SilverFlyingIsotope

"Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do."

Through a forest, a serene forest,

Comes a fleeting blast of light.

The light whispers through the pines,

A knife of light in the seamless Cimmerian shade.



Frozen, frozen in the darkness,

Beside the obsidian pool,

The peaceful, mirror pool,

The light bound me.



Into the clearing there strode a man,

A tall, lithe man,

A panther, hunter of the night,

And in his hand a staff.



The staff, unlike anything ever beheld by the eyes of man,

Tall and thin it was, much like its owner,

And resting in a niche on the crest of the staff was

A gem of incredible size and color.



A sinister light appeared to emanate

From the very heart of the jewel,

Disturbing the midnight color of the

Pond.



The water's rocks glittered,

And began to rise from the depths,

Their power seeped through my body, my essence,

My very soul.


And the rocks came closer,

Prowling across the dried leaves,

Sinister in their purpose.

Closer and closer they advanced.


I could not think,

I could not speak or move,

I could only hope for the paralysis

To end.



The figure came closer,

His aura scorching the ground before him,

The beat of my heart,

So fleeting, so fast.

To whom it may concern,
Her head will be down on her desk, to be sure,
and you'll think shes not paying attention,
but she is, only to things more important.

To whom it may concern,
She's wrapped up in a little world,
of fights, drama, and heartbreak,
of of him messing up,
then her screwing up when she tries to repair.

To whom it may concern,
She's sorry for what she did,
and sorry that it all happened,
and wonders if she can go back to the way things were?

When he said "I Love You"
and she said "I Love You Too",
and hugged her from behind, she misses it.
Just thought She's mention it To Whom It May Concern.

She smiles at the sky
her eyes closed
red, long hair
blowing wildly in the wind.
The warm sun
dries the tears
streaming down her face,
streaks of black
drying on her cheeks.
Her body
is joyous,
completely at peace
but inside
the dark thoughts
spin her into
a black hole of despair.
She is gripping,
Grabbing,
Scratching,
for anything to hold onto.
But she continues to fall
fading into the darkness
soon to be completely lost
never to return.
She smiles at the sky
her eyes closed

We are wanderers.
We are lost.
We have no ambition.
There is no fuel for the fire.