Novel & Cerita Sad Poetry Books

Now I'm sensitive, worn out, and covered in cum. Best birthday ever!

Morning light hit the glass façade of Sicilian Heights like fire. The entire campus looked like something out of a magazine, luxury cars lined up by the fountain, designer shoes tapping over marble steps, and laughter that somehow sounded expensive. I was learning quickly that this wasn’t an ordinary university. It was a kingdom of power, where names carried more weight than degrees. Chiara looped her arm through mine as we walked toward the café. “First rule of Sicilian Heights,” she said. “Never drink the machine coffee. It tastes like regret.”

BIOGRAPHY Mercedes M. Yardley is a dark fantasist who wears stilettos, red lipstick, and poisonous flowers in her hair. She is the author of the short story collection Beautiful Sorrows, the novellas Apocalyptic Montessa and Nuclear Lulu: A Tale of Atomic Love and Little Dead Red, and the novels Nameless: The Darkness Comes and Pretty Little Dead Girls: A Novel of Murder and Whimsy. She often speaks at conferences and teaches workshops on several subjects, including personal branding and how to write a novel in stolen moments. Mercedes lives and works in Sin City with her family and menagerie of Strange and Unusual Pets. You can reach her at www.abrokenlaptop.com.

I have never had big dreams of becoming a CEO who owns companies. I think that I achieved my dream, I wrote a book, not a book, but a collection of pathetic poems about life. When I say pathetic, I mean sad, because sad is all that my life has ever been. But I guess that nothing lasts for one hundred years, and I am one of them. I enjoyed some parts of my life, the earlier parts and some parts of my later life too. My life has always been between pages in a book, that is all. I have always enjoyed art, manipulated it behind closed doors. It’s not an interesting life, though it is a favorite for me. My favorite story is Africa Kills her Sun, by Ken Saro Wiwa, I have read the story ever since

Bernice cried, "Mom and Dad are gone." "It's impossible!" Dylan exploded in anger. He denied it as he rushed from room to room, shouting, "You're all just pretending! When I left, Mom and Dad were perfectly fine. How could they suddenly be gone?" Bernice shook her head. "Why don't you believe me? Mom and Dad are truly gone. They were poisoned to death. The doctor said that they kept calling our names before they passed. We're not worthy of being their children." Andrew and Sally were the best parents in the world and had devoted everything to Dylan and Bernice.

Then I turn to the next page, WHAT IS NOT ALLOWED: -ANYTHING THAT DESTROYS THE PLANET -PEOPLE SPREADING HATRED It’s that simple :) PLACES ON PLANET EARTH THAT ARE SO PRETTY THEY SHOULD BE PUT IN SADIE’S WORLD: -All the bookstores and music stores there is -Sky Ranch -Callao Cave -Every art museum there is -Barasoain Church -The whole of Baguio city This is one heck of a list, I thought to myself. She was really serious about making a new planet. I hate to think that if someone saw this, they'd probably make fun of her since children mostly do these types of things, but knowing who Sadie is and hearing about her new 'planet speech', I understand her and why this exists. More than that: I appr

She had a bad feeling about this, and she instinctively sent a message to her friends' group chat. [He left the country and deleted all my contact information.] The group chat exploded at once. Claire did not say who "he" was, but all her friends knew she meant me. [Did he suddenly come to his senses? Is he finally giving up on you?] [That's a good thing. Weren't you having a headache on how to get rid of him? Now that he's gone, you don't have to waste your time on it anymore. He probably realized he was too useless to you and was too ashamed to see you.]

Though I'm confuse, I casually said, “This wondrous of a place usually empty. People forgot to pay a visit or to even got themselves immerse to the world that this wondrous of a place offer them with sincerity. I thought you are highly affected by such a failure of showing gratitude to literature coming from them?” His eyes couldn't actually intimidating but there's a melancholy that I didn't expected to seen. My statement just now goes awakwardly, and I chuckled as that to forgot my place on this unknown and strange of a place. I cough and turn my head to the shelf that offer a variety of book that looks bloody yet comforting. “Oh,” I gasped, not able to hide my awed. “That's a classic...”

Damon's POV I was staring at the book lying on the floor, its leather cover was already cracking from the spine given how often I’d gripped it. It looked so harmless sitting there, but every page seemed like a wound. Every line was my darkness. I had written it in the quiet hours when sleep refused to come, when my thoughts were louder than my heartbeat, when I wished for the kind of silence that only death could give. All of it, my despair, my loneliness, my longing to disappear, was right there, in black ink. And now Sabrina had seen it.

I held on to the railings and looked up to the sky. “I’m missing you again,” I said and let myself cry the agony I’m feeling. I sat on the floor, still weeping about the sadness I'm constantly feeling. “Why does it have to be you!” I shouted while crying. Do I need to be like this every night? Do I have to bring this feeling every single day? When will this stop? I’m too tired to survive. I feel like I can’t do this anymore. A cold wind brushed in my skin. Hugging my sorrows. Washing my agony. Slowly changing them into bravery.