EmotionalOne98

If this desk could talk, Would he speak to me in pity? Would he question my inner doubt, Or laugh at all my schemes? If this desk could listen, Would he be here for moral support? Maybe he would shift the subject to him, Babbling about his lost dreams of being a book. If this desk could breathe, Would he spend his life writing a memoir? Or would he be the hottest attraction, In the chic, upscale club? If this desk could talk, Would he worry about our sanity, Questioning about a speaking desk, Or would he cry in ecstasy, His cries for a scratch finally heard?

A young woman named Irma Dorke loved making art, and practiced Arting  all day long to become the very best in all her town. But one day, she was completely stumped. She looked around her room, full of art pieces featuring mystical places, sci-fi landscapes of a futuristic Yurfacee, and a portrait of Johnny Depp that looked so real, you could start a conversation with it. But nothing inspired her. Had she really created everything there was to create? Depressed, she looked out her window, and made a wish on a nearby snake for inspiration to return to her. The next morning, she sprung out of bed, and used her skill in Arting  to create the mos

A loyal campanion, Eager to ignore, Secretly planning His way out the door, Scratches your face, trips you from his "love", before he sits on your bed, cleaning his... Leg. Furry and cute, Secretive and cunning, All ways to describe, that adorable little kitten.

Uh oh daddy, I didn't mean to break it. Please don't yell or scream daddy, It was only an accident. Uh oh daddy, Why are you hitting mommy? Please don't daddy, Can't you see she's dead? Uh oh daddy, Please can't you stop? I'm tired of hiding bruises, Why am I even here anymore?! Uh oh daddy…. Now I see who you truly are. Mommy was right. You could never love, Uh oh daddy, From up here, I can see you aren't upset, That mommy and me are gone Uh oh daddy, Guess you'll never know, What it's like up here, A place that's really home.

Inked angel, Delicate details etched to life, Wings sketched into skin. Graceful beatings of her heart, A constant melody, Never played the same. Vibrant waves reflect a dance in her eyes, The soothing rhythm contradicted By the tease in her grin A beauty stilled, Life stopped, A collection piece of needled artwork.

Generations passed, Stories flowing through the ages, Always remembered,

Specks of beauty adorn the land, Once so known, now undefined. Nature's gift that we'll see but never know, Lost in this  generation Of technological creation. Stranded with words lost long ago, Wished upon as their own go unfilfulled. Dull yellows stand abandoned in the depths of the world, Once a common life, now only a dandelion's dream.

Intricate web of lies, A spiral den of deceit Frozen in time Never to be complete Spun so perfectly In an evil twist of fate, Your own manipulation The secret to your defeat Strangled by sins, Suffocated in pleasure Stabbed with guilt All complications of your life.

Fleeting desire A moment meant not to last But not be forgotten Wisps of creation Meshing into tangled webs Slowly disappear. Like a dragonfly Beauty for this moment But never staying long.