Guess Who Just Learned Two Italian Cuss Words?

Trust made of dust and bones

Trust is like a chalkboard.

Covered in words and phrases and actions, Written with a chalk made of dust and bones.

It's easy to erase, But the chalk is so hard to make.

I always used to wonder, Why didn't we use ink instead?

Write it on paper? With the ink made of blood.

Its more permanent, It lasts longer.

I think I understand why we use chalk now.

Any mistake made in ink can never be fixed.

It can be hidden, It can be covered with more ink,

But it's always there.

We have to work hard to make the chalk, When ink is so easy.

We have to treasure the chalk, But we don't worry about the mistakes made in it.

The ink made of blood is far to easy to make, Far to easy to write with, Far too easy to mess up.

When you mess up once, It can never be fixed.

With chalk, You can just wipe it away.

Spilled ink is forever ink astray.

a thing that bleeds

Blood.

The liquid that flows within us, Proving that we live.

We are things and creatures that bleed. So that must mean that we are the things that live.

You have a beating heart, And blood rushing through your veins.

You must be a thing that lives.

You must be human, Or something along that road.

I had the same.

The blood that once flowed through my veins, Are now rubies upon my brow.

I sacrificed so much to get where I am, I've bled and given all I have.

Am I still alive? Am I even human anymore?

You with your heart of gold that bleeds, Tell me, Am I still me?

When I am no longer a thing that bleeds.

just got hit with a wave of pain

L I f e s u c k s

thinking

ive been thinking a lot lately.

Am I the reason someone is sad?

What happens after you die?

Does anyone look up to me?

Does somebody use me as a bad example for their kids?

I'm I the hero in somebody's story? Am I the villain?

What would the world be like if I didn't exist?

...

Anyways let's move on.

Ive also been thinking

Death is like rain.

You never think about it until you experience it.

The first time you are made aware of it (be it in a movie, a book, a show or real life) you can't stop thinking about it.

It creeps up on you.

You catch yourself thinking

Is it gonna rain today? (Is someone going to die)

Am I gonna get caught in it? (Am I going to die)

Is my friend going to get caught in the rain? (Is my friend going to die)

Is it going to sprinkle or pour? (Will it be painful or painless?)

And we may be able to move on after it happens, and go about our life, but it's always there.

Looming in the background.

And it will remind you of the fact.

You wish it wouldn't happen again, but you know it will.

At least the rainbows pretty. (At least they are at peace now.)

gnome sighing

Follow for more updates on the newly dubbed 'gnome in the home'

The Crown of The Unwilling

My crown is one forged of blood.

Blood of innocents, criminals, lives that could not be saved, It is blood all the same.

However,

This crown forged of blood, Was not forged by me.

Rather it was forged, Then forced upon me.I

could not stop it.

They said

"You alone are worthy of this honor, Now you must earn it."

I thought it was to help, That I would be given a title to live up to. Something like a hero.

I was wrong.

They sent me to kill.

To destroy.

They told me

"These people whom you must end, Are terrible, Horrible, Monsters that would kill us all if left unchecked."

And like a fool, I believed them.

They told me I was a savior, Stopping the world's end!

They told me,

"This is your reward"

As they drained me of myself, My humanity.

My innocence.

When I next awoke, A crown lay on my head.

I was propped on a throne, Unable to move, Unable to speak, Unable to do anything at all.

Like a statue.

I was trapped there, Until she came along.

She did not need to hear my voice or words, To know I was unwilling upon this throne.

She saved me, She ripped the crown from my head, And cradled my limp body in her arms.

She told me

"You'll be alright, I promise it.

You won't die in such suffering, You will not die here."

And I stared at her, Tears rolling down my cheeks.

I was free.

I hope she does not blame herself.

I hope she doesn't mourn.

She could not look at me, She just hugged me, As tight as she could.

I took my final breath,

And the quietest,

"Thank you"

Brokenly echoed in the hall.

She gave me my freedom.

Now,I just hope she lets me go.

its shedding season

You all know what that means

It's time to get out the loom.

Hopefully this year my skin actually fits

garden gnomes work as projectiles right?

Asking for a friend

:)

I am so sick and tired of being the second choice.

I talk to you and introduce you to my friends! And what do you do?

You only ever talk to them.

But when you have a class with me and not them, I suddenly become your friend again!

You leave me out of group projects.

Even when theys said 2 or more.

Nobody ever chooses me.

I am the consolation prize.

Now you may say "I would choose you!"

But you haven't.

And you wont.

Stop with the lies please,

It makes me hope.