For the poem Humiliation: The heat and rage that builds within us after each humiliating act and taunt, smolders and sears our hearts. We grow more and more callous, jaded, sarcastic, and bitter the longer we have to endure it. After reading this poem, I will never listen to “Everything Burns” by Anastacia the same again.

In Leap, I feel the adrenalin surge as my toes wriggle over the edge of the ledge. The wind does not quite drown out my pulsing heart that beats in my ears. After the quick release of my coiled spring, my life’s breath catches in my throat. I am poised in a moment of weightlessness. Then the exhilarating rush begins, my smile, ever-widening, just before…

For Restricted: What young heart does not strive to burst the bonds of restriction? The things that bind us may be the insensitive and asinine rules around us. Our synapses are expanding and our brains are finding new ways to look at the molderings of old conventions. But all the outward restrictions that exert their outside forces against us pale to nothingness compared to the binding restrictions we heap upon ourselves. In a sense of self-preservation, we bury ourselves beneath barricades, walls, and bulwarks to protect our fragile selves from the insensitivity of a world that grows ever more sinister and cruel at each pondering.

Your Poem: Above the Clouds—Recipe From: evokes the panoramic beauty of Sky, Land and Love.

First Solo: builds upon the exhilaration of Possibility, and leaves the reader with the delight of Wonderment.

The poem, Ugly Beauty, peels away the mask of teenage Preps and Power-mongers. It reveals them as hollow, lifeless facades, devoid of a humane heart, and full of everything vile and vain. They dress to entice and draw attention to themselves, any attention, only to wield that reward as a sharpened tool to gash their observer. We—the hurt, the jilted, the pained—often, wrongly, begin to see ourselves with their eyes, and judge ourselves as unworthy. We crave, no covet, even the slighted attention that they may have to offer us, only to find out that we have raised their ire by simply being ourselves. All the while we are trying to squeeze ourselves into their molds, we chip away at our very core, our individuality, our originality, our very essence. We are the true Individuals, those who stand amid hollow dolls. I would much rather be an individual, even with my numerous imperfections, than to become a hollowed ghost with makeup.

In the Past: The Past is always right in front of us. We see it in our mirrors daily, the tangible and the intangible scars that cover us. These deep wounds can never be covered. Whatever bandage we use simply slides off. The whelps we get from hurt, lies and rejection wound our hearts, and will take many lifetimes to heal, if even then. Some will tell us to put on a happy face. Perhaps it is their own way to cope. They say, IT is all “in the past”. But we, the mangle-hearted, know that the past is present in all its horror. The pain we live with everyday dulls our hearts to the joy of possibility and shuts us away from even making the tiniest step to venture beyond the protective walls we have caged our hearts behind. Love takes time to soften a wounded heart, and when our hearts are softened, we know it is ripe and laid wide open to be wounded again.

For Ex Girlfriend: Ex-s, what can I say? If we cared for them, they are forever with us. If we did not care for them, and we have a good heart, we have great regret. And sometimes as the years go by, our past comes back around and we find that our feet have taken us in meandering circles.

Two URLs. The top one has Manga proportions the bottom one has how to draw manga feet.



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Thanks for the fave on my sketch ^_^

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Just Greg, thanks.

Thanks for the favorites. <3

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Life is like a box of choco--HEY! Stop eating those! They're mine!

thankss for the fav, I find it cute that you made a different account to be a fangirl XD

Thank you so much for the favorites~!! ____