HollySheep

I will put you in a glass tube, Filled with green colored bubbly water, To preserve your form for all eternity, Forever young. I will put your lifeless form into an open casket, Hidden deep within my home, So I could come and look at your lovely face All night long. I will put your living form into a blood red frame, Hanging low above my pillow, So I will wake to see your never changing face, Every day. I will carve your being into my head, Like a murderer carves into his victims' bodies, With silver knifes, Forever sharp. I will resort to means I hate, Just to make sure, I won't forget that you were there, I'll remember.

"Isabella, Isabella!" The angry looking woman called over and over to her daughter, who was shut in her room with her door closed. When she finally caught up to the fact her mother was calling for her, and opened the door, the angry looking woman became furious. "Isabella!" the mother called once, as if it was enough to do so. "What, mom?" the daughter sighed loudly, starting to play uncomfortably with her mahogany hair as she did. This was bound to get long, and she wanted to go back to her room already. There were so many things to think about… mostly 'him', though. "Do you know what Mrs. Fningnstone tells me today?!" she half shout

Goody Two Shoe(?) They call me a goody two shoes because I never use swears. It's true, I don't. When a curse escapes my lips, it just sounds so horribly wrong, filthy and unpleasant in my mouth. Does it make me a goody two shoes, though, when only swears from my own language cause me such reaction? Try me with any other, and I could curse you to oblivion. But of course, you can't see that. You can't see me, so why would you see my darker side? They call me a goody two shoes because I respect my elders and I think teachers are people you should honor, at the very least with your minimum attention as they're trying to lesson you in your pub

My Heart is Not Your Castle, My Heart is Not a Home They say you have to bare your heart to truly love, But my heart is not a place to brag about. It's black. I don't have a castle to show you, But a rotten mansion, long abandoned, With blocked, glassless windows, And a peeling wooden door hanging by one nearly falling hinge, Broken boards for a floor, And a staircase with holes my legs once fall through, And I never really got out off. With empty room covered by old, crumbling wallpapers, Of fairies and unicorns and the sea and something that was once a drawing of Winnie-the-Pooh, From when I was young, innocent, and full of

Will eventually turn into sanity.

Hello my flower How are you today? You seem to be growing well Is it because the love you get? I'm trying to give you it all Because they say the best way to nurture a flower On your own Is if you make sure that it knows Someone is waiting here for it to bloom Someone watches as it grows Someone waters it with care And waits for it show. Or might it be because you are your own sun So you don't need any additional light You can grow your stalk even in here You can live in this total darkness And still be seen. And still glitter like the star you are, For me. And your roots go deeper than anything To the depth of the ocean,