When I die,
And my flesh and bones
Turn to ash and dust,
Will you remember me?
Will you remember my life,
Or my tragedy?
My virtues,
Or my sins?
Will my bones crumble
In an unmarked grave
Too close to the surface,
Spittle drying in the dirt above?
Or will my bones rest
In a coffin befitting a king,
Surrounded by flowers
And tears of mourning?
Will my ashes
Be scattered across the stars,
Or will my corpse
Be cast aside and forgotten?
Will I die in glory,
Or in ruin?
Will I even care,
When all is said and done?
Would anyone even remember me,
Centuries after I’m gone?
Or will I only be a single word
In a story spiralling into infin
What does it mean
To be in love?
What is it like?
Is it a soaring feeling,
Your heart fluttering so much
It could fly away,
Like a hummingbird’s wings
Against your ribcage?
Or is it scary, terrifying?
Is falling in love
More like cliff diving?
Losing control
Unable to save yourself from
Your downward descent
Into the confusing mess of emotions
Called love?
What is love?
Is it chemical reactions,
Neurons synapsing,
Hormones flaring?
Or is it something deeper than that?
Though almost every human feels it,
I don’t think anyone
Will ever fully understand it.
Without me noticing,
The question
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Turned into
“What will you waste the rest of your life
Failing to accomplish?”
Learning how terrible the world truly is
Can make anyone
Bitter and cynical.
Learning your childhood dreams were lies
Can make anyone
Suspicious of happy smiles and saccharine promises.
Falling like Lucifer fell,
Wings burning, voice screaming
Screaming as everything you know changes
Falling from the naive heaven of childhood
Into the hopeless, endless hell
Of adulthood.
But I fell long before
I was supposed to.
Worries and responsibilities
Rested on my shoulder
Your first kiss
Isn’t like
The ones in the movies,
Or the ones in the novels
Your mother used to hide from you;
Your first kiss
Is not
Fireworks
E x p l o d i n g in your mind,
One foot off the ground,
Never wanting
To pa rt your lips from theirs.
No.
Your first kiss
Isn’t like
What you’re lead to believe.
It’s awkward,
And clumsy,
And a little bit scary.
Which way
Do I turn my head?
Are my lips supposed to be
Moving like this?
What if I’m not
Kissing them
The right way?
What if I do
Something wrong?
Countless doubts and fears
Swimming through your head,
Slowly drowning you.
When
Good memories
Are like the final song of a dying swan
You’ll never hear again
Or a smile exchanged with a stranger
You’ll never see again.
Good memories
Are beautiful, and exciting, and wonderful
But fleeting, disappearing
Like the last note
Of the song of the dying swan.
Never to be experienced again,
Never to be remembered the same way again.
But bad memories
Are poison
Rushing through your veins,
Wearing down your defenses,
Constantly eating at the edges of your mind,
Until the poison consumes you,
Kills you, destroys you,
Until the bad memories are all you can remember.
It’s more difficult
To recall
The Insanity of Stein by ChochoMariposa, literature
Literature
The Insanity of Stein
THE DARKNESS OF MY MIND IS TAKING CONTROL
THE INSANITY IS TAKING ITS TOLL
CAN’T MOVE, CAN’T SEE
CAN’T SEE BEYOND THE DARKNESS INSIDE OF ME
MY MIND IS TWISTED BEYOND RECOGNITION
MY MORALS ARE DETERIORATING OF THEIR OWN VOLITION
I AM FALLING
ON MY KNEES, CRAWLING
BEGGING DEATH TO KILL ME
“STOP THE MADNESS, I BEG OF THEE!”
BUT DEATH IS TOO MERCIFUL
HE WILL NOT SAVE MY TWISTED SOUL
AND MY INSANITY TAKES ITS TOLL
CAN’T ESCAPE
CAN’T ERASE
CAN’T FIGHT BACK
CAN’T KEEP MY MIND INTACT
I KNOW, DEEP INSIDE
THAT MY INSANITY WAS TRIGGERED BY NO FAULT OF MINE
THE DEMON ASURA WAS THE CA
Sometimes,
s u i c i d a l
doesn't mean
a knife pressed to pale forearms
or trembling feet
taking the final step into o b l i v i o n .
Sometimes,
s u i c i d a l
doesn't mean
looking down the barrel of the gun
and pulling the trigger.
Sometimes,
s u i c i d a l
doesn't mean
too many pills slithering down your throat
like thorns from a rose;
beautiful
and harmless when you first see them,
but when you swallow them,
they begin
slowly ripping you apart from the
inside
o u t.
Sometimes,
s u i c i d a l
means
holding the weight of the world in your hands
even as your bones begin to break.
The crack of bone
is drowned out
by your
Daughter of Arkham: Chapter Two by ChochoMariposa, literature
Literature
Daughter of Arkham: Chapter Two
Chapter Two
(Again, please do not read this unless you have read the prologue and chapter one. Links are in the description.)
The Next Day
Note: Italics= Written (i.e., in a notebook, in a book, etc.)
"Sorry I'm late, my last appointment ran a bit later than I expected." Said a male voice from behind me, entering the room as the heavy wooden door clicked shut with an audible snap. Startled, I whirled around in my uncomfortable plastic chair, almost sending it careening to the tiled floor. The tall doctor pushed his thick horn-rimmed glasses up his thin nose with a skeletal hand, holding a black suitcase in his other hand. The man looked almos
Daughter of Arkham: Chapter One by ChochoMariposa, literature
Literature
Daughter of Arkham: Chapter One
Chapter One
DO NOT READ THIS WITHOUT READING THE PROLOGUE FIRST. LINK IS IN THE DESCRIPTION.
The day started off normally, I suppose. I woke up, got breakfast, and brought it back to my room to eat, since eating breakfast in the cafeteria wasn't mandatory for patients, excluding the high security, or Category Five, patients. I was a Category One, so I got a little more freedom during the day than the higher risk patients, but I still couldn't leave the building, or go anywhere without an escort.
After eating, I brought my plate back to the kitchen and made my way back to my room. For a couple of hours, all I did was read books I had already
Daughter of Arkham: Prologue by ChochoMariposa, literature
Literature
Daughter of Arkham: Prologue
Hey, this is a new story, a Batman fanfiction using my OC.
Enjoy, and first reviewer gets an excerpt of the next chapter! :D
Prologue
I've heard a lot of people, normal people, complain about how crazy their family life is. How their dads constantly act half their ages, or how their siblings constantly argue with them, or when they're watching Sunday night football and screaming at the television.
But in my honest opinion, most of their behavior is completely sane- normal, even. So why is it that behavior regarded as 'insane' is accepted by most of society? After all, they are being abnormal; they even admit it themselves. Why is it that onl
When I die,
And my flesh and bones
Turn to ash and dust,
Will you remember me?
Will you remember my life,
Or my tragedy?
My virtues,
Or my sins?
Will my bones crumble
In an unmarked grave
Too close to the surface,
Spittle drying in the dirt above?
Or will my bones rest
In a coffin befitting a king,
Surrounded by flowers
And tears of mourning?
Will my ashes
Be scattered across the stars,
Or will my corpse
Be cast aside and forgotten?
Will I die in glory,
Or in ruin?
Will I even care,
When all is said and done?
Would anyone even remember me,
Centuries after I’m gone?
Or will I only be a single word
In a story spiralling into infin
Um, hi, I'm Adriana c: I'm 18 years old, and I enjoy writing, reading, and scrolling through Tumblr. And...that's it I guess. Hope you enjoy my writing!
Favourite Movies
Avatar, Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Harry Potter Series
Favourite TV Shows
Supernatural, Royal Pains, Spongebob Squarepants, Castle, Teen Wolf
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Taylor Swift, Evanescence, Glee Cast, Lemonade Mouth
so I had my first college class today, which wasn't as scary as I expected. if you're heading to college soon, please don't listen to your high school teachers talking about the horrific things, because honestly it's not so bad.
also I'm currently looking for a job. there's that.