Real Monsters

Deepak Singh Solanki

Sometimes I get ashamed of my thoughts, cause as a human, I too get this curse or gift I don't know. Sometimes I get blamed, they say 'is that what you were taught'. Cause they judge me by my words and social appearance, and I say no. But I don't aware them of real monsters, cause I think they like fiction more. They call me mad cause I don't use coasters, they are more worried about the table that costs more. Costs more than most of humanity, where is that guy told that money can't buy everything? Oh, he was just acting. Now he is relaxing in his vanity, to be at the top, they would do anything. - Deepak Singh Solanki My IG - @life.is.a.great.story

2020-04-15 12:26:28

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JENOVA JACKSON CHASE

Umm poem tells a whole story... Good writing.

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2020-04-16 16:01:20

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Question 1?/Вопрос 1?

shadowlinxxx morgan

The girl that questions everything,is a girl that needs many answers.She wanders the earth trying to find the person that can answer her many queries.Everthing she writes has a hidden question that makes her heart ache and her head hurt.She spends days writing sad story's that she forgets her sad life.Shes in a painful story that never ends,she's in a story that writes itself.The pages in the book were filled ever so easy,because her heart wrote it for her.She spent her life being afraid,that's what made it so boring.Finding her passion was easy,but fulfilling it was the hardest part of all.Her writing may be boring and sad,but it's what keeps her sane. "She had all the questions in the word,and he had all the answers." Lillian xx

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Я граю лише уві снах...

Nadine Tikhonovitch

Я граю лише уві снах, Гітару, мов тебе, обіймаю, І пісня стара на вустах, Що в серці болем лунає. Я граю лише уві снах, Мелодію, давно що забута, І печаль в блакитних очах — Мій жах і муза, мій смуток. Я граю лише для тебе, Хоч знаю, що плід ти уяви, І біль губить нестерпний — Я гину, а пісня лунає... Я граю мелодію ніжну Та бігти хочеться геть, Як чую солодку я пісню: Вона нагадає про смерть... Бо вона серце зворушить І змусить згадати тебе, Ну нащо грати я мушу І палати мертвим вогнем? Поховавши, я присяглася, Що забута гітара — ось так, Бо пісня для тебе лилася... Я граю лише уві снах...

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