Mountains WeepOh, how those snow-capped mountains weep. Their tears send a myriad of streams Down Down Down The winter-brushed hillside.Mountains Weep
Such silent woe passing without notice. No recognition from the stripped briar Or the weathered heather.
Every year that passes, The sorrow of the mountain falls Down Down Down Without a soul to see.
The Oak and The PoppyI feel like the hollow cavern Of an age-old tree. The breeze catches me like It would a poppy stem. My skin is as frail as those Vivid, satiny petals. Inside, though, I’m as rough As the old oak’s bark.The Oak and The Poppy
I have endured and come Through to witness it all. I am the oak with ancient Roots spreading so deep. But I am the poppy, Frail and carried by the wind. The embodiment of both, I shall last out this world.
I am a fighter And I shall survive.
China Doll FacesChina doll faces, Eyes wide and glassy, Skin so smooth and silky.China Doll Faces
Unseeingly do they observe, Sat upon their lavish, golden throne, But what happens when they finally wake?
When the impossible becomes possible, And everything that once defined life is no more. Should our hoped utopia become a horrific dystopia?
Man shall fall and they, those china dolls, shall rise to power, They shall leave so few alive to increase their numbers, feed the gods. Gods, oh yes, they believe they are gods, She especially. Gods who all see.
&
The Tale of Seral Amanae, IIAn hour or so later, Seral found herself stood motionless by her bedroom window, her nose almost pressed to the glass. Rain drove down mercilessly outside, drowning out the sound of horses hooves as Loclaen raced down the garden path, mounted on a borrowed stallion; silvery hair tearing out behind him in a shocking whirlwind. Her mother had finally tired of his constant complaining and malicious interjections, telling him that he would do far better at home where he could ask for all he wished, and mock his mother's servants to his heart's content. Of course, he would return tomorrow with some extravagant story or interesting item - most probThe Tale of Seral Amanae, II
-+- Cinnamon and Vanilla -+-Never before in my life, have I felt the urge to record my stories… to lay down scenes from my past, or immediate present on paper. It is a thing that I would defy my students to participate in. It is a thing kept entirely for mortals, as a mean to remember their pitiful excuse for an existence, as their poor brains are too dull, and overflowing with utter nonsense to catch up the dark scenes of a lost childhood, in the intricate cobwebs of their minds. Minds that they cannot begin to understand… misused muscles.-+- Cinnamon and Vanilla -+-
Wonder then, if your mind is intelligent enough to generate the thought, why I stoop low enough to write of this. I’m
Cinnamon and Vanilla +Part 2+Shortly after arriving upon those colourful China docks, I became lost. It was not so much the vivid shades of scarlet, which seemed to flitter constantly before my bewildered eyes, as opposed to the sound. Words in such a language as I had never before heard, rang shrilly in my ears, hammering at the inside of my brain until I gave in, and slipped away, miserably, from the eye of the storm; giving myself to the back streets, behind towering, rickety old buildings.Cinnamon and Vanilla +Part 2+
Never before had I been so alone… and it was at that moment in time, that I realised what a childish mistake I had made, by leaving the familiar surroundings of my hom
Literature Account
Yearning
--
Jesus hates you.
アニメ は幼稚である。
The friend:
--
Born to be a Vampire.
Photos: [link]
Literature: [link]
"Above the darkest clouds the sun is bright and warm and the gleaming of the rainbow will follow every storm."
--
Jesus hates you.
アニメ は幼稚である。
Hope you have a great day.
--
For she was all that was left when they'd sifted
Through industy's ashes for unspent souls.
--
Born to be a Vampire.
Photos: [link]
Literature: [link]
"Above the darkest clouds the sun is bright and warm and the gleaming of the rainbow will follow every storm."
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