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Sammylovesyoulots

Published: Jun 22, 2013

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Literature Text

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More by Sammylovesyoulots

Literature

Young and stupid

I feel like I grew up too fast Now maturity is expected of me However I don't feel ready What if I want to be a stupid kid? Let me fuck up, Maybe get a little fucked up Nothing too crazy Not a lot of trouble Just have some fun I know it might sound like a bit much I just wish I felt happy being alive I'm too afraid to even try

Recommended Literature

Literature

The Individual

You wear your skin, with mask of sin, A spiderweb of lies. Of "individuals", Breaking ties, alone at last They seem to hide, a fixation of vanity... I am the "individual"! This is my golden ritual, Refuse all that is me, A web of lies I be! But can you see, what you've become, Showing these scars made by none- Other than you? They were made just for you... They were made just by you... Made to be pitied too... You are the "individual"! Lies are your golden ritual, Refuse what you should be, To live with agony!

Literature

ENOUGH!

There are times when I feel like tearing these pages apart, Or perhaps, throwing this BLOODY song into the fire and watching it BURN! Maybe I'll start plucking the keys from my keyboard, Or simply swipe everything off the desk. Each item shattering into a hundred pieces, Much like the fragments of my dying inspiration.

Literature

Lies

Let me look into your eyes Eyes beautiful, eyes deep, Let me sink into your mind To see the secrets that you keep Let me kiss you past your tongue To your heart warm and sweet Then I'd see the honest truth Your lies are only words deep Some day you may hurt yourself Your skin will break and bleed The words will pour quickly out Protection is only skin deep I know you more than anyone I know the answers that I seek Are hiding behind your pretty words Your lies are only skin deep

Suggested Collections

Stories and Poems

Literature

My Life Story Isn't A Poem

This is what it feels like to crumble down in a blazing squall. You are muffled gunshots wrecking yourself in high speed collision with his brass armor. You compress every eruption by choking ashes and swallowing shatter glasses because god forbid you are a frostbitten girl with hitched breath and messed up mascara and god forbid you are explosive and god forbid you crumble down because no, you are an inspiration and you are clenched fist and sculpted chest, you are concrete and you are statue, you are the ice cold dusk and YOU DON

Literature

Why Books Suck

Let me write you a story of all you want to hear. Of intercourse and romance, drugs and beer. Of simple plots and story devices, where no thinking is required. I'll even make it into a series, everything you've desired. Pick it up in the middle, why not? It's all the same. So-and-so get together, there's sex on every page. It's the best story in the world, and it only took me six days! Don't worry about morals, there's none to be learned. If you hate life-long lessons, then enjoy every word. The characters are flat with the basic of descriptions, with no voice of their own. If one dies, no tears will be shed, there's another just arou

Literature

to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub.

i. to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub: in the magazine I own that published your story, they blurred out the crime scene photographs, erasing your face and the full curves of your breasts. some part of me wonders if you would have wanted this, or if you would have liked for the public to see you in your final moments, half-soaked in grey-looking water, your hair in strings, glued to the porcelain, eyes closed and mouth gaping, no breath stirring, no bubbles rising. ii. sometimes when I look into the depths of my bathroom sink, I hear your voice (or what I imagine it to be-- after all, we never met). you sit on the edge

Poetry, Art and Others

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Poetry Apparently

Literature

Library

I wander into my favorite forest, where anything and everything is said, where a drop of ink is a seed, where words take the place of leaves.

Literature

wands up

your face had many names, each one a ring in the tree of your life; a paragon in the arts, a kind voice in the wind you were the lighthouse in the fog, the booming presence from above, the firework display in Germany, and the wizard who struck Muggle gold in the hearts of millions; the laughter in your halls will cease to be moved to a higher place, the kindness you gave to all will be expedited to the world

Literature

in congratulations on your recent nuptials

i have spent the past three nights shaking and thinking about how many poems i would write if i knew where to send them. don’t think that i’ve forgotten you, please, because i promise i haven’t. i still remember how you take your eggs on saturday and how you make yourself fall asleep when it’s four a.m. and you don’t want to leave yet. it’s more than that too, okay, i remember your body, firm against my body, your voice in my car, your hair ties around my wrists, your chest rising and falling with every one of my heartbeats. you were all my poems. you were everything significant. you were my late nigh

Featured in Groups

I wrote this a little while back.. I nearly caved that night.. So instead of breaking down I got out my laptop and wrote a lot of stuff. Most of it was no good, but I like this one... even if its not my best I like it a lot. Tell me what you think!

Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License

Comments28

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Relic-Angel

Apr 20, 2014

All I could think of was chocolate when reading this.

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