I am a fool for love songs;
I love getting mail(especially from people I love).
(& I'm not who you think I am).
I am here to be a better person.
for those who don't recognise it, my icon is a picture of Orion
love birthed a white knightbut you're small and you're afraidlove birthed a white knight by underorion
grey wolf fur and bright fangs
watch him walk, away
and just think back
there's a day, somewhere there
wrapped in the wind's embrace
then held, in warmth and light
when you were a firefly
you're happier, now healing
white knight brought into being
in attempt to slay that inner dark
words bled onto the page now
torn from your wounded heart
the felidae sings quietly
to call poor canis back
blackbirds calls you softly
pack-brother tugs your scruff
you rise, and walk
grey-heart, wolf-mindI am a grey-furredgrey-heart, wolf-mind by underorion
loyalty; with a small breath of
you see me pass
you by, walk the streets
bound in chains
fogged by memories and a lash
I will heed you. I will defend.
Death"Do you fear death?"Death by UntamedUnwanted
The question loomed in the air before my body, as if a sword looming over someone almost conquered by their enemy. But I looked down at my hands and then back up, only to say, "Have you ever felt the pain of watching two lovers embrace at the end of a movie? It's supposed to be a happy ending. But your heart tells your lungs to stop breathing for just a minute because it will never ever be yours."
"Do you fear death?"
A question repeated deserves an answer. But instead, my trembling hands sat clenched on my lap, the blue ink like veins showing through the frail covering that might rip apart any second. "Do you know what it's like to wake up in the middle of the night to hear a song, just to remind yourself, you're going to be all right? Over and over again until it doesn't work anymore."
"Do you fear death?"
The invisible chain linked through my fingers, and I closed my tired eyes, this time, hearing the impatience in th
Just HandsSometimes when I write, I pause to study my hands. It isn't the long pianist's fingers I see first. It's not the man cut, chewed up nails. Or the fact that the middle finger on my right hand sometimes gets a ghosting pain that I have never understood.Just Hands by UntamedUnwanted
(Arthritis plagues my family. I'd rather not understand the pain. Cowardice is a bitter pill to swallow.)
It's the stains of ink that I notice. Black, running into bruised bluish purple on the intersections. Those are the older marks. The newer ones are black that looks un natural wherever it lands. It makes me think of the eighteenth century, of Austen when she wrote. Or maybe, of darker times. When they used to burn people for writing the truth.
(They still do. I just don't like to acknowledge it.)
White estuaries, gashes almost, run along the fingers, at certain, brief, broken points. Beginning and ending, just as abruptly. Some of them, I wear as badges, as the spoils of a war from my childhood. Others I hide in shame. They are more r
Gateway"Do you know what victory is?" asked a soft voice behind her.Gateway by UntamedUnwanted
The girl with the broken eyes didn't look up. She couldn't. She didn't want to. Her whole body was tattooed with the rain that had started hours before, her hair dripping with the sky's tears. She hadn't wanted to dry the sorrow of the weather from her skin; for fear that someone would see her own.
"I asked, do you know what victory is?" The voice was soft, but strong. And there was something about it that reminded her that she needed to pay attention.
She still didn't speak and a disappointed sigh came from the voice. It was as if the rain had stolen her voice.
"Victory is, when you lay awake at night and pray for the sanity of others rather than yourself. It's when that broken heart which has tormented you, heals you instead. It's when you learn to forgive yourself for your past and look forward to the future."
The tears hadn't stopped yet. They made their way down her face like lifeless little
ColoursWhen I am honest, I sense blue.Colours by UntamedUnwanted
When I am happy, I feel red.
When I am mischievous, I smirk purple.
When I am nervous, I quake crimson
When I am angry, I glower black.
When I am content, I shine orange.
When I am afraid, I tremble yellow.
When I am envious, I burn green.
When I am brave, I blaze white.
And if I had eyes to see the rainbow I feel
Then maybe I would glow pink too.