- Age / Gender:
- 20, Female
- Hades of Heaven
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Done. Just a crappy writer OKAY?!?
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Level 3 Writer
Ranked as Civilian
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Been working on some stuff lately. Enjoy.
--::Boxed In::, Inspired by the movie
Walls they call them
Construct me into this
Person they wish to see but
They can never quite get the picture right
They crop and resize me until I
Appear just right in their mind but I
Can't seem to feel healthy
With this concept of self-preservation and sympathy
Apathy of anarchy
And this content with augmenting
Who I am
With what I should be.
But I'll take a break and conjure up the strength
'That shall slice
Those wrinkles those things you call mistakes
And throw them into the trashcans
With the bits and pieces
And tidbits of "feces".
Only small things that you need to step over in order to break into you
Things that get in your way so the opposition can usurp the king
They can only be
Those things that you must ignore and turn a blind e7e to
Because these walls we built for you
Are where you must stay.
There is no
Easy way out or quick conclusions
Assumptions of winning this battle you are already losing
The thought that you can no longer turn back the knife that has been pointed
And jointed with your toes and fingers
Are you really going to throw away the path painted for you,
That path so pretty and dawned as a new dawn of a new era of a new day
You see so clearly and obviously have the tools to make it through the days
There will be no sunlight and no moonlight for you to convey
Things you find as weird as they may seem
Are the very things that can save you.
You see we live in a world where the fittest survive
And those who are ill equipped
Or fall into the systems elliptical
Run for miles
Seeing an outstretch piece of land
That there is a sunrise
An end to this nightmare
On this day, a very dark day
To the point at which they can no longer see
That they are running on
An elliptical machine
Running on societys scheme. . .
Don't worry that goddam head of yours
I've raised and seen and sunned and bleed for
Walk outside of that box I so nicely built for
And to that
My voice finally shines out
Blending with the colors I have learned from the holes I managed to poke through
Seeing the hatred
Belted and blighted and pounded with
And I now say, and I now admit
That this box is a construct
Meet Jessica, she's 18 years old. She wakes up one Sunday morning to expect her mother hassling her to get into her Church clothing, to see that she "sees" no one! A helpful "alien" assists with the situation to tell her that all humans have become invisible, and that she is the last one left in existence. During so, the alien tries to coax her into joining the Aliens ideal goal to "cleanse" the universe. Suddenly, one of the "invisible" humans captures her as he takes her into a safe house from the violent acting ones. He explains that the Aliens did this not to cleanse, but to in fact kill imperfections they had created billions of years ago!
Which side will this heroine take?
When the moon rises and the streets are empty, it feels like no one is alive. The window behind the bed made it feel like an escape route each time she fell into deep slumber. She'd toss and turn in wonder to what she may dream about every single night. Would it be nightmare or could it be something she'd tell her friends about in the morning? At whatever time the rambling in her head had finally ceased, and her body managed to shut down at night, she soared through the skies. Her mind wandered where she would be tonight. Should she go to France? Perhaps Toyko? Each night it got further from home. She wished to leave this place. It wasn't for her.
Out there laid the open air and independence she yearned for. But here, she was reduced to scrubbing toilets and cleaning dishes. The work here was far too harsh for her.This life of cooking and cleaning and washing and talking and being so nice that it turned to artificial sugar was a lie. On her knees from dawn to dust, she found dreams the only place she could hide. They took her away. They asked no permission. They stole her consciousness away, and for each and every night, she was allowed to roam the streets in peace.
She could smile to everyone she know, and go around town as a normal girl. Talk to those friends that were too far from her house. See those people who need advice. No sense of direction to take, and she could be as reckless as can be. There was no such thing as "hiding" in her dreams. What was there to hide from?
However, if she did decide to hide, it would most likely be a nightmare. They rarely took their place at night, but it happens to the best of us. We dream something scary. Something that lingers in the mind and catches us off guard before we go to sleep. We forget to dismiss the thought before running off into what our brains found for the late show.
It starts slowly, as if it were to be a regular dream. No need to hide to be scared. Just sit around and wait for what comes next. But it happens. You see that thing you're afraid of, and you know you can't face it. You don't know if it's real or not, it just exists to you. You run, you hide, but somewhere deep within your soul you never quite feel safe. But, as all nightmares are, there comes a time where you can no longer allude what you are afraid of. It stares at you with dark, growling eyes, and demands redemption. Right before it overcomes you with disdain, your eyes pop open to reality. Your whole body is shaking. You hope you didn't pass out, or worse, get hurt by what seemed so real. You touch yourself so much it seems narcissistic, but it's only to make sure you are you.
While some close their eyes to bite the bullet again, others lie away at night. They wonder what will happen if they dare close their eyes again. Will that mental image appear, on top of her? Would it growl in her ear, with a bark so loud it would wake her up and coerce her out of bed?
Through the metallic noise outside, and the fear on the inside, has she become stronger already?
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