Nobody ever wonders how the lighthouse feels
Nobody thinks to ask.
Nobody realises that while it casts it shining light
Its heart is breaking.
The lighthouse, it had dreams
A life to live
But confined to its rock,
it is doomed to be constricted
tortured
demeaned.
The lighthouse had dreams too.
Who are they to say I should move on?
"Forget about her" they chime.
They don't understand.
I can't.
I don't see the light at the end of the tunnel,
but at the same time I can't just turn around.
I never thought i'd be in this position.
But no matter what, she'll never be mine.
So I feel this emptiness inside,
It's such a different feeling than the norm.
I can't liken it to anything.
Does this even matter?
In the grand scheme of things, if there is one,
does this make a difference?
Why?
Why not?
Who's to say it does or doesn't.
Certainly not I.
While there are children dying of starvation,
I find it hard to imagine that mi
A dark and cold corridor.
You turn right.
What light through yonder window breaks?
The magnificent poet races through your mind.
The world shatters around you.
Like so many panes of broken glass.
A single tear breaks the silence.
Falling to the ground.
Slowly, as colours appear fleetingly in every direction.
Music.
Warmth.
Laughter.
Happiness.
You find yourself in nirvana.
A Love Story
Friends, pushed together, united by swirling winds,
Pushed apart by malicious tormentors,
Reeling over bubbling emotions coming to the surface,
Sullen thoughts grope the dark halls of the mind,
Strands of light, mixed into already forming thoughts,
Expectations react and hide away,
Penultimate ideas form and race through consciousness,
A perilous cliff overhung by sharp rocks,
from which the romantics stand,
and behold the majesty of creation,
from their infinite wisdom,
they impart one golden gift,
only appreciated in the light,
love.
Foreigner - Working Title. by Limpcracker, literature
Literature
Foreigner - Working Title.
I ran toward the barn. Father wouldn't be happy today, not with my meager catch. I had just been fishing, but since the curse had settled, the fish were not biting.
"Josh!" Father's voice echoed in the wind, giving it a haunting quality "Get in here, boy!"
I changed my direction to the house. Father must have seen me through the window. Damn. I wasn't supposed to come home until I caught something, but I had been secretly sneaking to the barn for days.
I walked into the house to find my father sitting at our round oak table. In the harsh light he had a regal look, but it was undercut by the wounds and hardship of years of labour.
"So yo
Nobody ever wonders how the lighthouse feels
Nobody thinks to ask.
Nobody realises that while it casts it shining light
Its heart is breaking.
The lighthouse, it had dreams
A life to live
But confined to its rock,
it is doomed to be constricted
tortured
demeaned.
The lighthouse had dreams too.
Who are they to say I should move on?
"Forget about her" they chime.
They don't understand.
I can't.
I don't see the light at the end of the tunnel,
but at the same time I can't just turn around.
I never thought i'd be in this position.
But no matter what, she'll never be mine.
So I feel this emptiness inside,
It's such a different feeling than the norm.
I can't liken it to anything.
Does this even matter?
In the grand scheme of things, if there is one,
does this make a difference?
Why?
Why not?
Who's to say it does or doesn't.
Certainly not I.
While there are children dying of starvation,
I find it hard to imagine that mi
A dark and cold corridor.
You turn right.
What light through yonder window breaks?
The magnificent poet races through your mind.
The world shatters around you.
Like so many panes of broken glass.
A single tear breaks the silence.
Falling to the ground.
Slowly, as colours appear fleetingly in every direction.
Music.
Warmth.
Laughter.
Happiness.
You find yourself in nirvana.
A Love Story
Friends, pushed together, united by swirling winds,
Pushed apart by malicious tormentors,
Reeling over bubbling emotions coming to the surface,
Sullen thoughts grope the dark halls of the mind,
Strands of light, mixed into already forming thoughts,
Expectations react and hide away,
Penultimate ideas form and race through consciousness,
A perilous cliff overhung by sharp rocks,
from which the romantics stand,
and behold the majesty of creation,
from their infinite wisdom,
they impart one golden gift,
only appreciated in the light,
love.
And I like writing? and awesomely cool pictures are alright too.
Oh and I should probably do all that copyright stuff. But meh. If you use my stuff just like tell everyone that you didn't write/paint/photograph/whatever it, ok? You don't have to credit me just tell them that it wasn't you.
Favourite genre of music: Rock. Favourite style of art: Music Operating System: Windows Vista 2.0 MP3 player of choice: Ipod 120gb. Wallpaper of choice: Friends. Favourite cartoon character: Wally/Waldo. Personal Quote: 'If theres anything more important than my ego on this ship, i want it shot and brought to me.&