The Experimentals, Chapter 1
The Experimentals, Chapter 1 Lydia watched her four other siblings as they tackled one another in the dank room they inhabited. She had three brothers, named Lakruse, Kriktus, and Krakis, and one younger sister, named Trixsilia. “Hiyah!” Kriktus squeaked as he attempted to tackle his older brother. Krakis dodged, and gently cuffed his ear before Lakruse, the middle brother, tackled him. Krakis was the oldest out of her litter. Trixsilia joined in the squabble. “I’m going to be the best warrior ever!” She piped as she swiped at the nearest brother, Krakis, before he could react. Surprised, he dropped to the floor, and all of his other brothers jumped onto him and howled in victory. Their mother, Yuki, watched with pride. “No, I am!” Lakruse growled playfully as he lunged at Trixsilia. Krakis saw his chance. He leaped u
Symphony of SpringThe golden sun cracks his whip,Glorious warmth and majestic splendorOf rays touch the cracked, desolate earth.Springtime tingles as it reaches skywardIts innocent fingertips.Life unfurls and yearning budsCrack open their radiant heartsTo feel.To be.To laugh.To love.Insects, their bejeweled bodies dazzling with beautyFrisk among playful breezes and tulip petals,Soft as a lady's gown.Feathered angels sing praises toThe dayThe new dayThe exalted day.Then...The wind kisses the ground,Like a lover's farewell.The king of the skies retires,To begin the reign of his lovely bride,Clothed in the purest of silks,Her pearlescent train brushing the quivering treetops,As they welcome her arrival.Daisies yawn as butterflies,With painted wings,Take refuge under their cooling leaves,And satin petals.To withdraw.To reminisce.To rest.To dream.The land becomes breathlessAs frogs and crickets harmonizeTo welcomeThe nightThe peaceful nightThe divine night.
do not tell me i am not brokeni need people to stop telling methat i am not brokenthat i am not cracked open and spillingout of the shell they created for methe shell that clings and suffocates mei need them to stop saying thatthey'll fix the splitsthat they'll fill them in with concreteand make it betterbecause i am drowning in peoplewho think that they are supportivethat think i am theirs to mold and shapei am not a vase, i am broken chinasmashing against the ground over and overin frustration because i cannot be the kindof beautiful that you want to beyou cannot paint over me and expectthe sharp tongue and the hard eyesto go awayi am brokeni am spilling outi am ripping my way through membraneand shell to find light so that i can breathein something other than liesand i am afraid, i am so afraidof a world where nothing holds me inwhere it is only mewhere i am free to move my arms and legsto dance, to sing, to speak outbut i need iti need to feel a wind that isn't yourharsh breath do
Wow, that's an excellent drawing of a horse!,
I wish I had a horse with wings now