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Literature Text
I hunch like peonies,
unfolding like origami,
wearing my winter skin
like a coma
unfolding like origami,
wearing my winter skin
like a coma
Literature
Ancestors' Curses
We're possessed by the beasts inside Try to oppress them but they break out In the wrong place and in the wrong time We carry them in our blood Though we've not killed anyone We're killers because we're alive When we die, die also the beasts The violence we do hold in Don't act all innocent You don't know what you possess When you feel so angry that you can't control yourself anymore You'll reveal the frightening truth Each of us able to kill When our beast has awakened Not oppressed inside of us anymore It all depends on how far we go Losing our sanity and straying from morals That we choose to follow Because of these beasts So we do all we can to forgive Not holding on to anger that's causing the violence Even if we're harmed heavily To repeat this cycle no more Maybe it's a never-ending fight with ourselves Trying to hide our pointless existence By becoming something greater That we never are deep within But, hopefully, we win this fight And one day there's no beasts
Literature
Unworthy
Into a glen most dark, I ride. The unicorn lifts its head, Its shimmering light About the grass and slopes, And all that I can see Of them. The unicorn blinks languidly And regards me With a curious tilting Of its head. My own held high 'n' proud, I dismount my horse And stride to it And kneel. For safe passage, I ask. The light winks out. A scramble onto my horse And we're off once more. In the distance, The mob can be heard.
Literature
The Best Medicine (Emma (Sekiro) Hypnotized!)
Emma had experienced many strange things ever since meeting Wolf. But since he had left Ashina with the Divine Child, she had mostly been left to herself, helping the wounded after the Interior Ministry's takeover. She had preferred to stay on the sidelines, but being able to help people was rewarding in itself... even if, for the most part, she was alone now. Isshin had passed, the Sculptor had been consumed by his hatred... well, it made things feel a bit empty now. But she still found purpose as a doctor, and when she had found a strangely dressed girl unconscious in the Ashina Outskirts, her first instinct was to make sure she was okay. She had no external injuries, and was sleeping peacefully on the floor of the dilapidated temple, her hands folded above her stomach as she breathed gently in and out. Emma studied her curiously, kneeling over her. Judging by her looks, she was likely a Westerner, maybe in her late teens, a young adult at the latest... but her dress was unlike
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Full Title: To Be Compared to Flowers is the Saddest Thing
Seriously, don't do it to a girl. It's depressing.
(But maybe just for me).
--
I'm tired of writing poems like this. Maybe more tired of the word 'Depression' because I've been staring at its gore for eight years and sleeping with its bones for longer.
Genetics is as much my own enemy as my own complacency.
Seriously, don't do it to a girl. It's depressing.
(But maybe just for me).
--
I'm tired of writing poems like this. Maybe more tired of the word 'Depression' because I've been staring at its gore for eight years and sleeping with its bones for longer.
Genetics is as much my own enemy as my own complacency.
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