tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84599529221876961472024-08-30T11:02:54.929-05:00Winter RainEven in the long Minnesota winters, I like to feel like it's summer. I like to imagine it's not 5 degrees below zero and the sun isn't turning in early every night. I like to pretend while I wait for the new beginning of yet another spring.VainIsMyNamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566310248023478895noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459952922187696147.post-89680959580936575512011-11-23T14:00:00.000-06:002011-11-23T14:00:48.454-06:00New Day<span style="background-color: #ea9999; color: white;">It's sad really, how things have changed so much. It's acceptable for men to be awful to their wives, and for the young girls to dress in such a way that promotes their secret promiscuity. It's normal for television icons to be famous because of bad personality, instead of any form of talent. It's expected of handsome men and beautiful women to commit adulteries under their own roofs. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: #ea9999;">What happened to those days in which a man would sweep a woman -One woman- off of her feet and into a new world of charm, love, and star-filled nights that could go on forever. Forever isn't real anymore. Till death do us part? More like, till I move on, till I find someone new, or till hardships do us go our separate ways. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #ea9999; color: white;">What has happened? </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #ea9999; color: white;">Why is it okay to be such awful creatures who don't give a damn about anyone but themselves? They feed on the sorrow and sadness of others till they're drained dry and damaged. Civility is dead. It's a constant war through tattered streets and dirty sidewalks, crowded subways and sleepless nights. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #ea9999; color: white;">Let it end tomorrow. Let it end today. At least in heaven, things won't be the same.</span>VainIsMyNamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566310248023478895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8459952922187696147.post-89912585924599074092011-11-22T18:51:00.001-06:002011-11-22T18:54:35.090-06:00Secret World<span style="color: white;">She rocks back and forth on her bed, unable to catch her breath. It won't stop bleeding. She promisedshe wouldn't, swore never again. But none of that matters now, what's done is done and there's no turning back. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">It hurts.... So bad. Too bad. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">I shouldn't have done this. This time was different, or maybe it's just been a while. I guess it has. The aching, the stinging.... It wasn't supposed to be anything new. And it wasn't, in a way. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Yeah, I've done this before, one straight cut and I'm done, no big deal. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">But this was different. They bled, and her skin cried crimson. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">The <em>g</em> is the hardest letter you know. <em>V</em>'s can pass as <em>u</em>'s, and <em>l</em>'s and <em>y</em>'s are just straight lines, connected together with a gross tone of disgust. The<em> g</em> has a curve to it... a personality of it's own.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Too bad it had to be done. A gross reminder of what she really was. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Her skin cried crimson, from the <em>ugly</em> truth within her.</span>VainIsMyNamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07566310248023478895noreply@blogger.com0