Phoenix in my cola There's a phoenix in my cola,Phoenix in my cola by Enemom
There's a cloud in the garage,
There's a tree on my bed stand,
An eagle eating my collage!
There's a subtle beating in the night,
Of a timekeeper going "gong gong,"
Reminding me of the first time,
I heard a hit song.
There's a moon in my vacuum,
There's a crocodile in the sink,
There's a shower of lovely dimes going
"Clink clink," in the window by the bed light.
There's a lost phone hidden by puzzles in the nearest room to mine,
Oh how I wish I really knew the time.
Then technically, the moment you wake up, you actually realize
Your brain made this fantasy in a coma known as sleep,
You stop and realize there are no sheep in the bathroom sink.
But after a breakfast with a bite of granola,
Why did I think of a phoenix in my cola?
Two Girls There once were two girls,Two Girls by Enemom
One small, one tall,
One strong, one weak,
Both were as opposites as opposites can be.
One day the two broke into quarrel,
The tall one swore on her father's gun barrel,
She'd never be friends with the small girl again.
The quarrel broke out over a few nicks and scratches,
That the small strong one inflicted on the taller girl.
That quarrel ended with a cigarette light,
The tall one smoked to take the stress away.
The two stumbled over their lives,
They couldn't keep balance,
The short one spent her savings away, to college that is,
All in a few gambling days.
She fought with her mother, who made her go to school,
Despite the fact she skipped class, and was considered "cool."
The tall one broke her leg in self loathing one night,
Her brother then took it and beat it with a knife.
Her daddy wasn't home, her mother dead,
Her days of living all fi
Memories of a thirteen year oldThe yelling, the pain,Memories of a thirteen year old by Enemom
The threats of suicide,
The crying of my little sister,
The screaming from downstairs.
I actually remember being in that house,
When you and daddy used to yell.
I remember it's always been that way,
You yelling, him screaming,
And me and sister in our rooms,
Having our own quarrels,
Only to quiet when you two were louder than us.
Recalling that phase of hers,
Is a very painful time,
When she threw around threats of suicide,
Like she could repurchase her life with a dime.
Of course, she could never do it,
And I didn't help showing her scary things,
And telling an eight year old,
Her mother would one day die.
Going on about the time,
You decided it was enough,
That weekend of Martin's Day you made us pack,
And move into a new house.
You never told daddy, oh no you didn't!
You kept it a secret from him,
From us act
Hetalia Virus Fanfic Part 3~*America*~
America tightened the tie as his coffee poured automatically into the cup. "Ugh. Why do I have to look so fancy for a freaking meeting?" America moaned as he picked up his coffee cup. It had the American flag decorated all around the front. America sighed and took a sip, which he almost spit out. "Owww...." He had forgotten that coffee was hot. America looked down at his crisp blue suit. Honestly, he wouldn't have chosen it, but England told him to look "clean".
America took his coffee and walked out of his front door. "Bye Tony!" He called over his shoulder as he closed the door. America jumped into his blue car and started to drive to where the meeting was being held. It was someplace in New York, where America just happened to be staying. "Hah! Suckers have to take the plane!" America smiled and sped up, so he was going 53. The speed limit was 40.
After about 20 minutes of speeding, America reached the place where the conference was
Flash backsFlashback: 6 years old.
A small girl is crying on her bed. She just had a nightmare. To her, it was terrifying. And scary. A tall, brown haired woman with piercing blue eyes begins comforting her. She picks up the child off her bed and rocks her side to side, singing a song about a snowy land. The child falls asleep in her arms, and the mother pulls the girls hair out of her face. She kisses the child's cheek, then tucks her in.
Flashback: 8 years old.
A black haired girl walks home. Her hands are burned and tears slide down her cheeks. She got into a fight earlier with another girl, one who could control fire. She tried her best with her ice, but sadly, she failed. She ran away from the girl who burned her quickly. As she walks home, she tries her best to lower the temperature, but sadly her hands are burned and she can't. When she gets home, her mother treats her hands and heals them with potions. It wouldn't be her last encounter with a fire bei
Time and Ideas They say you can't turn lead into gold. I say you can. But not here. Not in this world. Not in this time. Not right now.
They used to say it was impossible to fly hundreds of years ago. Look at us now. Airplanes, jet packs, rockets, and helicopters. What would they say if they saw the future? Where people rode in airplanes that fly so high, where rockets blast off and visit the moon. We just needed ideas for that. And ides come from our minds.
People say that our minds push us forward. But what pushes our minds? It's a question few consider, or even think about. It's a question no one asks, so it's hard to answer. But the answer is simple, for it is always there.
Time. Time is the key. When we are alone at night, as the clock ticks, an idea comes to us.we develop that idea later, when we have time. As time flows, so do ideas. Even when we aren't alone, even when we are doing something, time is flowing. And time pushes out
Shell A shell.
That's what I see.
As I drive down the road.
On the way to the sea.
A little gray shell.
So tiny, so fragile. So hollow, so small.
It's hardly even noticed, hardly noticed at all.
I stop and look at the shell.
I notice the cracks it has. I notice it hides some. I notice it.
I notice the poor little shell.
I pick up the shell. I put it in my hand.
Oh how tiny it is, barely bigger than a grain of sand.
No wonder no one noticed this shell on the sand.
I speak softly to the little shell. I hold it close.
Nothing. No life. Not even a tiny burst.
I hold the shell close and whisper to it.
"Let me fill you up with my heart. Maybe that will help."
I took out my heart and placed one small drop.
One tiny bit.
The shell couldn't take it.
It's walls were too thick, yet they were so thin.
Thick to kindness, thin to harshness.
Like an umbrella that's only good for when the sun is shining.
Friends Honestly, I look now.
I see people falling at my feet. Like broken plates.
Like dead flies. Like falling falling stars.
The feelings surrounding someone's fall.
It isn't please at, no not at all.
Those feelings are dark, and bleak, and dreary.
So black and blue are those broken hearts.
That spill forth sadness and angst.
All we can do is try.
Try to fix them.
Whether we caused it or not.
We must try. It's what a friend does, it's what friends do.
But you can only do so much. Only help so much.
Beyond that, all you can do is hope. Hope that things will be better.
When you can't do much for a broken friend,
Stand them up.
Help them make their amends.
Help them fight their battles.
Be their loyal soldiers, defend them with all you've got.
I will say this. I will say it aloud.
Life is too short to be in a dark cloud.
Life is too short to always be gloomy.
At one point, you've got to be happy sweetie.
Don't you dare Don't you dare tell me how I should act.
Don't you dare tell me how I should dress.
Don't you dare tell me how my body should look.
I'm a woman, I'm a female.
But you won't see me shopping for clothes.
Or whining about my nails and my phone.
You won't see me in cute clothes often,
Because I usually just throw some on without a care.
It's just how I am.
You won't see me starving myself,
Or comparing myself to supermodels,
Comparing myself to other people.
I'm not a circle queen, I don't force you to act a certain way.
I'm not limiting you because of your looks.
I'm limiting you on your friendliness, your quirks, your personality.
Don't you dare tell I should be skinnier or should be thinner,
Because I'm proud of having a bit of fat,
Proud of having wider hips!
Seriously, what's wrong with that?
So I'm not a skinny hourglass.
Is that really that bad?
I may not be skinny as a super
| to be honest, what can I say? Despite our differences, you've managed to touch my heart and show me how powerful words are. You have always been there, and it's been such an amazing time with you. Our join.me's are always full of life and you never cease to make me laugh. |
No matter what you say, I love your accent. It's cute, and funny. You're always always cheerful and never let corruption get the best of you. You're cheerful and so amazing.
despite the fact we started on rough ground, you're one of the closest people I have. Your drawings have charm, and watching you and chatting always makes me smile. Keep being awesome~