BreatheI’ve known how to breathe all my life,Breathe by writeacrossme
at least that’s what I’ve been told.
No one taught me
no one showed me how
I just opened my mouth and
If I never had to learn how to live
why does it sometimes feel
so goddamn hard to fill my lungs
and let go of everything
like I’ve been born to do?
Why did no one tell me about the earth
and how it lives too,
about how when I press my ear to the dirt
I can hear it wheezing and
crying all at once?
Someone once told me that,
someone once said that the Earth is alive
and it inhales children’s footsteps
and exhales the trees whispers
and sighs the soft sounds of love.
Someone once told me that.
Now that they’re gone it’s as if
the trembling of the ground has
ceased and my lungs suddenly
and everything that I’ve known
and now, it’s a struggle to breathe.
As a child I didn’t know how hard my lungs worked
I didn’t know what they had to
Picnics With Youmud stained feetPicnics With You by writeacrossme
crossed, tangled and
cherry tip fingers
A CreatorI know myself so well, I don’t think I know myself at all.A Creator by writeacrossme
An introduction is difficult because there’s so many layers to a human, I wouldn’t know where to start. If I told you anything, it would probably be the most surface, typical things, I’d bore you to death. I could tell you about how I’m allergic to my own cat, how I hate sand with a burning passion, about how my worst nightmare is talking in front of people. You might argue that those things make me who I am, but I don’t know that anyone cares. I can try to dig deep but really, I’m not even sixteen, what do I know about myself?
All I know is I stopped sleeping a long time ago.
I’m not an insomniac, to clarify. It’s just that everything seemed too much, all the words, the music, the fresh pages of a book, the worn down green graphite pencils. How could you possibly go to sleep when there was so much to be made, drawn, created, written? The year I found this out, I was ruined.
Writer ScarsI have told my secretsWriter Scars by DearPoetry
through loves ink -
painted them to my skin
with watercolor defiance.
& writers, we sometimes
write about our scars
in riddles, layers upon
layers of thought, -
care for them
on the warlands
of our bodies.
we give them faces,
we give them names,
we give them gravestones.
We kill them off
in our stories,
make them villains,
make them heroes.
I have wrists that roar,
& I will be damned
if I don’t let them
tell their stories.
|All my favorites have meaning, no matter what. Please take the time to look through the collections; I promise you it's worth it!|
Hazel EyesThere once was a young boy of around ten years old. He had lived most of his life in hospitals due to a rare, life-threatening genetic illness that, although not incredibly dangerous at first, could kill him in a matter of minutes when (or if) it ever reached its low point. His illness was rare enough that the statistical evidence was still unreliable, meaning there was no way of telling whether or not he would indeed hit that low point. At this period in his life, he was once again in the hospital. This time, however, was different. This time, he had been in the hospital for three months. He was put on a new medication. And this time, his hospital stay was due to a low point in his illness.
You see, at nine years old Jamie Maguire hit a point in his disease where even the term ‘critical condition’ didn’t begin to cover the severity of the situation. The doctors told his parents that he had a ten percent chance of survival, unless they wanted to try a new treatment th
Hey! I'm Alisyn, but you can call me Alisyn, Alice, or Ali. I'm just your typical teen girl with blonde curly hair and really long legs I play basketball and have been since I was 6 years old... I love writing and drawing, but writing is definitely my life. No matter what it's the thing that keeps me grounded when I want to fly away
I'm a pretty friendly and positive person, even though can get sad sometimes. I try to smile as much as I can and be kind to those who I meet. But ya know, I'm not perfect.
I love music, like I can't live without it. If you want to know what I like go ahead and check my interests/stamps. I'd say I've became a lover of mostly just metalcore, but most rock will do it for me and some Alternative and electronic, if done right. Not a fan of rap, country, or hip hop, but it doesn't mean I don't respect them. I'm always listening to music, and if you have anything you think I should try listening to, I'd love to hear!
Drop me a comment and I'll try to get back to you! I'd love more than anything else feedback or comments on my art... it makes my whole day happier! Constructive criticism, I might add. Thank you, hope you enjoy my page
The custom boxes are done by KrowsyKunst
The Fourth Dimension (2nd draft) - 14,136 words
To Be Continued:
The Assassin's Selection (Nanowrimo 2012) - 51,068 words, about half way done.
The Fourth Dimension (1st draft) - 80,095 words, currently in second draft.
Powerless (Nanowrimo 2011) - 44,126 words, so bad I've decided to leave it the way it is.
Novel statuses last updated January 6, 2014