My Prince?

I only wanted to honor you

With a word, or good deed

Seems I chose the latter

And you’re watching me bleed

 

They said you’d be the one

To never return home

But yet here on the sand

I go like I had come

 

You never dulled

Not in the slightest

I always wondered

How your hair was the brightest

 

Your evergreen eyes

Still hold that sparkle

Even grief

Won’t turn them to marble

 

They’ll marvel at your works

And they’ll want you dead

You’re a treasure my dear,

Just like they said

 

Maybe I didn’t want to believe

Things would end this way

A blow to the core

And an arrow like a blade

 

Only nights before

I dreamt something sweet

But that’s what dreams are

Life isn’t as neat

 

You were always too trusting

But never a bore

Many eyes would cry for you

But for me there was no more

 

I’ll miss you my prince

And I’ll wait for the day

That you will return to me

Think of the games we’ll play

 

Let historians think of us

And remember us too

They’ll write our story wrong

They always do

 

But we live by the truth,

Don’t deceive it

Those who have eyes to see

Will believe it

 

I only meant to honor you

But you already know that

I’m proud of your smile

“So where should we start at,

 

My prince?”

 

Author’s Note:

So recently I’ve been reading some beautiful historical fiction pieces that I have grown to love and adore. This very writing is based off of a certain pair during the time of Troy. One was said to be the son of a goddess with bright shining hair, the other an exiled prince. Sorry to anyone who was spoiled by this poem but I had to write it. If anyone can guess it I will be super excited and once I’m completely done I will do a review on this book cause it deserves so much love. So with that, Enjoy!

~Hails~

Advertisements

Support Group – part 2

2. July 23, 2002

I had taken a “shortcut” to school after a few blocks of watching them walk with small talk swirling around them. The one bad part about the shortcut was I would have to pass through some forestry in which you had to watch your back a lot because it was so dense with trees and vegetation the outside world was hesitant to check for mysterious disappearances if they had anything to do with the area.

I, unlike most of the town, knew that the woods weren’t that dangerous. It was actually quite beautiful this time of year. The sun would hit the tiny creek and shimmers of light would dance across the variety of colored skin on the trees, which made them beautiful in themselves. 

I was losing track of time and somehow missed the sound of an incoming intruder of my thoughts when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I reached into my back pocket in a flash and held up my secret pocketknife and flicked it open as I turned quickly to face my opponent. Silently I prayed that I would live to see the light one last time, but then when I realized who the intruder was I lowered my knife but held a defensive stance.

William Bradley, whom I like to call “sparkle” for his bright blue-gray eyes. His hair was showing a little more brown in color today compared to the usual black. His stance was normal from what I could tell, it wasn’t as if he would hurt me anyways. I had known him for years, not as if we were friends or anything, just acquaintances.

As I flicked the knife back into it’s non-stab-ready place, and he put his hands back down at his sides. I motioned for him to speak but he didn’t get it. That was typical though, boys usually don’t understand body language let alone hand signals. 

“You have the right to speak,” I said leaning against a tree, while placing the knife into my back pocket again. 

At first he kind of spaced off and then made eye contact. When he finally opened his mouth to speak I cut him off knowing what was to come. “Don’t beat around the bush Will.”

He stood defensive again, “How do you know what I’m gonna say,” his eyes narrowed.

“It’s the look in your eyes, usually when people are going to try to avoid the actual subject they try to find something in their field of view to distract themselves with before speaking. You just spaced off to find an object.”

“You and your scientific reasoning for everything… you got that from tumblr or something didn’t you?”

I blushed lightly, “maybe a little bit…” I trailed off. For a second I thought he was going to tell me something like it wasn’t real or make fun of me but instead he just laughed lightly, and honestly I couldn’t help but laugh a little either. It was nice, I hadn’t laughed at anything actually funny for a while. It’s not like I have tons of friends, but I had known him for years so it wasn’t weird. The strange part of it was that we still go to the same church and the same school yet we hadn’t said a word to each other in probably over a year. Funny how time flies when we don’t even realize what day it is.

I turned back to him a smile still playing on his lips. “So, what did you come here for anyways?”

My tone stayed light, but his face fell almost immediately. I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong but instead he cut me off.

“I saw you hide behind my bushes this morning, actually I’ve been watching you go by for the past four months now, please don’t get mad at me, but I know ‘bout your secret.”

I could feel my face turning more red as his words made his way into my head, and I think it was showing soon because he started up again, “no, no, don’t get upset, it’s really ok, I mean I’m totally cool with it actually I was gonna tell your this sooner or later-”

“You know? No you can’t know…. No, no,” I shook my head in frustration, I was so careful, or maybe I just thought I was.

“Yes I know about-”

“Don’t say it,” I whispered. 

And then I ran.

Support Group – part 1

  1. Name: Elouise Clarissa Burkam

I didn’t ask for this but I got it. It wasn’t my fault I was different so don’t judge me. I was born like this so I don’t know why people say its because it’s “convenient”. And so what? Screw you if you think I just wanted attention. I didn’t want that, but what I did want was acceptance. Never mind that, its not like anything would change if I stood up for myself. I remember the little things, not that it would get me very far. I remember the smell of the room in which I last saw my grandparents. I remember the first five notes to the song I heard being played by the man at the piano in the mall last weekend. I remember the color of the neighbor boy’s favorite scarf. I remember that every sunset had a pattern. I remember the very words the rich woman used seven years ago to describe the lemonade I was selling after she spit it out into my face. But none of it matters. It will never matter. Because no matter how much you think you know about me, I will never have the strength to let you in and see me for me.

I looked down at my keyboard for what seemed like seconds but it must have been longer because when I looked up, the screen to my Mac was black and I was forced to look into my own eyes. Long dull eye lashes attempted to cover the self-hating gaze at myself. I wish things were easier but they aren’t. I thought to myself that school would be better tomorrow. 

When I woke up, I realized my alarm had not gone off yet. “Stupid thing, you never work,” I mumbled and knocked the small object to the ground. It landed with it’s face on the floor, and I didn’t care if it had cracked. 

I was too tired these days to care about much. My life was too busy with thoughts to worry about extra curricular activities. Hint hint, thoughts, not a hobby or any free time, just thoughts. And I hated my life for it.

I usually walk myself to school but to be honest its not for personal enjoyment. Well, maybe more for entertainment. “Tall boy” and “Model Material” live on the street I take to get to school. They’re both new to this town, both showing up within the past four months. Of course their names weren’t really Tall Boy and Model Material, they just fit their nicknames. Not that they knew they even had nicknames. Tall boy’s real name is Adrien, and Model Material’s, Genevieve (or Gen). They seemed to get along quite well and I with them, but they didn’t know I walked past their houses every morning. Just that I was their tour guide for their first day. 

It was March now and they still walked with me to classes and sat with me at lunch with my friend Callie. I am fifteen now and even though I had a learner’s permit I chose not to drive with my parents to school. I guess if I did eventually get a car I could drive all three of them. I wonder if they would appreciate it as much as I would.

I’m surprised that they haven’t found more friends at this point, I mean both of them seem like they would hang out with more popular or appealing people. I don’t mean to stereotype them or anything but I mean they’re gorgeous, we look like the human version of the phrase “plain and simple”.

I was just on time because they were ahead of me across the street from each other, and slowly walking down their driveways. I was on the sidewalk on the right side of the road where Tall Boy’s house was. He got to the sidewalk first, walking into the early sunshine, his hair shown gold. When he almost turned around I dashed behind one of his neighbor’s bushes. Peeking past a few unpruned branches I saw Model Material with her luscious light brown curls bouncing, running across the street to Tall Boy till she was close enough to punch him lightly on the arm. I wished more than anything in the world to tell them… But that was still my secret.

Free Write #2

September 14, 2018

-Excerpt from a book I was writing at the time-

 

I didn’t know what was happening. My vision was blurry in a crystallized form, my stomach was turning and sweat drenched my face. I rolled of the covers in a hurry, rushing myself towards the bathroom. My face was getting hotter by the second, so in a rush I flung myself towards the toilet in hope to get rid of being lightheaded. My body ached with unknown pains that I did not recognize. With that I started to shake but when I attempted to calm the now violent tremors, nothing worked. As my body ruthlessly disobeyed my eager thoughts, I tried to cry out but no words would form. It was a stupid mistake to think for a second that this nightmare would end. I would forever be the stupid girl who couldn’t finish it off. Finally I could hear my heart slow from its loud and tremendously high pace until it was at a normal hum.

I blinked a couple times and my vision restored itself back to normal. I shook my head in confusion. Maybe this is all just a dream, I thought .to myself. I stood up and as I walked to my bedroom again I said aloud, “Nothing is the matter, get control of yourself. Probably a stupid dream.” With a sluggish and exhausted twelve steps, I walked to my bed and fell with a plop. “Tomorrow will be different,” I mumbled, “no one has to know.” Sleep hit me quickly and I was enveloped by a thick cloud of soft darkness. It wasn’t until bright light shone at my eyes that I woke up. Slowly my hearing returned and I could hear hollering from the other side of my door. My mother, or course. I looked over at my alarm clock. 7:35 a.m. The sun was peeking in through my window right into my eyes. I pushed off my covers and walked to my door and jiggled the handle. “Funny, I thought I unlocked that last night.”

I listened through the door, but could only hear my little brother trying to reason with my angry mother. I heard her stomp off and a few seconds later I heard him messing with my room door handle. The door slowly opened and he jumped when I met him face to face at the opening. I raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing. His expression changed, “Hey, why didn’t you just-,” his voice trailed off as he looked towards the other side of my room by my bed. I waved my hand in front of his face and mumbled, sleep still coating my voice, “hey, kid.”

His eyes slowly met mine. “Hey, um, why are there two of you in here?”

That’s the moment when I realized, that nightmare wasn’t just a bad dream. It was much more. And I finished it, yet everyone would know.

 

Author’s note:

Just so I don’t get questions about this later, the plot of the story was two siblings who didn’t get along at all (for their own reasons) get stuck together in the strangest ways. The older sister is struggling with depression and blames her little brother because he was the favorite child. She steals some of her friend’s dad’s various pills from a sleepover so that way her parent’s can’t tell what she’s planning. She decides to plan out her death when her brother comes in to interview her for a homework project. The sister reluctantly complies with his wishes and they get talking about things. She confesses why she really hates him, but when the brother gets defensive the older sister out of anger kicks him out and locks the door. She pulls out the pills and shoves them in her mouth before she can look back. That night she wakes up to what she believes is a bad aftermath of taking the pills and runs to the bathroom, but when she wakes up she finds the door still locked from the night before. When the brother uses a spare key he had found earlier to open her room, he finds his sister both standing in front of him and lying dead from her sleep. After short and rushed explanations, the brother cries for help so that his parents may find her but the sister notices that her parents can only see the other version of her.

She is connected to him by spirit and is forced to see how rough his everyday life is as a special kid. As she realizes what kind of life he has been living she begins to understand more. And in return she opens up to him too, yet little do they know that time is cut short at the worst of times.

Free Write #1

October 25, 2018

The air was cool, the tiny droplets piercing through the cool soft layers with sharp penetration. Usually I don’t mind rain. When I was little I would stand out on my open driveway letting the gentle droplets glide down my bare skin. I would stay like this for as long as I could before someone would call me in. Today was not one of those days. For I have grown too old for child’s play, you see. And these droplets, who used to be soft and gentle, were now sharp and rough. You couldn’t escape the cold wet feeling, now matter how hard you tried to push it away.

I wish I could go back to those days when I was a kid. Before I could understand loss and hate, and everything in between. For the have ruined me. I wish I could go back before everything that has turned from happy to sad had morphed to it’s new appearance. I wish I was younger. To go back to the bolder kid I used to be. No stress or worries looming to surround me.

I wish for one day I could feel that rain again, and let it wash me clean. So that maybe I could go back to the person I used to be.

 

Normal

Ever since I was little I’ve been told I wasn’t normal

As if there was a definition to normal at all,

Most would hide from the title monster,

While I embraced it and took it as my own,

No don’t worry I don’t hide in your closet at night,

Or stalk you in the streets downtown,

I am human after all, we all are right?

But the title wasn’t what worried me,

It was who people saw me as on the outside,

You see there’s no clue to being normal,

So what life are you leaving behind.

In the daily lives we live today, many are too afraid of judgement,

And they have every right to be because we all fear harassment.

What is the definition of normal might I ask,

Or maybe more specifically, what is yours?

If we all go talking about people behind their backs,

What are we expecting to happen behind our walls?

Normal isn’t popularity of a certain social group,

It isn’t being tough enough on the outside to keep up with our fellow peers,

It isn’t being able to stay within the loop,

Or never changing through the years.

Normal isn’t a reality,

Normal is a fake,

And the sooner we all get this into our brains,

For goodness sake! We could be free!

Think to yourself all of the things you could of been,

But didn’t because it didn’t fit in the category of Normal.

 

You don’t have to be the person people want you to be,

You’re free to be who you please,

But if it came down to it,

I hope that you’ll choose to make a difference in other people’s lives as you’ll do with your own,

Because not everyone knows they don’t have to be normal…

So let’s show them.

Naomi’s Poem

I ask the questions,

You give me an answer

Am I innocent or am I guilty?

Seems like that’s everybody’s

Million dollar question.

Step up to the plate,

It’s your turn to play,

I don’t care if you don’t like it,

Let the ball land where it may.

My feet are getting tired,

You get your sleep, your rest

But from what I can last recall,

You’ve outrun me,

And I’m standing on my last edge.

You think you’re better,

But I know more than to believe it.

I’m so done with all your accusations!

Stop chasing me! I won’t give you the answer you want,

Because I don’t believe it.

So what’s the point in saying it aloud,

We both know I’d be breaking my vow,

Not against you,

But God himself.

Don’t mess with that, because that will have worse consequences,

And you know it.

Hazel’s Poem

Broken mirror, Broken mirror,

Staring from the wall,

Can’t you see what it’s doing to me?

I’m scared that I may fall.

 

Hateful mirror, Hateful mirror,

Scornfully looking down

You think you know what’s always best

But you don’t know much at all.

 

And here I’m standing,

On this open gravel road

If a monster does come out for me,

Then there’s no reason to call.

 

I’m beaten up and broken down,

From the mirrors broken shards,

So if I’m gone before you wake,

Then from the other side, I’ll watch you crawl.

 

You’ve made a big mistake,

And my body is now yours to haul.