You might think that I hate you, that I'm full of spite, but really I'm grateful 'cause what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I may be dented and all cut up, but never completely broken. Always able to repair, indestructible.   I don't care what you think, this is me, this is my life so just stop with all your bashes and blows.  I'm done being your punching bag.  You need to realize that the person you're hurting the most is yourself.  I'm sorry there's no one there to patch you up, but that's because you chased them all away.  You were so blind.  I pity you. Just don't expect me to help you.  Watch out, the punching bag is punching back.

A Grimm Point of View

I'm stuck in a fairytale with no happy ending.
Cinderella's has to do her chores.
Sleeping Beauty has to lay there, forever waiting.
Snow White has to flee from the Queen.
Ariel has to talk without a voice.
But I constantly have to deal with you, the reader.  You're always babbling on about how my stories are so unrealistic.  Well, you wanna know why?  It's because I never get an "all ends well" day, so the least I can do is give that to my characters. 

I bet you're already thinking but no, the fairytales are written by the Brothers Grimm, not a little girl.  Well, you judgemental know-it-all reader, you are wrong.  I wrote all the stories.  My brothers just didn't think it was right to have a girl writer.  They thought I would bring shame upon the family name.  So, they took the credit.  I told everyone that I wrote the stories, but no one would believe a little girl over two full grown men.  They sold hundreds of books filled with my stories, and do you know what they did when the readers wanted more?  They came crawling back to me and begged me to write more stories.  Right now I'm considering whether to make some sort of deal with them or to just laugh in their faces and refuse.

I got it!  I'll tell them that as long as they admit to everyone that it was their little sister that wrote the stories, I'll write another book full of fairytales.  Of course, I'll also get half of the income.  Oh yeah! I'm going to be the richest kid in town, or maybe even the world.

Now you're probably thinking, but why is your life so unhappy?   That's because I only have a few more months to live.  A couple months ago, I was diagnosed with a disease that spreads across the body and slowly shuts it down.  It's already spread all the way up my legs.  I can't walk.  The doctor says I will lose the use of my hands in a couple weeks.  That means no writing.  Writing is my life, so if my writing goes, it makes sense that my life goes as well.

I better start writing, while I still can.

Angels and Demons

Angel wings
Demon fire
Rule the world
Never tire

Kill the living 
Save the dead
Always late
Never ahead

Set fire to the shadows
Snuff out the light
Good and Evil
A never-ending fight

Man Story

Oh my God.  She's so hot.  She's a librarian, but the nerdy thing is so cool.  I'm twenty-two and I've finally found love.  The guys don't know though.  I would never hear the end of it if they found out that me, an unemotional hot shot biker dude, has a crush on the local librarian.  Her name is Marge.  Johnny and Marge, sounds pretty good, doesn't it?  The problem is, she doesn't like "trouble makers", and me having tattoos up and down my arms with a Harley, yeah, I should just get a tat on my forehead that says "trouble". 

I'm going to finally ask her out.  Here I go.  "Hey babe, you wanna go out?"  She's turning around and... Oh My God!  I asked out the wrong librarian!  I forgot, the old librarian works on Tuesdays, today is Tuesday!  I just asked out a grandma!  How did I not notice the gray hair?  I need to get out of here.  

Why wont the ******* door open?!  Okay, here we go, in the parking lot, I'm good now. WORST DAY EVER!  I'm gonna get a beer.  

I love this bar. 
Great, the only open seat is next to some chick.  "Can I sit here?"

"Yeah."

It's her!  Okay, okay, act cool. What should I say?  Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?  No, no time for a pick up line.  It's now or never.

"Aren't you the librarian?"

"Just 'cause I'm a librarian doesn't mean I don't drink."

"I'm cool with that.  Hey bartender, two beers please."

"I'm astounded.  You actually have manners."

"Just 'cause I'm a biker doesn't mean I don't say please."

She just smiled.  I made her smile.  Okay, I can do this.  For the second time today, I'm going to ask out a librarian.

"Wanna go out with me?"


"Umm, I'm married."

****!  Are you serious?  I asked out a ******* grandma for nothing?!  This is bull ****!  What the **** is up with me having bad luck?!  This day ******* sucks!

Suicidal

Author's Note:  This is not a true piece.  I am not suicidal.

I am sitting in a puddle, a puddle of disappointments, loss, and blood.
I watch as the puddle grows bigger.
It is no longer a puddle.
I am drowning in this pool.
Don't help me.
Don't pity me.
This is what I wanted. 
I'm happy now.

The Window

I am shunned.  I am a disgrace to my family.  I am the only dirty window in the entire mansion.  Just because I am a basement window, doesn't mean you shouldn't clean me.  My entire family literally looks down at me.  I am no longer allowed to call myself a part of the Glass family, but it's not because of anything that I did!  It's not my fault the stupid humans always forget about the window in the basement! 
Here I am, collecting dust mites.  Come find me.  Please! 

A Tale of Perfect Insanity

She looks right through me with hollow eyes.

She laughs and gains seven more seconds of life.  

Seven seconds taken from the life of every pure soul.

A demon in disguise.

Hiding like a coward.

Preying on the innocent.

Recruiting the dark.

Destroyed only in the fire of good and evil.

Golden hair, charcoal soul, how ironic.

I'm suffocating in this room.  I'm getting smothered by too many unimaginative minds.  Let me out of this mind prison!  I must be freed!  My death will be the downfall of all.  

The freedom bell is rung.  I am released, physically.  But still, my mind remains in that black hole.  That horrible trap.  The jail cell called: a classroom.  My demonic teacher has stolen my thoughts and my freedom.  I am forever trapped in the tight clasp of the fist of my teacher.  I will never again be free.

Trailing Traces

Traces, a hand print

cemented, permanent

A constant reminder of the past.

A gentle breeze, a whispering memory

Forever today, a predicted tomorrow

A murderous night

The moon the weapon, sharp and deadly

Mars, the planet to collect the blood

Up, the sky, always a remembrance of the hand print on the moon

You're like a rain cloud on a sunny day

You're like a blizzard in the middle of May

You're like a dangerous storm when I'm out at sea

Oh, that's just how it is between you and me

You look down on me like you're God himself, gazing at his people from the sky

You look like one of those guys that rush through life and never stop to ask why

You look , but never see

Oh, that's just how it is between you and me

You never followed, just always led

You never cried or mourned for the dead

You never stop to wait for me

Oh, that's just how it is between you and me, don't you see?

We're just a reoccurring pattern, repetitive days

We're just stupid to never change our ways

We're just a  teetering tower, waiting to fall

Because you just have to go and ruin it all

Catch Me if I Fall

Catch me if I fall,
If I fall in love
I fall into your arms
Your eyes catch my gaze
You caught me
Catch the disease before it's fatal
Save me if I'm dying
Live as if you'll die tomorrow
After today, there's always tomorrow
Today is your day
You are one of a kind
All for one and one for all
You are my world, you are my life, you are my one and only,
So catch me if I fall

The City of Sorrow

She was born on the day that all sorrows ceased, in the city where the walls reached out to the sky.  The day was called la fin de la guerre, for it was the day that the battle between the kingdoms ended.  The child was rightfully named Mira Irene.

The King, after hearing about this child for months, wanted to meet her.  His squire piped up. "But sir, your Highness, she cannot even speak yet." 

"Then let her first words be spoken in my castle.  Send a messenger to her city.  I must meet this child." The King boomed across the courtyard. 

"Your Highness, why, may I ask, is this girl so important to you?"

"She was born on they day that the five year old war ended.  Her father died in that war.  The people say that it was she who ended the war, that some great power is held inside her.   Her mother named her Mira Irene , after the Greek goddess of peace. Don't you think it the littlest bit strange that a child is born and named after peace and not even five hours after her birth, a war that has been going on for five years suddenly stops?"

"It is only a coincidence."

"I think not.  Now, send the messenger and stop questioning my commands."

"Yes, your Highness." The squire sighed.

The widow and her young child received the message and made way to the castle immediately.  The king was delighted at how fast they had arrived.  "Ah, this must be the famous Mira.  May I hold her?"

"Of course, your Highness."  The King picked up baby Mira, and held her against his shoulder, bouncing her lightly.  The bouncing, of course, caused little Mira to spittle on the King.  "Oh, I am so dreadfully sorry, your Highness."  The mother apologized as she collected the now giggling baby from the King.

"Don't be.  Her laughter is so pleasantly joyful, I'm glad I got to hear it, and better yet, be the cause of it."  Just then, Mira spoke her first word, something that she had heard the King say.

"Laughter."  She scrunched up her face as she said it, as if it tasted odd on her tongue.

The next day, the King invited them to join him for lunch.  They accepted and met at the table in the main dining room.  It could seat 20 people, so the three of them sat at the far right end, with the King, of course, at the head of the table.

"I hear the little one's birthday is coming up." The King said.

"Yes, your Highness, she will be a year old in two days."

"Well, I would like you to stay at the castle and celebrate her birthday here.  I'll throw a party for her."

"Oh, your Highness, that's too kind, you needn't make such a big deal."

"No, no.  I insist."

"Well then, we accept the offer.  Thank you your Highness."

It was a party so big the entire kingdom was invited.  There were drinks, food, games and prizes.  The ballroom was opened and music played and people danced.  Oh, and the cake, the magnificent structure of  dessert.  10 feet wide, 15 feet tall, it was modeled in the shape of a dove.  It was brought out and everyone turned to look at the display.   Since the cake was so big, everyone was able to get a slice. 

Hours later, the King chatted and joked with Mira's mother.  One of his jokes got the mother laughing so hard she had to lean against the castle wall to keep her balance.  But she tipped over the edge a bit more than she intended and her muscle control had gone from her laughing.  Her arms fell loose and she dropped what she had been holding.  They were on the highest floor of the castle, and what she had dropped over the edge was baby Mira. 

The child  tumbled through the air and her mother watched, horrified at what she had done.  A little cloud of dust came up from where the baby had hit the ground.  A scream shredded the air. 

And so, the girl who was birthed in the ashes of sorrow, died in the echos of laughter.