head to look, he would see Zarian standing near the entrance, his cloak being gently whipped by the wind as he stared out through the slight storm. He was waiting paitiently for his family to awaken so he could explain the situation. Hopefully, his mate would allow him to see to his sister. As it was, he could see her near a human town, looking around for Mew and Darkrai without much success, and rightfully so, getting more and more frustrated as the minutes ticked by... Pixy still lay next to Gio, snoring peacfully, but she seemed to have picked up a "visitor" du