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UnbreakableYour words are like glass.
Giving false hope.
For with the slightest pressure,
Shards and pieces,
Ripping me apart
Killing me slowly.
And that which seemed unbreakable,
With its beauty and indestructibility,
Leaving me with nothing
Nothing to lean on
Nothing to trust
Nothing to support me
Leaving me to fall
Fall to the end.
And for what is left,
I will always remember the beauty,
The beauty of the glass.
The beauty that betrayed me.
Happy EndingsI hit the ground hard as I fell to my knees, tired of running. I know they're right there behind me, but I don't care. Not anymore. I've fought until I don't have any fight left in me. One can only be an insurgent for so long.
I can hear the sounds behind me. The pounding of the heavy boots, the deep, harsh calls of one man to another. Everything around me seemed to slow down, probably from the adrenaline. Every second seemed to pass as though it were a minute though I knew I had only minutes left.
I have never really believed in the whole 'life flashing before your eyes' thing, but now, I really do see everything. I remember being eleven, and tying ribbons in my baby sister's pale blond curls just before school. I remember defending my little brothers love of reading, taking hits to the eyes and nose, just because girls were inferior and weren't supposed to be strong or brave. I see my older brother, raising me, teaching me about life, and ways to make the most of our famil
The Sixth Decision for SuccessAs Michael’s head swam, he closed his eyes. He almost didn’t want to leave Anne’s room. The pictures on her wall brought tears to his eyes. She was younger than him, but she still wanted so much out of life, where he had been ready to give his own away. He sat down; keeping his eyes closed, and rested his head in his hands. Maybe to be happy, he needed to let everything out first.
Michael sat like that for the longest time. Maybe he hadn’t even left Anne’s room yet. But as he opened his eyes, he realized Amsterdam was long gone. He tried to stand, but another wave of nausea hit him. He squeezed his eyes closed as he slowly got to his feet and regained balance. Once he finally managed to open his eyes, he was slightly shocked by what he saw. It was not a battlefield, it was not the Santa Maria, it was not even the office of President Truman.
Michael was in a dingy room not too much bigger than the central room Anne had shared. This was a plain room, but it
Blue Eyes in FlamesWhen the prince sees the flower bloom from the palm of her hand, he orders her arrest.
She is only seven years old.
He takes the flower from her and keeps it, even though he knows he shouldn't. He puts it a vase, or, rather, his servant does that for him. The flower doesn't ever die, even years later.
It's dawn of a December morning, and he's cold. But still, he stands next to his father dutifully and looks at the little girl with blue eyes that are now black from seven nights sleeping on a cold, dungeon floor behind bars. They cut off her dark brown hair during that time. She's tied to the pyre, and there are seven guards around her, holding sharper swords than normal, not that she could get away. There's one man dressed in black holding an unlit torch, with a mask over his face to prevent his death. His father raises his arm, and the torch is lit.
She locks her gaze to his, and he blinks at her. It's like she expects him to prevent it. He couldn't, though, he can't. She scares him, w
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More