Insanity Poetry Mga Nobela at Kwento

This condition would last until mid-college days. When headaches visit as frequent as the rain, the mind starts to be pre-occupied with other things. Frustrations about people and circumstance set in. Rather than be defeated by these precepts, I started training myself to be productive in areas where no one, in my limited knowledge of people in our locale, tried to take the time seriously. And to somehow apply whatever thoughts or words I have read in the scarcity of books at home, I began writing non-sense poetry. During those times of inspiration, I always have with me a pencil and a pad of paper. When inspiration strikes, at any given time or circumstance, one needs to get hit.

She finished the song, but was still asleep. Romero and everyone had been woken up from the singing and came downstairs. By the time they got dressed and downstairs she was singing and playing a different song “Finding refuge in my own lies…How are you? i’m doing alright…small talk is a great disguise…just let me be…just let me be…empty thoughts start to crowd my mind..am I only living, living to survive?..shake it off, but I’ve lost the drive…just let me be…just let me be…let me be okay…No one knows what goes on up inside my head…there’s a new kind of poison and it’s starting to spread…no one knows what goes on up inside my head…they don’t think I need help..but I’m scaring myself…I just wa

Gets louder and louder by the moment until that insanity finally comes to the surface, as he screams laughing in between the following curse words. “Sanity? Oh, please! Tell me all about it as I do not know a damn f****** thing about that s**** word. Insanity? Oh, hell yes! That is me and is all about me. I love that word as I love the ring unto it as it pays me to laugh this way and turn my life in this perfect living hell, I never believe I could ever have. Damn those f****** people and in my original world who did nothing but to step unto the weak and take everything of what they think they can just because they are rich and powerful. Damn is this life which I hated and love, as I love ga

When it talks to you like you don't belong Or tells you you're in the wrong field When something's in your mitochondrial 'Cause it latched on to you, like— Knock knock, let the devil in Manevolent as I've ever been, head is spinnin' This medicine's screamin', "L-L-L-Let us in!" L-L-L-Like a salad bowl, Edgar Allan Poe Bedridden, shoulda been dead a long time ago Liquid Tylenol, gelatins, think my skeleton's meltin' Wicked, I get all high when I think I've smelled the scent Of elephant manure—hell, I meant Kahlúa Screw it, to hell with it, I went through hell with accelerants And blew up my-my-myself again Volkswagen, tailspin, bucket matches my pale skin

“They all think I should apologize. They wait for me to beg. To weep. To fall on my knees and cry for forgiveness. But I will not. I can’t. I do not even know how. I was never made for begging. I was made for winning. And I will win again. Even if I have to destroy every last person who doubted me.” “Oh, listen to me. Talking to the walls, pacing these empty floors. No maids, no calls, no friends, no Marcus, no family. Just me and these shadows. Maybe I am mad. Maybe I have always been. But it does not matter. Because madness is not weakness. Madness is freedom. No rules. No limits. No shame. Just me. Just my rage. Just my hunger. And hunger, my dear invisible audience, hunger will always ea

note that this is illegal. With a deep breath, Athena clicked on the files Jay had sent her, and a series of mugshots filled her screen. Five faces stared back at her, each with a haunting story to tell. The first inmate, Karam Abigal, sent a shiver down Athena's spine. The sheer brutality of his crimes, the annihilation of an entire family, shook her to her core. It was chilling to read that he suffered from depression and schizophrenia, mental illnesses that seemed to contribute to the unimaginable acts he had committed. His impending death in five months added another layer of gravity to the situation.

And I don’t want to feel my voice choking between my throat and my mouth Grasping for air, with a blurry vision, dead stars dancing behind my eyelids. Me, wishing to enter into the blankness of the darkness. Me, dying without dying. Where my sadness ends, is where my heart is drawn from. And where my trouble ceases is where my sanity lies. I am a loyal palace maid. Loyal to the enemy of peace. Loyal to insanity. Regretfully dismantled to the pupils of my fears.

" As soon as I finished, the whole group melted into a puddle of blushes. Cynthia, at that moment, started tearing up. She gave me that same look—the same one she gave me when we kissed. Damn. I had written these poems for her, to recite them in a private, intimate setting where it would be just the two of us. Who knows? I might have been lucky enough to steal another kiss. But now, here we were, with an audience. "Fuck me, Africa!" Chinwe gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. "What part of hell are you from, please? Where do you get all this inspiration from?" Cynthia looked like she had been hypnotized, completely lost in my words.

On the night of their fourth wedding anniversary, Raymond Whitmore stood on a Boston stage and unveiled a perfume called Eternal Claire, dedicating it to the woman he swore he would love until his last breath. The world called it the most romantic gesture of the year. Claire called it a cage with a golden lid. Because thirty minutes later, a stranger sent her a video of that same perfume being poured over another woman's naked chest, in a suite two floors below the ballroom, by her husband's very hands. For four years, Claire had traded her PhD, her name, and her silence for a marriage the tabloids envied. In return, she got a mother-in-law who called her barren, a husband who called h

GREY I walked through the hallway leading to my office as my lips continuously curved into a smirk. After a rather sleepless night, I expected exhaustion. Yet, my body buzzed with adrenaline, filling me with the excitement I hadn't felt in years. Perhaps I had completely lost my mind. Then again, insanity wasn't anything new in my world. Sane people tend to die quickly. Only sick bastards remained, those who refused to die, no matter how much fucked-up shit they'd been through.