OnikisuWasuremono

I remember the first time I met you through a friend and immediately found you quirky. I remember when I started to enjoy your company. I remember my first recognition that you were artistic. I remember growing fond of you. I also remember trying to convince myself not to fall in love again. I remember trying to find a flaw so I could keep my heart hidden. I remember the feeling of my heart begging to be seen. I remember the way my head buzzed when I started to shyly flirt with you to test the water. I remember how my heart jumped when I learned you were sincerely flirting back. I remember how I waited excitedly to have you pop up.

It's dark and I'm alone. I feel crippled and lost. Trying to run from the fear, To any and all cost. Turning around to face the monster, I can't see, can't look. I can't open my eyes, no no. I can't open the book. Is it that I can't or that I won't? It'll hurt, tear me apart. This darkness, monster that lurks, Deep in my heart. But look in the mirror, What, child do you see? When I look in the mirror... All I see is me.

The armor was heavy on his shoulders as he covered the last few steps up his watch post. The grass underfoot as he came to a stop at the top of the cliff that overlooked this valley.  As a heavy sigh drew his lips he, reached forth and set his shield driven deep into the earth of the ledge, careful still to avoid the edge. Only then did he remove the heavy steel helmet, grasping it by the eyeholes and let his arm drop to his side. Now that Clockwork's hair was no longer held still by the form of the helmet, the neck length silver locks of short wavy hair bristled gently at the breeze from the height. The lights of the city bustling in the ni

 This would mark the only other time Art had ever been knocked unconscious by someone else in his entire life. Strange enough that he would begin to relive an old memory, of course it had to be about the only other time he was knocked unconscious. It was with his had when he was being taught a simple concussive force spell. His father was so sincere and patient. Art should have known better though, his dad was a major prankster. "Alright Art," began his father, "because of the spells low accuracy based on being a spread shot spell. You need to catch the opponent quickly, or even better off guard." Art had already spent the better half of

I haven't told you yet, in my very special way. How cold it is here have I? The life of a man quick beating and exciting, So what a wonder it is when we are tripped and forced to slow. A new world opens to us a slow and beautiful one at that. For mere moments we lie in appreciation before the body needs to stand once more. Whisking us off again to pass the world by. I've been tripped. What's better is I've been tethered. Trapped and held in this slow pace. What a scandalous beauty has capture me this time. How secure is her net over me that I may never want to escape or speed up again. Such a glorious fall, what a glittering cage.

I have long since wondered why the children hide as they play, Quickly do they paint their masks and wear them so proud, no matter how much the face within rots behind that colorful mask, none attention is it paid! The masks they cry while giggling is heard and dancing but stuck in stone so still, never has a canvas been so used butchered and loved as the mask the mirror of the now, that I find myself wondering, what is my mask. Beyond my scowl.

 What a calamity I've seen! On this soft stone, what such scars have been made. Weeping is this marred canvas, the paint still comes but fading alas. The paint fills these scars and gone they will be, Oh what a calamity I have seen!

The man he was true, always true would be. His deceit was also covered, always covered oh yes. He lied with his truths, but how sparkling it was!

As he fell he was laughing. Laughing, Laughing, As I was shot I was laughing, laughing, laughing, As she burned she was laughing, laughing, laughing, As we shared we were dying. Grasping. Dead.