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Literature Text
I am a witch who seeks for skins.
Late at night I get a beautiful girl,
back at my dungeon I take the
flesh and make it my own.
Each new skin brings me youth,
which gives me power.
Villagers come and hunt for me,
too bad they'll never catch me.
Skins I need more skins'
I shall hunt for skins.
The more skins,the more power,
the more they will hunt me,
but I don't care,I just want
skins.
Look at her,
the most beautiful skin in
the village.
I shall hunt her down.
Come to me,yes come!
Come give me power!
Wait!
What's this?
Villagers hunting me down,
I run but they caught me'
I have lost my skin.
Fire,it burns my power,
my skin,
its burning me down,
once its over ill be in Hell.
But in Hell I cant get more skins.
Therefore I shall chant,
a curse giving my soul
immortality.
My skin is gone,
but my soul is not.
Say my name three times,
while looking in a mirror.
Why look in a mirror?
That's an easy answer,
you shall look at the mirror,
so you can look at your
skin one last time.
Yes,that's right, I still
search for skins,
since I am the deadly
Bloody Mary.
PandoraMichaelis
Literature
Die
Die:
Such a simple word, spewed without thought.
"I wish you'd die, I wish you'd be killed."
But what if we actually gave meaning to those words?
Can you understand the emotion, the magnitude, the weight,
Of actually seeing the life of an individual depart?
Can you look them in the eyes, as they bleed into your hands;
Observing their final moments, as the light fades from their eyes?
Or are you simply a soft-hearted coward,
Sitting fat behind a computer, wishing death upon others?
To say that one is deserving of death,
Suggests that you are ready to kill.
And if indeed you are ready to kill,
Then you too must be prepared to die.
Literature
I Am Not Dead !!!
You!
Who are you!
Who are you to call me dead.
I am the author.
I am the poet.
These words you read are mine
and mine alone.
On this work
is all rights reserved.
Who.
Who are you
Who are you to say the author is dead.
With each word i breathe.
The rhythm is my pulse.
The poem is my soul's cry from within me
Contained in this written form.
My poetry is evidence of my life.
I am not dead but alive forevermore.
Who are you to call me dead?
Who are you to disregard my intentions
my opinions, my life
in favor of your own ideas.
To disregard me is to disregard my poetry.
Each poem is a piece of me,
whether i distance myself or not.
I
I am sti
Literature
Hate
I hate you
because I love you
I hate you
because you were my friend
I hate you
because I trusted you
I hate you
because you left
I hate myself
For letting you go
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so this is a poem of the thoughts of Bloody Mary.
the plot is basically the story of Bloody Mary although im not sure if she took the girls for the skins so I just made that up.
now, may I have your skin?
the plot is basically the story of Bloody Mary although im not sure if she took the girls for the skins so I just made that up.
now, may I have your skin?
© 2013 - 2024 PandoraMichaelis
Comments26
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That's a great work ! I love it. And, no, you'll not have my skin ...
And, if I may, isn't it "look at your skin one last time"instead of "look at you skin one last time" ?
And, if I may, isn't it "look at your skin one last time"instead of "look at you skin one last time" ?