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Yuki MonatoYuki Monato
It was a busy day at the hospital as a mother was giving birth, the soon to be boss of Team Rocket, Giovanni sat by his wife side. There soon came a wailing cry of a baby.
“Congratulations, it’s a girl!” the doctor said as he cut the cord. A nurse came and cleaned her up when the mother started to have breathing trouble. “Get the baby to the baby room and Mrs. Monato we need you to stand in the hall.” The doctor said quickly trying to stabilize the woman. Giovanni stood against the wall looking worried. ‘Please Geena, be ok.’ He pleaded in his mind.
~1 hour later~
The door opened to revile a tired doctor. He looked at Giovanni with sadness in his eyes.
“I’m sorry…there was nothing we could do…”He said and Giovanni cried. ‘NO! WHY DID THIS HAPPEN?’ he screamed in his head. “I am sorry for your loss.
Giovanni left the hospital with a small bundle in his arms. His baby girl
Can Someone Save a Hero?Do you ever feel like your world is crumbling, but all you can do is smile?
Your there for everyone, but no ones there for you?
Can someone save a hero when she feels down?
She always save the day with her strength and seems unharmed,
But she’s breaking every minute of the day.
Too afraid to be herself,
Too afraid to speak out load,
Too afraid of being hurt.
Can someone save her?
Save a hero?
Or will she be alone and broken forever.
Halo and Friends Ch. 1Ch1 Fox Meets Wolf
In the Pillar of Autumn’s bridge a girl in light and dark blue Mark 6 Spartan suit waited for her orders. The sounds of battle can be heard out and in side the ship. Then another Spartan in green mark 5 armor came in, this was Master Chief.
“Thank you for coming and welcome back Chief.” A man in a white commander/captain suit, this was Captain Keyes.
“Thank you sir.” Chief answered as he stood next to the girl Spartan.
“Cortana did her best but we never stood a chance.” The captain said as a hologram of a woman popped up.
“A dozen superior battle ship against a single halcyon-class cruiser, with those odds I'm content with three...make that four kills. Sleep well?” Cortana said.
“No thanks to your driving, yes.” Chief answered.
“So you did miss me.” The ship shook and lights flickered on and off. The blue Spartan almost fell forward.
“Report!” the captain said.
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
Ideationlocked in a room
with only one escape,
or so it seems.
your hands shake and you drop the key.
Suddenly you're unsure.
Do I want to pick it up?
Do I want to find it?
Do I want to leave?
you think to yourself
there's no other choice.
find the key or corrode, or rust
wear down the hinge
use sadness as the key.
You have the answer now.
Just open the door.
Just walk outside and don't look back.
Let yourself leave with no regrets.
And yet you can't.
You're afraid, you think,
but you are actually strong.
Don't run away.
Don't take that leap.
Secrets so big that the world would be in danger.
You say I am an open book,
But you will find there is more to me.
Hidden in the shadow is my past,
And my future.
I must remain alone,
So no one gets hurt.
I cannot love,
Or have friends.
I fight for the world,
My secrets aren't to be heard.
I will fight for all,
Not for me.
This is my act.
No one can tell the real me.
It is better this way.
Even if it hurts,
It is for your safety.
I am the hidden shadow.
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More