Life's Journey Poems の小説・ストーリー

Logic tells me fate brought me here, it wasn’t an easy journey, and it wasn’t one I wish on anyone else, but boy does getting here feel worth it. I’m sure that sounds crazy. Who could ever feel the horrors I’ve lived through are worth it? But the truth is, those horrors allow me to appreciate all of this so much more. Joy, pleasure, love; I treasure and feel these things more intensely because I know how despair, pain and hate feel. My life is poetic in a way. I am life and death, light, and darkness and that’s shown through my life experiences. For all the darkness I have lived through I have found equal amounts of light. I walk the line between both. It’s a blessing and a curse, but now th

Sky says as she jesters with her hands to me. I took a couple of deep breaths before I began to read my poem out loud. Gathering my nerves before I speak. Lifeless Lost and alone left empty without a home. Watching as the wind blows, chattering through hollow bones. Words are nothing but a sound cracking and breaking with each bound. A girl once set to sore left with oozing pores, born in a world torn in two. Amber eyes stare into the starry skies, locks of blonde hair ripped from a head now bare. A face that once held so much grace, revealing split flesh tattered like mesh. Words are nothing but a sound cracking and breaking with each bound. Tears shed out of so many fears, crying in the da

I waved both of them away, and walked off, heading somewhere that just wasn't there. I ended up heading to the thicket of the woods, remembering the trees, and the pathways I use to take in my younger years before being told that a lady doesn't wander off on her one-especially in the woods. I do admit that walking in pants was easier than a gown; it didn't get caught or snagged into the roots of trees, and I didn't trip whilst climbing over fallen logs. Once the pathway comes back into view, I know exactly where I am. The small meadow that looked more lovely in spring awaited me like an old friend would. I stepped in, feeling the tall grass touch a little above my ankles, wildflowers, and ti

Lauren "Lord what do you mean by that?" God "Lauren, you should ask this question to your self look back to how you lived your life" Lauren closed his eyes and started to recall how his life was and when he opened his eyes he started to cry, his eyes turned red, he felt really uncomfortable, his heart started to ake Lauren "It was all a lie a lie I created to escape the cruel things I experienced" God "Tell me, Lauren, about your real life"

Ire silence surrounds, not a single sound could be heard, as all lay between the oasis of their dreams and deserts of their nightmares, each one living their fate, swirling to the tunes of lines in their hands, for the waves had already sailed to the shore and the winds had already floated and all that remained was the result that future beholds. As the rosy color of the dawning sky slowly moved away, the chirping and whistling of the birds can be heard, all lively and happy to the world it seemed, for all we know it isn't the tune of happiness, merely its the tune of misery, heartache and pain lost in this universe of disbelief and fake, we settle upon the beauty of fake happiness, yet litt

She has caught every part of my being and doesn't even realize it. I dip my hands into a bucket of water and watch as it moves softly around my outstretched fingers, caressing coolly, eddying in their wake. I pull my hands out and watch the drips, both transparent and opaque at the same time. They fall as if snatched by gravity to the water below, each one swiftly haloed by ever-growing rings. Sometimes I wish life could be as free flowing as the water on my hands. Water is powerful, it creates paths where there are none, and is strong enough to break through even the toughest of stones. But life is nothin like water, flowing onward never letting anything block its path. The thing about life

Birds are chirping and going back to their home. I thought this is my home but I was wrong, my home is, where Siddharth lives, in his arms. He is my home because right now I am feeling a homeless person without him. If I told everything Siddharth before, what I had done and about Keerti's and James relationship, he may be forgive me and support me. But I hide things from him and he felt betrayed like I felt two years ago when he hide things from me. He will never forgive me and I never forgive myself for taking someone's life and betrayed Siddharth.

She discovered that these fleeting moments were precious, pearls of pure joy scattered throughout the vastness of everyday life. And so, with each step she took into the unknown, Isabella carried with her this simple yet powerful truth: life may be full of difficulties, but it is also full of beauty and hope. Choosing to focus on the light, even when surrounded by darkness, was her bravest act of rebellion against the storms of fate. It was her war song and her lullaby; it was the echo of her soul telling the world: "I am here, I am alive, and I choose love."

My heart started to beat fast in my chest. How many times had she seen us at our worst? How much had we hurt her without even realizing it? Feeling overwhelmed, I turned to the next page and found a short poem scribbled in her neat handwriting. It was about stars, rivers, and memories. Reading her words, I felt a sense of peace and calm wash over me. It was as if Val was speaking to me through her poetry, reminding me of the beauty and wonder of life.

Love is the universal language that transcends borders and bridges the divides of humanity. As we navigate the twists and turns of life's grand tapestry, we must remember that we are never truly alone. The stories of countless souls intertwine with ours, their wisdom and experiences guiding us along the way. We are part of an intricate web of existence, and our actions have the power to create ripples of change that reach far beyond our own horizons. With every sunrise, a new chapter begins, and with every sunset, a chapter ends. Life is a book of infinite pages, waiting for our words to fill them with purpose and passion. It's a canvas of endless possibilities, and we are the artists of our