Can I come with you to happiness?
Can we make our own true bliss?
Because with you is my favorite place to be,
And your face is my one favorite thing to see.
Lets just leave, leave together.
We'll never be apart, we'll hold hands forever.
I'll hold you now, and never let go.
My heart beats for you, and it will never slow.
Please, lets run, run far away.
"I love you" Is all we'll ever need to say.
Do this one thing for me, it'll set my heart free.
Please, just run away, run away with me.
Okay, I know you guys aren't gonna read this,
I just needed somewhere to put it.
Thanks to Josh for a jillion and 12 ideas.
As quick as a swan is graceful, a man shot through the forest as if the trees were non-existant. He was breathing heavy, ignoring all but the men following close behind. He looked over his shoulder every few feet, and to his dismay, the men were gaining on him. They were dressed in dark blue robes baring a cult insignia of a sword engulfed in flames, with jet black scabbards hanging from each of their waists. He thought about turning back and fighting, but there were far too many of them; at least half a dozen men had their minds set on catching him, and he didn't exactly consider that to be a fair fight. In his mind, there were two options. He could either continue running and prolong his demise, or turn back for a futile, suicidal attempt at fighting the men.
He kept running.
After several more tireing minutes, his legs gradually started burning with pain, his fatigue soon getting the best of him. He started to slow down, and all hope was lost. He almost felt like turning around and surrendering right then and there, untill he saw a gleam of light up ahead. There was a trip-wire hidden in the emerald green grass, covered by leaves, from one tree across to another, just at shin height. A burst of joy mixed with adreniline filled him as he sprinted up ahead, faster than ever. He dove and rolled over the wire, trying his hardest to make it look inconspicuous. The men luckily didn't notice. The man in front, whose robe was a dark red, maroon colour instead of the navy the others wore, let lose a raspy laugh of triumph and charged forward with his sword un-shiethed. His laugh was cut short as he was crushed under the weight of a jagged stump. The leader of the group had been killed, and the rest of the men screeched to a stop, only to have their lungs pierced by a dozen arrows.
Scratching his head and blinking in astonishment, he couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. "Well, today must be my lucky day!" He said with a smug look on his face as he casually started walking out of the forest. He then reilised that someone (or something) had to be behind the brutal trap. It was about that time he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head, and his limp body collapsed to the mossy forest floor.
When he awoke, he was in quite a daze. He blinked a few times, and then tried to stand up, but was shocked to find he couldn't move either his arms or legs. He was bound by a thick rope made out of some kind of smooth green material and layed down beside an oak tree. His vision was still a little hazy, so he tried relying on his other senses. He could smell the burning of a fire, and he heard several men arguing about something. Then, to his surprise, a bucket of water was dumped over his head.
Like a thousand Christmas trees, the sky lit up with dancing bolts of lightning. It was still early in the evening, but the dark clouds blinded the sun, making it hard to see. At the same time, a man was pouring his heart into a piece of paper. The demonic crack of thunder afterwards made him leap from his chair. Sweeping up the papers that had fallen the the ground, he placed them back on his desk. Still shaking in surprise, the man hunched back over the papers. After a few more hours of thunder and lightning, the storm finally subsided. At that very moment, the man signed his paper "Always yours, Joseph.", bolder than the rest of the note. It was a love letter, one that he had written time and time again, desperatly attempting to make it the very best of its kind.
Joseph was not exactly considered rich or high class, but his enormous heart and cheerful disposition made him pleasant to be around. He'd spent most his life not caring what anyone thought of him, and he lived to make people happy. He was fortunate, for he was quite a handsome man, with short, jet black hair, a short pointed beard and shimmering blue eyes that looked like they were sapphires taken straight from the kings stash. The den of his home was filled to the brim with books of every sort, including several he'd written himself. Despite the fact that he was a scholar, he had a lot of free time on his hands, and more often than not he used the time to write. He was also a very modest individual, but with that came a certain shyness. When one of the townsfolk commented on what he was wearing or the way he looked, regardless if it was positive or negitive, he always turned bright red, and usually hunched over and walked away. Some people take it negatively, but those are only the people who can't call him a friend.
I started writing a story the other day,
And this is what I've got so far.
I'm open to any suggestions you guys have ^_^
Wadda ya think?
It's dark outside his window; the clouds are weeping.
He sits at his desk, mind too awake for sleeping.
With pen dipped in ink and paper in hand,
He writes, ideas plucked to the very last strand.
He steps over the limits of his ever growing mind,
Making every piece of work the best of its kind.
No one dares question his dreams turned to art,
The black ink is his blood, the paper his heart.
Words flow from his fingertips like water from a tap.
But he cannot find the right ones; he's lost without a map.
Paper filled with words of beauty and grace
None are the ones he needs, all out of place.
An eternity passes, his frown turns to a smile.
He's found the right words; They've been there all the while.
Three simple words sailed through his mind on a boat
He tore out a piece of paper; "I Love You." Is all he wrote.
Another Short one from Danny.
I'm thinking of adding one or two more stanzas;
I need some feedback.
Past Attempts Gone Terribly Wrong,
Fallen Angels Try to Sing a Song.
As They Float on Their Withered Wings,
They Weep as the Find They Cannot Sing.
Never to be Heard, Never to be Seen
The Angels Wonder; "What Could This Mean?
Has All Hope Left us, Here and Now?
Have We Left the Stage Without a Bow?"
Though Many Questions are Left Unanswered,
The Angels Keep Trying, Their Hope Unhindered.
Their Beauty May Have Left Them Forever,
But They Still Float on, Wings all but Severed.
Just a sad little poem I wrote in math XD
Haha, tell me whatcha think of it,
And maybe what kind of message it's sending to you :P
Blindfold My Eyes and Toss Me Aside.
Lost and Forgotten, I'm Nothing Now.
Stripped Bare, I have nothing to Hide.
My Breath is All That's Left, My Last Gift to Give.
Broken Glass and Countless Red Stains,
Why is There Blood Running Down the Drain?
You Told Me It's Okay, That Everything Would be Alright,
Now That You're Gone, I've Lost My Last Fight.
You Said You Cared, That You'd Always Be There.
So Where are you now? Lost And Forgotten I'll Stay.
It's Okay, I'm Better off on My Own Anyway.
Why'd You go and Die? If You Have the Answer, Please Share.
You Were My Life, And Now on The Ground You Lie.
The Truth is I'm Afraid. Afraid That I'll Die.
I'd Lie Here Dead, On the Ground With You
Just Leave me Alone, I'll Find A Way Through.
Some Lyrics I'm Working on...