CrazyNinjaKid

Australia

fourteen
2005
#adhd gangg
parkour
catholic
leo
aussie irish
gryffindor
swimmer
sing
guitar
art
writing
green

write free

Message from Writer

I put words down on my page because sometimes I don't have the courage to say them aloud, for I wish the stories were not true.

Published Work

Writing Streak Challenge Week 10

Writing Streak Challenge Week 10 | I apologise but am in a critical state of wRiTeRs bLoCk |


monday

the air burn against the back of my throat, its cool grasp strangling. a bird is perched on a nearby tree, singing its peculiar little tune, the sound going high and then falling low, repeating the same pattern over and over. 

tuesday

clouds fill the blue sky as the eagle soars and glides overhead. 

wednesday

looking slow, breathing hard, i literally have writers block, its painful. like i want to be creative, the creativity passion has been yanked from my soul, it hurts. i am meant to be creative not brainwashed. 

thursday

a part of me is literally missing. i feel empty in this world, alone and lost. 

friday

friends surround me, laughter spilling like hot cocoa. 
 

A few words blindly scribbled from math


erase the words that you place on this page for you own these secrets. dont let them go so freely. 

Stepping Stones


As I stood there, a glowing red colour filled the sky. Orange jaffa coloured lava spits from the volcano's mouth, splatting hard against the sides. I stutter back in fright, scared that I may get burnt. I continue to watch as more and more lava flows out. It's somewhat satisfying, the calming sensation of how it bursts from the volcano, like the lava is passion from its heart. My torch seems so weak against the bright colours, it just being a small star. But the torch isn't weak. The torch got me here, just another small stepping stone to swallow the demons that lie before this prize. To see the passion of an angered heart.  
 

We Don't All Survive


Thrash.

She falls, her landing abruptly, hitting against the floors boldly tiled surface, yelling with an anguished cry. A cry of pain. The cry that she had freely allowed her soul to unleash, the sharp corners of it piercing the inside of her. For she had given up on trying to defeat its toxic impact, she was long past that stage.

She stares mystically up at the ceiling, that torturing white colour fills it. There it gleams its smirking smile once again. An unspeakable kind of emotion is what was leaked, giving off pain like a knife beginning to slice below your shoulder, except for this time you weren’t under sedation. No steady hands of the people who had tried to save you, for even they had said enough was enough. You could feel her pain, literally, watching her squirm as it reflected what she now was. A tiny girl with a broken soul.

“Why did it have to be!”
...

Just some creative things :)


Anger begins to strangle him like a vine which has unleashed, pulling  as violently as the strangle will reach. For he clenches his fist with the burn beginning to fight at him, for he cannot let it win.  

Cakes of dust clumping across the old net now clung to her hair and clothes like frizzy accessories. 
 
Their leaves fall to the ground, a notable crumple is heard as they attempt a subtle rustle in a synchronised fashion with the wind. Heart lyrically beats to this sought after symphony, for the leaves conceal your darkest secret.  
 
The sun is a golden paradise, rays fueled with passion. Swirls of rainbowed light beam majestically, shy strands of magic are awakening. Fairies ride on microscopic dragons, lighting up the worlds soul. 
 
A charcoal black fills the night sky the artists paintbrush swirling across the outstretched canvas. The moon smiles its creamy grin at the presence of the stars; scattering across the darkness like children at a fun fair. The stars chuckles intensify as the glow brighter and brighter, for the paint is...

The Guardians of God’s Soul -- Please feedback, this is my english draft!!


Sometimes our loved ones must die before ourselves.

A bead of sweat rolls down Fintan’s wrinkled forehead, his eyes burn boldly like kerosene as he fiercely concentrates on transferring his power to his companion. Toivo lays on his side perplexed as the strange buzz ran through his veins, the magic channelled into his bloodstream. Fintan closes his eyes shut as he falls back in soul wrenching pain, his metamorphic strengths have now been depleted from his body. He grips tightly onto Toivo’s hand, motioning him to listen.
“Knowledge is limited to all we know and understand Toivo,” he whispers. “While imagination embraces the entire world and the truth that lies within.” Fintan’s voice is unusual, one of which sounds very old but very wise with his years.
Toivo looks down at Fintan, his brown hair hanging over his face as he squeezed onto his hand. His voice shakes, uncontrollably as he begins to speak what would be his final conversation...

i still remember the day i fell in love ---Thank you, this is the most likes i've ever gotten :)


sunny day standing apart from the rest
the day my love started to decompress, 
sand in the cotton of my summery dress,
i remember your hair, a total mess,
your eyes caught mine, capturing a smile to your face,
the minute i saw you i was utterly obsessed, 
love had begun its exciting torturing test.

 

Writing Streak Challenge Week 9

Writing Streak Challenge Week 9


subtle breaths silently breath/vibe is killed violently/arresting soul/empty heart of glooming loneliness/voice bounces unnaturally/standing on the corner of the zone/levitating higher and higher/begging forgiveness/happiness is lost

hunger rising for love/soul is dying/the world losing colour rapidly/passion deceasing/depression forced/fears are pinned to chests/forever creating darkest of nightmares

the fairy dust has evaporated/magic hastily shrinking/world collapsing/tears painted on faces/cuts obviously show/demons lurk/smirks arise on their faces/the world has turned/the people have sinned 


unnaturally boom voice/obnoxious is in their blood/paper planes soar high/the ground filled with strewn paper/sharpeners missing the bin/instructors yelling/detentions looming/mind crashing/you want to cry/your peers are selfish/their respect is distinct/taunting gleefully is the attackers/laughing as they mock/ears covered/the noise keeps growing/its a volcano erupting/heating and spitting/it wants to be in charge

the people are careless/they do not care/for they are the power/they ride alongside the forces/the forces of empowerment/the rulers/the attention seekers/they are wrong/cruel realities/hopes evaporating/yet again they have won
 

a athair #126 contest --REVIEW SWAP PLEASE COMMENT BELOW :)


ruptures my fragile soul,
rhythmic peace distorted, 
shallow breathless gasps,
dread filled introspection's awakened, 
wildly roams previewing visions,  
echos repeating, over and over, 
mind whirling, intimate voices,
violent nightmares, triggered painstakingly,
harshly crush the heart-wrenching memories, 
afraid, traumatised, painfully alone, 
floating like a child's sail boat,
drowning in a lost sea of confusion.

acceptation of the final stand
heart pounding, pound after pound
shattering fiercely, glass of a million pieces,
risks unleashed, jeopardised, threatening self,
following heart, ignoring mind,
defying weakness, disregarding soul,
be a saviour, a want to be warrior,
all for this one person,
for the loyalty wouldn't be returned.

 

i still remember the day i fell in love (edited version) | What Do You think? | be sure to read footnotes


a magical summer day, stood boldly from the rest,
my love for you, unfolding in my chest.
i first noticed your hair, a tangled blonde mess,
out journeyed love, starting to slowly to obsess.
your brown eyes caught mine, followed with your sheepish grin,
my cheeks turned pink against my olived skin.
you smiled your beaming smile, rubbing sand off your chin,
you grabbed your surfboard, lifting it by the fin, 
my heart beat fast, i needed to impress,
i stood nervously on the path, barefoot in my yellow dress.
you walked next to me, shooting me a smile of all smiles,
words slipped from your mouth, my heart jumping a few hundred miles,
those words fell like paint from an artists brush,
i slowly began to realise that i was starting to crush.

 

Rose is going to Hogwarts#Sunprompt_3 READ MESSAGE BOX :)


Part 1: Ready to go

“Hurry up Rosie!’’ You don’t want to be late for your first day of Hogwarts!”

Hermione Granger apparated into her daughter’s room. She sees that as usual, her bed is unmade. 

“Ut in lectulo!” Hermione says, and the bed sheets and doona pull up, erasing any creases.

At this, Rose turns around from her window, dressed in her robes, the plain ones until she is sorted into a house. With almost no noise at all, the pillow from on top of the rug flies across the room and plops on the bed.

“Hey Rosie, are you ready to go now?” Hermione asks her daughter, smiling at her passionately.

Rose turns her head towards her mum, looking at her nervously.

“Mum,” she says, now walking over to where her mum is. “When you went to Hogwarts for the first time, were you scared?”
 
“Oh honey,”
 she says to her daughter, now sitting on the edge...

hang in there


collapsing light, shadows cascading,
voices crack, consternation's journeying, 
threatening pain beginning its strangling,
minds scream silently frozen in change,
disenchanted emotions blaze in destruction,
heart meet heart, beat to one sync,
where is the light, stay close, hang tight. 



 

you deleted the light... #PrettyContest 4


heart pounding, repetitively races,
here i stand, my consternation enlarges,
the greater the fear, the harder the confrontation, 
pain unleashes, etching my soul,
clouding purity, revealing weakness,
veins tighten, muscles flexed,
fists clenched, eyebrows drawn,
anger cemented, its the boss now.

you are lost,

              you are hopeless,
           
                                 you are alone.


crazy emotions, tear you apart,
voices echo, your wrongs return,
power speaks, your superiority is rising,
your truth is shrinking, 
mindset is practically distinct,
your truth has spoken,
denying it didn't help,
you have been proven wrong,
laughs echo for they were right,

you are evil, 

              you are crazy,

                            you deleted the light.

 

Playwriting Competition 2020

What Should Have Been the perfect murder. (Final Version)


[Scene 1]

A Saturday morning at 10:00 am. Max is typing at his computer, currently troubleshooting code for his new part time job at the local computer store. He is in his own world, headphones in and peaceful music plays through them.
 
MAX types at his computer, mouse clicking every so often, along with the printer releasing pages of code. Front door slams. MAX is unaware of JUSTIN arriving back to the flat.
 
JUSTIN dumps his surfboard on the rack, grabbing a towel that lies over the side of a chair, he heads up the stairs. Passes his new flat mate’s room, the door being left open he pokes his head in.
 
JUSTIN: Yo dude what are you doing?
MAX feels his presence and removes one headphone from his ear.
MAX: Just coding. Did you just wake up?
JUSTIN (sniggers)
JUSTIN: No actually (says with sarcasm) I was a normal person and got out of...

Shots Fired #LBC12


Bingo! There, on the stair, he was mid-step. I know it will soon be time to fire. My AK-47 is in my hand, my middle finger resting over the trigger, my index finger against the cylinder, parallel to the barrel. I crouch low in one the of aisles and can just see him through the cracks in between the seats. I keep still, my focus on him. The lights in the stadium are all off other than the lights that go down the steps at the end of every aisle. He continuously looks around, as if he knows someone is watching him. His gun is in his right hand, relaxed but ready to set the trigger off at any time.

“Don’t hesitate to fire when it’s time Walker,” Murphy says over the radio.

“Copy.”

My eyes stay glued to this serial killer. We couldn’t make a move on him yet, until he was at the very top. It’s too dangerous...

moon wishes (review swap?)

"come on oliver!" grandmother calls rather tight, strict tone. "are you ready?" 

eight-year-old me runs down the twisting garden path, beaming a smile.

"lets wave to mummy," grandmother tells me. grandmother and i wave to mummy and returns our waves with a smile. grandmother grabs my hand, like preschool children do to one another. we walk in silence, along the drive, out of my street, down the paved path with weeds growing in the cracks and down to the beach. eight-year-old me skips along beside her.

"now oliver," she says in a relaxed tone, a grandmotherly one. grandmother kicks of her sandals and i follow. grandmother lets go of my hand now we are on the beach. it is quiet, with only a seagull at the waters edge. grandmother rests her hands on my shoulder. "what do we have to do?" she asks, almost like an instructor.

"find  moon!" i cry excitedly, looking up at her. we both look up...

Two Sides


I can choose the top,
But I could decide on the bottom option,
I want to go up,
But my friends want me to go down,
Which way should I go,
Left,
Or Right?

There is light,
But dark has so many possibilities,
We have a choice,
Good,
Or Evil


Just like these objects, we all have two sides. Its all about choices. That defines who we choose to be.
 

Writing Streak Challenge Week 4

Writing Streak Challenge Week 4


the calming familiarity of my best friends voice on the other end of the phone. her constant joking manner along with her daily anecdotes remind me the world is still a good place.
____________________________________________________________________
lorikeets are squawking with rejoicement as the sun becomes more and more visible through the pines that shelter my suburb. it is good to see that the animals are happy.
____________________________________________________________________
the rain falls, fresh essence projects itself into my nose. i breath deeply. air. life. we are alive. we are blessed.

i am forever thankful. 
____________________________________________________________________
higher we rise, escaping into everlasting freedom, where the memories begin to form slowly turning time by time again, our mistakes evolving us, the people we grow to be.
____________________________________________________________________
the trees have began to shed their leaves, falling to the ground, turning brown and crisp, with a notable crumpling sound as the rustle with the wind. A butterfly soars back and forward over the leaves again and again,...

Writing Streak Challenge Week 5

Writing Streak Challenge Week 5


monday marks the start of a new week,
you know that last week wasnt your greatest defeat,
but dont be afraid, please dont retreat,
change your mind, start to eliminate your meek,
why dont you start now, get ion the road to complete?

tuesday follows with a couple of things,
yawns along with tear streaked cheeks,
the mocking bird laughs while anger sings,
lost in despair, learning new techniques,
how are we to manage the rest of this week?

wednesday the weeks middle, its just begun, 
lets hope today will be a little more fun,
hopes are high, until the textbook joins the show
bringing along its lethally demeaning stun,
did we really think the mocking bird would let go?

thursday another day to check of the list
pencils breaking, headache a lingering mist,
today will be just like the rest,
a day purely high on stress,
why did i believe that this week would suddenly have a favourable twist?

friday...

Writing Streak Challenge Week 6

Writing Streak Challenge Week 6


"Atticus, stop talking!" Ally hisses. "Mummy is asleep!" 

My eyes scrunch as I am awakened to my daughters annoyed tone. I had actually rather liked Atticus' soft chatter to his toy cars; it gave me some sort of familiarity of what our life used to be like. He was so oblivious to this all. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing he is too young to know.

"Nooo!" Atticus screeches back. "The cars are my friends!"

I can hear him throw his cars onto the ground and sense that they have hit something in the room with quite a rage. Atticus' little footsteps run across the small room around and around and he starts to pick up the cars. I watch him through my eyelashes, his chubby body bends over picking up his cars, them occasionally dropping out of the sides of his shirt. 

"Well done Ally look what you've made him do. 

I can hear the sarcasm in my...

Writing Streak Challenge Week 3

Writing Streak Challenge Week 3


I'm the weak, not a saviour. 
____________________________________________________________________
Lifes a puzzle I cannot solve
____________________________________________________________________
Sometimes the pain gets too much
____________________________________________________________________
Nobody can save me now. Fact.
____________________________________________________________________
You are alone in this world.
 

Writing Streak Challenge Week 8

Writing Streak Challenge Week 8


Only you has the power to fight the demons you face.
___________________________________________________________________
Two-sideness will never get you anywhere. 
___________________________________________________________________
Never let your weaknesses drown you.
___________________________________________________________________
Embrace your fears, look at what they are in a new light.
___________________________________________________________________
Take a moment to remember you can be a warrior. 
 

another short romance poem... soulmates?


why do you have to give me that smile,

and please dont pretend  you do not know,

for you wait for me in the grocery aisle,

with ocean eyes' and a carefree glow.



i tried hard not to fall for you,

but that plan is an evident, tragic fail,

for every time i've tried to bail,

my heart sings childishly, and yet again you break through.


there you are at my front door,

my cheeks a burning candle, the love is shining bright

whispering sheepishly you ask if im alright,

my eyes meet yours, and i can see yours soar.


 

best version of me.


sun burns against my freckled arms, the light causing my eyes to squint. the ocean's water envelopes my legs, a cold rush swims into my bones. i drop my surfboard in the water, ready for another day at life. the sun is casting its orangery glow as far as my eyes will see, its rays are a dynamo of energy. the waves begin their usual banter with one another, like children squabbling over a building block. wind embraces you as you become one with the water.

                            balance yourself,

                                    keep trusting what you love most,

                                              feel the adrenaline seep into your veins,

       ...

Writing Streak Challenge Week 7

Writing Streak Challenge Week 7


I love the sunrise. Orange and yellow streaks are painted across the wakening sky. The sun starts to peak over the horizon, slowly rising higher and higher until it reaches the top. The birds begin to chirp to one another with an intricate little tune. Dogs bark with their people behind them. The world is awake now. Monday has begun.
___________________________________________________________________
Patience. We all envy those with that power. For some resent those with it, little to their knowledge that it builds relationships. With the ones who you grow to love, from the arguments of disagreement, slowly turning into strands of friendship. The person I refer to is someone I admire a lot. For you will never read this but I love you.
____________________________________________________________________
I close my eyes and inhale, focusing on the pure air’s scent, exhaling as the wind softly kisses my face with its cold touch. The sun burns against my skin, loading me with passion. I may...

Writing Streak Challenge Week 2

Writing Streak Challenge Week 2


heart shaped shamrock coloured leaves, highlighted veins with a deeper green. the lime colour thinly divides each leaf into rectangled segments. they drape over the forever rotting fence, with every downpour becoming a deeper hue. a distinct stench of mould, yet still the fence manages to stand, sometimes the weak can be the strong. continuously, it seeps into the heavy chalky soil, becoming lost as it enters the ground. minuscule termites, their back coloured with a hint of orange, ooze from the fence in upmost enjoyment, digging their teeth into the mouldy wood. rays of sunlight beam onto the landing, golden streaks of sunlight appearing on my face, accentuating my freckled cheeks. the air is moist, i can feel it. rain starts to slowly fall from the calm sky. the rain drops are falling lightly, yet the sun is still shining bright. a golden paradise, with the rain creating a rainbow. the blue sky surrounds the rainbow, the colour now becoming...

Writing Streak Challenge Week 1

Writing Streak Challenge Week 1


>>>>>Breaking News<<<<<

+Aussie teenager from Queensland takes a stand in this devastating time.+

Fourteen year old Gracie Callaghan from Queensland has decided to make a difference and share a positive message with as many people as possible. The past month, she has been posting daily with tips on staying positive during this tough time. We were lucky enough to have one of our interviewers Steve to talk to  Gracie in what she has been doing and her purpose for doing so.

Steve: Hello Gracie thank you for taking part in our online video interviews!
Gracie: Not a problem Steve, thank you for having me.
Steve: So what prompted you to start posting about different things to do while stuck indoors?
Gracie: I think that mental health is a very serious thing and a lot of people are scared in this time and I wanted to share a message which a lot of people would see.
Steve: That amazing. Do you...

Playwriting Competition 2020

What Should Have Been the perfect murder. (Final Version)


Scene 1
It is a Saturday morning at 10:00 am. Max is typing at his computer, currently troubleshooting code for his new part time job at the local computer store. He is in his own world, headphones in and peaceful music plays through them.
 
MAX types at his computer, mouse clicking every so often, along with the printer releasing pages of code. Front door slams. MAX is unaware of JUSTIN arriving back to the flat.
 
JUSTIN dumps his surfboard on the rack, grabbing a towel that lies over the side of a chair, he heads up the stairs. JUSTIN passes his new flat mate’s room, the door being left open he pokes his head in.
 
JUSTIN Yo dude what are you doing?
MAX feels his presence and (removes one headphone from his ear.)
MAX Just coding. Did you just wake up?
JUSTIN (sniggers)
JUSTIN No actually (says with sarcasm) I was a normal person and...

this is my life #quick

"faster, faster, faster!" 
heart pumps, calves burn.
"that's not good enough, go again!"
legs beat up and down. 
"where is your technique grace?!"
knees to chin, arms twist and circle.
"go again hup hup hup!"
muscles flex, streamline tight.
"two mintues ninteen, you can do better."
this is my life.

 

#AllinNowin


Click. I open the gate, the latch producing its usual clicking sound. Skateboard in one hand and my water bottle in the other. I put down my water bottle on the letterbox. Lowering my board, I put my feet on it and skate down the drive.

An alarm comes onto my watch. Quarter to six. I have to be home by six that’s the rule. I turn it off and do one more loop in my street. Right leg, push and pause, push and pause. I come to the end of the cul-de-sac. The rose bush out the front of my neighbour's house displays the red little flowers. But something else is in the bush too.

Two identical green bulges of light pierce through the emerald shaded bush. I stop dead in the middle of my street. I look backwards and can see my house at the end, just near the streetlight. Then something rustles. The leaves start to sway...

#BaringMySoul1


a creamed filled sphere fills the sky with night,
moonlight gleams next to the stars, whom twinkle shining bright,
magic is dancing in between the tops of trees,
while the flowers are closed, petals shut; this is the homes for sleeping bees,
crickets sound while fairies fly; they show of their glittering wings,
the children dream, heads filled with all sorts of imaginative, childish things,
owls fly from one to another, with eyes opened wide,
the foxes come from earthly burrows, chests showing their mighty pride,
squirrels sleep peacefully, hazelnuts perfectly aligned,
god watches over, knowing which ones have sinned and lied.
 

we stand (an anzac day poem) Plz give feedback :)


 those that left their families and went and fought,
the men who made up our anzacs,
those that the gift of protection is what they sought,
sixty thousand men who were in the war’s fateful attacks,
we stand to give our thanks.

april twenty-fifth is a commemorative day,
the day our anzacs landed at gallipoli,
fighting for our freedom of a rightly say,
young men protecting us voluntarily,
we stand to give our thanks.

our gratitude for them is worn on our chest,
while we stand freely on our land,
we are aligned, everyone best dressed,
for we are free as we raise our right hand,
we stand to give our thanks.

the brave men who sought to fight for us,
to protect us from the worlds harm,
these were the men who willingly died for us,
who's only source of protection was a fire-arm,
we stand to give our thanks.
 

#everprompts3

the moon twinkles through the stain glass window, a mysterious echo surrounding the cottage. it is a continuous echo that is a calming and soothing to the human ear. the moon is majestic, a creamy sphere filled of magic, with talents that have great power. a charcoal black fills the night sky, the stars act as little highlights scattered throughout the forever lasting darkness. it is a mystic harmony, the moon a twilight mystic dream, the stars glowing with twinkling energy. the cottage is old and rustic, - almost vintage. its built on jagged rocks that protect it from the ocean, receiving an occasional sea spray on the brick wall that protects the inside of the cottage. the rocks surround the cottage, like guards at a queens palace. the salt wateris like a swirling a dangerous whirl pool, it moves with strength and the upmost speed. i stand on the wooden jetty, hanging on to the post with all...

Sinister Events#120words

"Sir! Your wallet!"

He jumps on the bus, doors slamming. Unsure, I open his dropped wallet. 

A piece of crumpled paper with scrawly handwriting sits loose. 

The familiar words jump out at me.

Charles Callaghan
Heather Callaghan
Aaron Callaghan.
Louis Callaghan.
Grace Callaghan.
Sebastian Callaghan.

My eyebrows are now raised with utmost confusion, my lips dry. I can feel someone watching me. Glancing at the bus, a man's nose to the tinted window. Its him who dropped the wallet, an evil smile glimmering on his face

The bus turns around a corner. I loose sight of him. 

He wanted me to find his wallet. There was no cash, no id. Just the scrawly piece of paper with my family's names. 
 

the sun and me Follower #64!!! #100

me
​harsh words, finally make its way to where i feel pain the most. 
my mind, bursting with emotion, a pounding mallet on a drum.
hands clenched, each step intensifies my pain.
emotion, too much for a girl to single handedly manage.
the anger, building up like earwax that is ever continuing to replenish.
my jumper, my source of comfort which i hide myself from the world.
hot tears stream down my freckled cheeks like rain drops on colourful pane glass windows of a humble church.
my heart, broken from the repetitive pain.
i have given in. my demons have won.  

~this is how the world breaks~

the story of the boy who lived. harry potter. the chosen one. the only one who could defeat voldemort. 

how about this.

grace callaghan. the suns guardian. the one who has the power of the sun, and the worlds fate.

sun
a glowing light
an energetic ball of fire,
a power source that...

my inner fire

it burns,
the flames,
the embers,
sparking at my soul,
its just waiting for me to let go.

its trying to take the fight out of me,
when i least expect it,
but i know its plan,
its just waiting for me to let go.

but i am strong,
and have the courage,
to defeat the obstacles,
that its using to wait for me to let go.

but there are days,
that everyone has,
where it doesnt seem possible
to keep holding on.

thats the time,
it gets the better of me,
when i lose my fight,
thats when, the fire inside of me.
wins.

The Man Whose Story Should Have Been Told (Version 2)

He was an interesting man. Anyone who watched him would have thought of him as a quite peculiar soul and, really, he was. At least, from the outside anyway. He was bald, with not a hair on his head except for a bushy little moustache that grew from right under his nose. He wore a leather pork pie hat to hide his pale head from the sun, accompanied by brown leather shoes that were incredibly pointed at the end. And all he ever wore was that navy suit, with the tie that was completely black, except some strips were lighter than others, but it was still a solid black. His eyes were blue, which was surprising. For an unfriendly, cold man like himself, you would expect them to be grey. To top it off, he wore a bright golden watch on his left wrist, which shimmered in the sunlight, reflecting each and everything.
Every morning at exactly 9am, on the...

Descended

I am falling,
Just down.
That’s really all there is,
This so called, ‘Unknown Mystery’ of life.
That’s all,
I’m just falling,
Down. 
 
Into darker and darker depths,
Of the mysterious unknown.
The unknown crawling,
Round and round,
Faster and faster
 
Blurring at my face,
Just blurring.
Until it becomes just the reality.
The reality of life.
 
It stings like a wasp,
And hisses like a snake,
Wraps around you,
 The vine on a tree,
That is life for you,
Just us trying to be let free.