I'm Out Of Inspiration And Bored So If Anyone Has Any Ideas/prompts Or Just Wants To Request A Poem,

“how did you get into writing” girl nobody gets into writing. writing shows up one day at your door and gets into you

✨reblog if you're accepting anonymous asks about anything✨

La lune solitaire,

Dans le ciel, elle erre seule,

Son éclat, sa douleur.

The lonely moon's light,

In the sky, it wanders alone,

Its glow, its pain.

Found this on pinterest a while ago and thought I'd try writing something.

It was raining again.

The girl watched from her window, eyes dazed as she focused on the sounds. There had been a time when she would hope for the message to change, for a • to change into a –. She had learnt over time to stop being delusional; the rain always brought bad news. Today, it was simple: a one word sentence, the same word, over and over, warning her of something she could not escape.

•–• ••– –•

Run.

How was she supposed to run from the rain? To hide from the sky? She had thought it would be a good idea to learn Morse Code, it would have been a great addition to her resume once she would go to college. But she had never thought the rain would drive her crazy. The dip-drip-drop of the water and the clip-clip-clop on her window was slowly making her drown in madness. The chaos of this horrendous symphony was taking over her every thought in a mess of what used to be genius.

Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.

She hated the rain, she had learned to fear its message for it was never wrong.

Your father planted a tree and said, ‘As long as this tree is alive and healthy, so is my son.’ That was 200 years ago. Today, the tree still stands, defying time, but what of the son?

Reblog if you’ve made amazing friends online and are grateful for their existence

“ For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen: a gaseous nebula must collapse.

So collapse. Crumble.

This is not your destruction.

This is your birth. ”

Zoe Skylar

To any suicidal followers I may have: This is a sign to not kill yourself. You are loved and the world is special because you are in it. Keep holding on.

-PLEASE REBLOG THIS YOU MAYBE ARE SAVING SOMEONES LIFE

You are special and amazing , If you need to talk or some help send me a dm and I will talk to you.

What the fuck just happened, he thought as he stood in a white room.

One moment he was in his garden, fixing the new table he had built, and the next he was in a seemingly never-ending white space. Was this heaven or something ? Had he died? Or maybe this was some kind of hospital room – could be, the lights there are always so blinding!

"Hello?" He called out, anxiously. "Anyone's there?"

He turned in slow circles, half expecting something to attack him from nowhere.

He jumped as a door opened with a swoosh – he swore there was nothing but white there a moment ago ! Some kind of creature walked in, wearing an astronaute-like combinaison. Could have been a human if not for its sluggish gray skin and mop of tantacles where hair should be. Its unnaturally black eyes didn't help either.

What was this thing? Where was he? Was this a dream? He pinched himself to check ; it hurt.

The alien-monster-astronaute spoke, clicking furiously at its collar. "Is this translation device working?" Then, slower, "can you understand me?"

He nodded, not quite grasping on the situation at hand. The alien – it had to be that – continued. "Listen, I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for three days so I can get my parents off my back." It explained.

I'm sorry, what? He thought.

Frowning, he voiced his concerns. "Wait, hold on. What are you? And where am I – how am I here?"

The alien smiled then, contempt that he hadn't rejected its proposal just yet. "My name is—"

He guessed that translation device didn't work well because the next sounds didn't seem like words, or a name for that matter.

"— and I come from the planet," some more unintelligible words. "You are in my spaceship."

He shook his head, almost laughing at the impossible situation he was in. He was in space, with an alien who wanted him to pretend to be its boyfriend for three days. Who would believe that?

"Sure," he finally answered. "I'll do it, I'll be your fake boyfriend."

Would it have been anyond else, they probably would be freaking out right now. But he personally didn't care. He was going to do that just because why not? It wasn't like he had much to loose anyway.

You were just sucked up and abducted by a UFO. The alien inside addresses you, “Is this translator working? Listen. I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for three days so my parents will get off my back about it.”

Time

If I were to ask you which feeling is worst,

What would you say?

Would you tell me how hate is such a vile host,

Or would you rather speak of sadness's tragedy?

Perhaps you'd even go as far as considering apathy.

But if I were to answer such a question,

I would say being forgotten.

Have you ever even thought

Of your memory being brought to a stop?

If people didn't recognize you today,

Would that be okay?

For what do humans aim to do,

Building and painting our world gray?

Leaving a trace so their memory won't fade away.

Can you pretend you wouldn't too,

If I threatened to forget you?

Death is far from the scariest,

But rather the thought of turning into nothing again,

For every person's memory

Never lasts for eternity.

You may be a genius, a scientist in all your glory,

But what good is it if you're not committed to history?

So if I were to ask you again what the worst feeling was,

Would you change your answer or accept the reality of time?