1. No More Drama
Reflecting back, it seems so silly
All of the whining and the drama
It leaves an ache of embarrassment in my chest
But then I reflect further
Then I reflect deeper
And then I recall all the things that I felt.
2. The Flame
Let the flames lick the sky
Faces reflected, going down into the embers
It’s only certain things that set my heart on fire
Just before gets choked out by the smoke
3. The Sky is Falling
The Tale of Modeña
Prologue
Modeña, a land of rolling hills and peaceful valleys, shallow streams and graceful rivers, fields of grain and meadows of flowers, is a glorious and powerful nation. It may surprise you, though, that not so long ago it was not like this. Though Modeña was powerful, peace did not lay on all her borders. There was a time when war loomed as death over the country.
This is a story I wrote for my 3 year old nephew.
~ ~ ~
Once upon a time in a forest, there lived a squirrel that was looking at himself in the stream and suddenly stated:
“I just don’t understand why did God give me such a big, brown tail and sharp buck teeth?” The Squirrel pouted. “I wish I were a Mouse. Then, I could have round big ears and a thin sleek tail.”
"When Life Gives You Lemons..."
Sometimes life hurts
Deep, deep, within.
Sometimes it burns
And pokes
And prods -
Until it finds your breaking point.
Sometimes it hurts
So hard to breathe.
Too hard to breathe.
Life suffocates
No matter how it comes.
Joy wells up inside
Until you can't breathe.
Sorrow wells inside
Until you can't breathe.
It's hard to breathe
And you're close to your
Breaking point.
Have you reached your
Breaking point?
Will you just give in?
Prologue
Many people dream of mirrors. Many stories are told that conjure up different uses for such mirrors. Many minds fear the reflective surfaces; while others seem clearly worship them. Imagine with me that every story, every legend, every dream about mirrors is mothy completely true and completely false. It all depends on how you see the mirror and what you see inside. Together every dream of the past, every vision of the future, and every glimpse of one’s self create the greatest legend of all time.
Dedicated to Emilie Parker, who was killed in the school shooting in Newton, Connecticut, on December 14th, 2012.
Early morning
Sunrise smile
I twirl her around
She’s such a big girl now
Already six years old
But my girl Emilie, she’ll always be
Daddy’s little girl to me
Early morning
Off to school
She turns and she smiles
Oh how I love that girl
My little angel, walking away
Never could I’ve guessed
That this would be her last day
Strange People call me strange Just because I’m not tall People call me strange ‘Cause I don’t have good posture People call me strange ‘Cause I get a B+ People still call me strange I’m in a nursing home All I do is sit around There’s no reason to call me strange anymore Goodbye
I: Mirror, Mirror
Staring at this glassy slate
searching for hidden truths
defining myself by what I see
one moment I'm lovely
beautiful
beyond any compare
the next I'm ugly
my faults plain to see
I'm a vain creature
I'm trying to stop
judging myself
by the reflection
wipe clear the slate
love myself
as unique
I've heard that I'm beautiful
I disagree
but I care too deeply
what you might see
what looks back
from that cold glassy slate
staring
*This story is NOT fictional, but there wasn't a non-fiction section. ;)
I hope y'all like this. I wouldn't exactly call this a fiction, because, even though if is not a real story, it is not a fantasy I guess I'm trying to say. So anyways, please critique! It's not that long so it doesn't take that long. I got the inspiration and wrote it in about ten minutes. Give me ideas though, please. If there's something that ought to be changed I will do it. (You can edit these after they're posted, right?) anyways, I hope you enjoy.