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Silverwings Ch. 4The stallion walked in with Velvet, closing his dark green wings. They folded neatly over his matching coat. The stallion stopped dead, his eyes landing on Grey. Closing her eyes briefly, she wished fervently she to be anywhere but there.
Unfortunately, she opened her eyes again, and the gaping stallion was still there. “Honey, who is this?” he asked, turning to Velvet.
“He’s Splash’s new friend,” she explained. “Grey Sky.” Grey got up from the table quickly.
“Hello,” she said, extending her hoof for the stallion to shake it. He shook it firmly, looking into her eyes searchingly.
“Mr. Stitch,” he said, introducing himself. Grey nodded, and Mr. Stitch s
SYOT- Ivy Avenue Reaping The bell clangs loudly, and I scoop up my bag. Rushing out of the door with the other students, I don’t talk. I never talk. I guess I’m the quiet kind.
With my brother, I’m anything but quiet. Lucas is the one other person I talk to regularly in front of. But as neither of them is available now, I stay silent. I rummage through my bag, making sure I haven’t lost my needle. It cost me three months’ worth of savings to get, and it’s the only way I make sure I don’t starve.
I file down the hallway and out of the school. My dress swishes comfortably around me. My left sleeve is torn, and I briefly consider patching it. I’ll have to look out for some other scraps today.
My feet have memorized the route to the after-school sewing shed. District 8 is full of these little places, for children to work at after school making smaller things. Clothes and d
What ifWhat if there was a way
To escape all your problems
Care about people every day
Have them care back
What if the price
Was just your life outside of you
You could just get sucked in
You would be invincible too
Who cares what they say?
Who cares what they think?
What it you could be confident,
And the price was only ink
What if it wasn't hard
To bury yourself away
Who cares what they think of you,
If you're closed off emotionally, anyway?
What if you could forget
At least for a little while
And the price would only be
Just a bit of your soul
Buried away inside of it
Right there where you can find it
It wouldn't be hard really,
No it wouldn't hurt, really
What if you could escape
Run away and not look back
What if the price was only
Opening up a book.
Shoot StraightSo here you go
Thrown into the deep end
Do your best,
Everything is riding on this,
But no pressure."
Here I am
Time to pick
What I've tried to avoid until now
What do you want to do with your life?
You only live once,
Live it well
What if my dream is just to stop
And disappoint everyone.
Silverwings Ch.3As she stepped in, Grey felt like she was walking into a whole new world. So this is what normal houses look like in Cloudsdale. The inside of the house was impeccably built out of marble, and fluffy furniture made of clouds was placed at regular intervals in the long, breezy hallway.
Photos were on the wall; there were many of them, but not jumbled. Instead, they were spaced out and perfectly aligned with one another, hanging exactly above the cloud shelves or drawers. Overall, the house looked empty and clean. Peering into the small, glass-framed pictures, Grey could make out the family.
First was Chestnut as a colt, both of his parents with a hoof each on his shoulders. The next frame held two baby ponies: a magenta-haired one with lemongrass yellow strands that was an adorable young Feather Splash, and the pale blue filly Grey was certain was
Silverwings Ch.2“What are you doing here?” asked Grey. Feather Splash had already jumped off of her and was inspecting her house.
“What’s that?” the filly asked.
“My computer,” Grey answered, watching Feather Splash bounce around. Feather Splash noticed a lone feather lying next to the machine.
“Do you type with your feathers, too?”
“Yes,” Grey said. “What brings you here, Feather Splash?”
“Oh, that. I wanted to show my sister your house!” the filly trotted over to the entrance again. “And you can just call me Splash.”
Silverwings Ch.1Silverwings by greysky3, a My Little Pony FiM FanFic.
Disclaimer: I do not own My Little Pony.
A loud banging noise woke up Grey Sky early that morning. She snapped her eyes open and wondered who could have gotten to her house. Rubbing her eyes, she clambered out of bed, almost tripping on her rug.
She picked her glasses up from her night table, and rushed downstairs. Blinking once, she saw the bell on the inside of her door was now swinging wildly. So they found the doorbell.
She opened the door and stepped out, nearly plunging down the thirty feet to the ground below. Who in Cloudsdale is this? Grey Sky wondered. It was a wide-eyed filly, holding a book and a quill. Her wings were beating fast, and Grey was impressed with her flying skills.
AgainI think it will happen again, I don't know why I looked it up
Melancholy once again, can I really survive another time?
Surely this time I will break, but maybe I'm already broken
Carefully, carefully, I picked up the pieces
Already I knew, I think I felt it
Repenting and feeling, though I may be wrong
Entirely certain that something was changing
Do I have to worry again and again?
Sans TitreJe me mets à écrire, c'est pas comme les histoires
Y a pas d'encre ni papier, tout est électronique
On entend comme la pluie, légers bruits du clavier
Comme la nuit, quand je n'arrive pas à dormir
Et ces vers qui m'étouffent et me sauvent en même temps
Et me font rêver aussi, quand je lis Corneille
Lui, par exemple, ses vers l'ont rendu célèbre
Et le doux bruit s'arrête quand je dois bien penser
À ces alexandrins qui animent la magie
Et des fois, quelques fois, en plein cours de français
Je lis un texte qui est trop beau pour être vrai
Ou comme Annie Ernaux, Ce Qu'ils Disent Ou Rien
Ses mots m'on semblé venir de ma propre bouche
En vrai je me trouve moche, j'ai envie de sortir
J'essaie de voir le futur et de réussir
Mais j'ai peur que en vrai je n'y arriverai pas
Et que mon avenir bientôt s'effondrera
Mais il y a une chose dont je suis bien certaine
Ça me fait
Bridge ClosedIn the city of spires
thrust upward through the body of cloud
a piercing spike of adrenalin,
as the wind fondly ruffles her hair,
doesn't stop her from jumping up.
Reaching to be seen or saved,
by a city that blinks and misses her -
a temporary peak on the skyline.
Doesn't stop her from slamming
into the steel slashes
of the trainline below.
Even the most beautiful places
to those blinded by the inside-out-agony
of breathing against their will.
The city of spires remember her
as the cause for a bridge closed
on a Sunday.
Poem for My 2nd Semester English Teacher(Short v.)You stapled these words to the page.
Like a modern day tyrant,
You denied them the little humanity
You trapped their souls into
And threw them to the curb,
I understand that certain things
Should be left Inhuman
But we even give hurricanes names.
You taught us to separate the person from the art,
But if the art is about that person, you can’t pull them apart
The SundancersThe sundancers crease the sky ephemerally
and stain the floor with their bravery, eternally.
FlamesThere are flames where
his head should be -
a poem left in the fireplace,
a dressing gown, a pipe,
forty pieces of silver.
This man promised you a winter
so warm and bountiful
spring would be ashamed.
He called you by name -
not the one that father knew
shoved under his bible.
But the one left behind
in the branches,
in the bucket of brambles,
and the columbines
buried at your feet.
Stones on the battlefield,
surrender in the grass.
What did his face
even look like behind the curtain,
counting those coins
and loosening the damp earth
from your shoes?
FriendshipFriendship is a tapestry
Woven through the years
With threads of joy and laughter
Happiness and tears
It's a work of art so priceless
It's shared by a precious few
Yet so easily created
By a loving friend like you
each one of us carries cemeteries beneath our skinyou are not the only one
to walk like there are
who looks both ways
before crossing the road
"knew a girl who";
you are alive
and you will experience
hurt, and you will
be so thankful
for every painful breath you take
because it's better than when
everything goes quiet
and all you feel is exhaustion.
there is more than just
one cold snap
before you enter
the winter of your life.
there are spells
of sadness and rage,
hate and denial
of all that you know
and all that you deserve;
and you are not the only one
to fight for everyday you are here,
alive and breathing
and striving to thrive
on such an unforgiving planet,
in such a world
that births emotional deserts
in its people;
you are not the only one
The lighthouseOn the top of the cliff
Facing the endless blue ocean
There is a place
Where a bright light shines
Guiding people through the night
And through the storm
A place of mystery and wonder
A sight to behold
Let its light guide you
So you can find happiness
to nurse doe (whom we all know) i watched her
blood orange heart
cleanse and suture
old bullet wounds and
new bouts of lilacs,
lime, and blue
her alcohol and aloe
A DeskA laptop humming quietly
Its soft glow like purring
Pencils strewn around
Like by an invisible tidal wave
Bits an pieces of things
Feathers and paper clips
Swept away hastily
To make room in the middle
A cup full of pens
Perfume and scissors
Sharpies and scotch tape
A headband and a sharpener
A flashlight I never use
Pushpins and rubber bands
That I should put away
A lone hand sanitizer
A small red lamp
A bigger white one overhead
Charging to one side
Looking like they're sleeping
Lighting up once in a while
Books I'm reading
Books I wish I was reading
A cutout cardboard Eiffel tower
A valentine's day snow globe
Scented candles I don't know where to put
Underneath it all, a shiny red table
Still looking new
Under its shield of plastic tablecloth
With black and white cow splotches
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