Satin1011

Bianca looked doubtfully at her reflection in the mirror suspecting that she had “put on a little weight”, using her own words. She started he inspection poking and pinching her soft potbelly, clearly visible even under her sweater. She was a beautiful Italian girl with long and smooth black hair, 5’6’’ tall and weighing about 120 pounds. Or, at least, that had been her weight until the beginning of December. During the Christmas month she had been eating more than usual and stopped going to the gym at all. She had never had a good metabolism and thus her weight had almost immediately started increasing. She had not

Sabrina was really furious that night. Every inch of her 5’7’’ body was quivering with frustration and rage. She was a slender redhead with long toned legs and a nice round booty, thanks to her many years of dancing; her upper half was not unpleasant either: just above a flat belly there were two nice C cup breasts and an oval face covered with freckles with two sparkling green emerald eyes. She carried her 120 pounds wonderfully and she was well aware of it. “How could they do this to me!” she nearly yelled, pacing hysterically through the corridors in the empty house she had rented for the holidays with her girlfri

The boar was intense, the boar was unrefined. It ran, it fought, it was hard and true. But it stuck to it's heart, never changed it's mind. Always set on the same thing, tender through and through. The swan was gentle, the swan was small. It flew, it swam, it was kind and meek. But it was nervous and scared, not feeling whole at all. Always the fill for the gap in it's heart it would seek. The boar set it's mind to a journey, long and hard. It searched a lifetime, turning over stones of fools gold. It was worried and doubting, but not at all scarred. Never giving up on the brilliance it would soon behold. The swan flew through lif

 Around 21 years ago in Japan there was a city. This city seemed normal, like the others, but it had something different about it; it was plagued by two resident demons and two wandering shinigami (Death god). Unfortunately for the citizens of this city, the shinigami and demons did what one would expect them to do; murder people. Although once in a while someone managed to wound one of them, the creatures always got away with their malicious deeds. And like many creatures of this sort, most people thought of them as just a myth to frighten children. “Don’t stay up past dark or the demons will get you!” People would tell

I am the shadow, and I am the light I am the sunlight, and I am the night I am the battle, and I am the fighter I am the water, and I am the fire I am a raindrop just ready to fall I am the world, and yet… No one at all.

I am a missing piece. Something that someone needs. But at the same time, I feel so incomplete. I’ve wandered way too far, wondered for far too long Am I a missing piece? Or a piece that won’t belong? Is it possible I’m damaged and not missing at all? That I’m just as dysfunctional as everybody else? Pretending to be perfect never softened a single fall. But neither did admitting that you’re broken and flawed. A broken missing piece. Is that all I’m meant to be? There is no master plan that includes the likes of me. Being all alone, it’s a hurt that will not cease. A hundred thousand years from now

Counting All The Voices: How many voices choose to speak; a debate within my head.        As I lie awake, counting cracks, on the wall above my bed. I seem to think of random colours and things you've never seen.        But I don't like to hear the ugly voices, some are rather mean! Though I suppose we are a loving family and thus I must accept        That when it comes to stashing bodies, we are most adept... Best of luck detective, you have three days to find her (^_^)/ -Chen Yuan Wen, 8th February 2013

To Save Your Life Heroes are hard to come by Especially in this day and age Because of you- I am still alive Hail, the vanquisher of pain - I fought as long as I could have But I sank into the weakness below And I felt my sorrow's wrath The helplessness took over My fists let go Of the resistance I fell from hope The light faded in the distance It was all a dream A wish... A simple false belief I hid... - Hands dangled frantically / Tears dripped endlessly I needed a hero to save me / I yearned to be set free - A hand reached out Held tight... I was finally found Relieved sigh... I rose back to grace And the darkness brightened The

Do you know what it feels like? To feel something, but... be unable to express what it is; to be silent; to fight it alone. I know how much it hurts, but I don't know how to show it. Poetry used to be my refuge, a place where I could be alone - express all my emotions, without being judged. I'm losing it. I can't connect to poetry. Everything sounds so stupid... Everything I write sounds stupid. I have to erase all my feelings, because they don't sound right. The words aren't real. They don't show what I feel And maybe this will be the last. Maybe I'm gone: lost of all emotions. I'm truly alone... I used to have poetry. Now I have not

Memories. The thought worries me, that I might just forget it all. I'll forget the spontaneous times where I would feel happy, for really... no apparent reason. I'm so scared, that I'll wake up and not remember anything, and even if it means losing the depressing memories - I can't bear to let it go. It shaped me into what I am today, believe it or not - all those sad, depressing memories. And if I were to age and perhaps just forget it all... I would lose myself. What would I do? Who would I be? Oh, sweet and painful memories - please, never leave me.