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Literature Text
If pain is weakness leaving the body, why am I not the world's strongest man?
If love conquers all, why is there so much hate?
If Good always triumphs, why is there so much Evil?
Why do bad things happen to good people, and good things to bad people?
If there is nothing better than curling up with a good book, why do we have so many other things to do?
Why are video games so addictive?
Why do people hurt their children when they profess to love them?
Why is world peace so hard to achieve?
Are we alone in the universe?
If God created Man in His own image, how can anyone say that God does not walk among us?
Am I alive?
Are you alive?
Do you care about anything other than yourself?
Are you happy?
Are you lying about it?
Are you lying about anything?
Do you cry in secret?
Do you cry at all?
Do you know what love means?
Really, do you?
Do you fake smiles for those you care about?
Who are you?
Who am I?
Who are we?
Do you ask questions, or do you just accept the answers you're given?
jlp May 16, 2009
If love conquers all, why is there so much hate?
If Good always triumphs, why is there so much Evil?
Why do bad things happen to good people, and good things to bad people?
If there is nothing better than curling up with a good book, why do we have so many other things to do?
Why are video games so addictive?
Why do people hurt their children when they profess to love them?
Why is world peace so hard to achieve?
Are we alone in the universe?
If God created Man in His own image, how can anyone say that God does not walk among us?
Am I alive?
Are you alive?
Do you care about anything other than yourself?
Are you happy?
Are you lying about it?
Are you lying about anything?
Do you cry in secret?
Do you cry at all?
Do you know what love means?
Really, do you?
Do you fake smiles for those you care about?
Who are you?
Who am I?
Who are we?
Do you ask questions, or do you just accept the answers you're given?
jlp May 16, 2009
Literature
Life
Life is quite simple,
but we humans insist on
complicating it.
Literature
omniscient.
i know you.
i've seen you capture a butterfly,
put it in a glass jar
simply because seeing something with wings
trapped and unable to fly
made you feel better,
i stood aside while you watched
through antique sage-tinted glass
as it died alone.
i know you drive a motorcycle
to school and
to work every morning,
but motorcycles make me think of
broken mirrors and crying mothers,
of empty scrapbook pages
and seventeen year old boys
who won't make it to eighteen
i know that you smell like
versace and marlboro reds,
like rain and coffee and
friday nights alone
on a cold leather sofa.
i know you.
but i think i like you anyway
Literature
What It Isn't Is What It Is
This is not a love letter.
It's not a reminder of midnight stargazing, kissing under our bright yellow umbrella, witching hour phone calls, or slow dances. Because, my dearest, everyone knows that those are all so cliche like forgotten lace Valentines, broken promises, afternoon walks through the park, and a bouquet of a dozen thornless, dewy, bright, perfect red roses.
This is not a love poem.
It's not memories of Spearmint chewing gum kisses, tic-tac-toe in hot beach sand, you holding me and stroking my hair on Lazy Sundays, or whispers in a dark movie theater, complete with buttery popcorn. Because, m
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"I am asking you questions! I am looking for answers!"-"Alive" arrogantreality.deviantart.com…
This was suggested by Makola94, the theme is "questions".
This was suggested by Makola94, the theme is "questions".
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I cry in secret sometimes