Ride Or Die Poems For Him Novels & Stories

Murphy pulled back instantly from her, holding her hand gently and taking it off from her face, her eyes held tenaciously while locking her gaze at her, speaking rigidly in a loud voice, "THERE IS NO ELYSIUM FOR THOSE WHO DIE COWARDLY! NO ELYSIUM FOR US EVEN! IT'S FOR HEROES! WHO DEFY THEIR FATES, AND DON'T SURRENDER! IT'S NOT FOR COWARDS LIKE YOU AND ME!".

A tribute: Lady Bana’s Poem: “Life is a thread we weave in storms, Stitching dreams through quiet forms. We rise, we fall, we burn, we freeze, We beg for time, but Time won't cease. Death is not the end, my friend, Just a bend where echoes blend. You go where silence drinks the light, Beyond our reach, beyond our sight. But I, who stay, must wear the pain, A sword of loss, a crown of rain. Farewell, my sword, my foolish warrior, The game is now on, and I must fight to avenge.”

Tan holding on to the belly of a pregnant woman. He wonders why that picture is in the book he is reading. There is a poem written there. You are my only dream. I will love you until I disappear. I will fight you against those who have been bad to you I will not forsake you and give up. You will remain in my mind and heart.

An hour later, after searching for anything to help us within books that ranged from brand new to hundreds of years old, I huffed with disappointment and decided to stretch my legs; my pale finger trailed over the spines of books, dust painting my fingertip. Once I reached the poetry section, I smiled brightly. All around me were books from Silvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe, Emily Dickson, Robert Frost, and many others that were like my old friends. Taking a random book off the shelf, I flipped through its contents. "(...) Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home." ~ Tecumseh "You enjoy poetry too?" A familiar voice spoke behind me, making my heart speed up as I jumped slightly. Turn

I wrote this poem after the death of my younger brother, his name was Chinagorom ; he was just about a month old when we lost him to death. I vehemently believed that he was taken forcefully by The Undertaker. This poem is a protect of anger and dismay. I was so angry and disheartened when I got home as a 13year old kid and met my younger brother lying cold. I touched his skin and the tissues were not active to hold his skin. THIS STORY IS SPECIALLY DEDICATED TO MY LATE BROTHER, CHINAGOROM.

I’ll burn the whole fucking world down before I let him take you. Promise me something. Anything. If I die... No. Dane... I said no. There’s no “someone else.” There’s no moving on. There’s only you. There’s only ever been you. So don’t ask me to promise something impossible. That’s not fair... I don’t care about fair. I care about you. And if you die… His voice actually cracks. If you die, I die. That’s the deal. We live together or we die together. No in-between.

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

“OATH OF FALLEN WILL RISE AND START TO RAMPAGE.” “THE LIFE AND DEATH HOLDER’S LIFE WILL CLAIM.” “AND THE CLIMATE WILL GO ROUGH.” “BLOOD CONTAMINATES THE WATER.” “DESPERATION WILL BE THE SMELL OF WIND.” “THE HARVESTRY OF LIFE WILL BE IN DESTRUCTION YER.” “UNKINDLED THE FLAME AND BREAK THE SINNERS’ BIN.” “DARKNESS WILL SUCKS THE LIGHTS.” “AFRAID NOT, THE CHILD OF PROPECY WILL LIFT.”

Inside was a simple poem — Martin’s handwriting, a bit messy but warm: To Nana If one day I am gone, don’t mourn me too long. Carry on with laughter, because you are the reason I endured all this time. I entrust all the memories, in your ever-bright smile. Until we meet again... beneath the same sky, even if I am no longer by your side. Nana clutched the paper to her chest, tears falling one by one... while Edgar could only gaze at the empty night sky — remembering Martin, the friend who chose to die for him. - Meanwhile, Fredrick received reports that Harley and Edgar had escaped while his troops only managed to capture Martin, severely wounded.

The desert night air vibrated with their battle cry, a chilling omen of the destruction to come. In the darkness, their weapons at the ready, they awaited the dawn, their hearts burning with a fierce cry: "Victory or death!"