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21 popular deviations submitted in all of time in Literature      for brushes gimp     

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A Mite Of IntrospectionAs I stand upon the precipice of change, i notice a commotion, inside. Caged feelings instead wander about, proverbial freaks on leashes. Misshapen and deformed, they glare ever-so-quizically at me. Yo miro a ellos, pero yo no penso mucho.   
I wander about the damned cliff, trying to determine whether or not to take the leap of faith. Debate whispers in my ears, a silent argument, not a raucous caucus.   
Practically frozen in my fear of self, i noticed an emotional miasma, billowing over me. Ebbing and flowing, it was reacting to me.   
Slowly regaining my senses, i was overwhelmed by scents. It was strange. Th A Mite Of Introspection
in Poetry
The Ending Minute
in Poetry
Jericho Rising 1Our front-man was out. Sitting stone cold in a mental hospital and I was the only one that could save him. But I didn’t know if I could, or if I really wanted to. I was scared of what he would do to me when he snapped. I’d be a dead man for saving him, my best friend.  I wonder what one of our songs describes this situation, Gavin must have hinted in more than one of his verses. Saving You, Destroying the World is the one that comes to mind, but I’m not really sure. I’ll have to think about that, maybe pull up our MySpace page.  
I’m Shawn Newport, by the way. Lead Guitarist for Siege of Jericho. Gavin Cartm Jericho Rising 1
in Prose
Creation of the Dreyas Waste  The last of the violent rumblings faded to muted tremors, which in turn gave way to be replaced by a sudden stillness; the gale, which had risen to a fevered pitch, died without warning, leaving a ringing silence in its wake...    Celwyn Torris opened his eyes and light stabbed into his brain, sharp and bright, making his head throb dully as his entire body was wracked by pain. Biting back a cry, he struggled to raise himself from the bare patch of earth where he lay; he fell back with a muffled sob as fire seemed to race along his side and he realized he couldn't feel his legs. Looking down at himself, he knew he w Creation of the Dreyas Waste
in Prose
Cloud Poem
in Poetry
Seeing Death -literally-
in Poetry
Treasure Found
in Poetry
Til You Need A Friend
in Poetry
Imprisoned
in Poetry
I Think I Saved A Butterfly
in Poetry
Capture MeDon't try to capture me  when I'm like this.  I'm not okay with that,  afraid my pain might show  on the final product,  afraid your camera  might catch the silent tears  that you fail to see.  I'll fake a smile,  even a laugh,  but I'm not sure  that will be enough.  What if that imposter  cracks when the flash  goes off?  What if the lens  focuses on the pain  in my eyes?  Go on, stare all you want.  But don't capture me.  Point and criticise,  laugh and talk behind my back.  But don't capture me.  Don't you see?  I'm tryi Capture Me
in Poetry
Me, My Worst Critic
in Poetry
Keep DreamingYou check to see if I’m fine  Why does it matter to you now?  Always double checking  I don’t know what your doing   
Keep dreaming  It’s never gonna happen   
You left  Haven’t heard a word since  The only words I heard  Were something fake  Predictable, Scripted  As you are.   
Smile but eyes are turned away  Thinking secret thoughts  Nothing you’ll ever say.   
To what you said you liked  Deniable facts now  It really all was a lie  No matter what you say  It shows just by anything you do  You never felt that way  It Keep Dreaming
in Poetry
Fact.1Fact.  By Sinead   
 
 Had there been a murder in the family, there couldn’t have been more shock displayed. It was all but considered death to admit to changing views in this manner.   
 The beautiful young woman, her curly hair a dark brown, hung her head to hide her reddened cheeks and the tears in her eyes. “But . . .”   
 “If you think that you’re going to bring that belief into my house young lady, you will soon find yourself begging relatives for a place to stay!” Her father glared down at her, shaking with rage, his brown gaze flashing under salt-and- Fact.1
in Prose
Cry The Colors Of My LifeAimlessly moving from day to day  Clinging to life, but can't just find one, not in one day  Hopelessly moaning after your name  Fearing the curse called shame   
My life seems to be black  I want the past to come back  Even though I can see my life is colorful  I still want to make my own life so painful  by placing these thorns on my bed  And so I have horns on my head   
I want to cry to make my life blue  I want to smile to make my life yellow  I want to kill to make my life red  I want to be held close to make my life light red  I want to mock you to make my Cry The Colors Of My Life
in Poetry
WISH
in Poetry
WorthlessThe loneliness had come  
I was just about to succumb  When you began to spread your light  and my heart began its flight   
I saw your face and the pain went away  I felt like I had not on any other day  I saw your smile and my tears began to dry  For I had no more reason to cry  I heard your voice sweet as an angels song  and I realized Id known you all along  I felt your warmth as soothing as the sun  I felt your pain as the tears began to run   
Through and Through Ive poured my soul to you  I hope one day Ill be there for you Worthless
in Poetry
Dream Invasion
in Poetry
You
in Poetry
+Skysong+ -Prologue-A fire crackled merrily under Jonathan’s watchful eye. He and his wife, Lana, were expecting company this night, and they wanted to be prepared. They sat in the dancing light and waited patiently, discussing the person they were expecting.    “Yes, it’s good we’ll get to see him again! Kane’s been gone to the mainland for too long.” Jonathan said with a nod, his blue eyes closed in thought. “I wonder if he ever married, that one was always avoiding the girls…”    Lana laughed, “I remember it well! For a time you were jealous of him, with his looks he outdid you a bit, John.” She sighed and rocked back in her chair. “I only +Skysong+ -Prologue-
in Prose
DiscordChapter I       “I'll make sure they pay for every single innocent they've harmed!” Reldoth exclaimed with the usual rough edge to his voice amplified now. The kitchen door opened smoothly on its well-oiled hinges. In stepped a young man in his late teens. He was fairly tall and had bright green eyes full of life. His light brown hair was held in a loose ponytail that reached down just below his shoulders.  “You're not talking about that idiotic war again are you?” he said dismissively as he rolled his eyes.  “There's nothing idiotic about this war son – the bastards attacked a caravan along one of our Discord
in Prose

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