Infamy
Surrounded by stone angels,
Horror-stricken effigy;
Feeding naught but from their sorrow,
Craving for our sympathy.
Romantically engraved in bone,
Gifted to the empty hand;
Full of death and world destruction,
Onyx-black, reflecting sand.
Opaque shadow claiming refuge
In the temple of their minds;
Puppet actors, freewill gone
String's attached and silence binds.
Cadaverous, yet strangely pretty;
So many lies make up the mass.
Their simple lives led full of hate
And trifling with an empty glass.
See You Cry
You're a dream come undone
An endless confusion
My hopeless demise
A simple conclusion
I know that you see me
Here all alone
Depressed and depressing
A heart made of stone
You hope I don't notice
The tears that you cry
Every time that I see you
You ask yourself why
A mystery ended
And started again
You're a game that I'm stuck on
And trying to win
Your eyes burn with hatred
And I still don't know why
But tonight I will leave you
So I can't see you cry
Requiem to the Sin
The willow trees are weeping
Their golden drops of rain.
How now, fair maiden,
A lively breath within?
How can thou, so beautiful,
Truly be a sin?
Of silver hair and flower ridden dreams;
Sweet things come of whispered truths
Told only to the wind.
Your handsome Prince comes riding, dear,
Calling only to the wind,
'Thou art but a sin'.
Part Two:
Fainting
It has barely been two months since Mary has seen Tom. At night, she sees him in her dreams and in the day, she sees his face in everyone. She now sits back on the very hill where this story began and silently pleads for him to come to her. Please, Tom, please, she cries in her mind, wishing them together. "Really, now, Mary. You should be more dignified than this," scolds a voice from behind her. Instinctively, Mary jumps to run, but realizes that her prayers have been answered; Tom stands behind her, blocking the moon.
"Tom!" she exclaims and throws her arms around his neck in a sloppy hug. He steps away and says, "I
Part One:
The Former Thomas O'Hanlon
Sitting alone on the hill, Mary yawns the huge signature yawn that only the white lilies on the pond ever get to see. In a sleep-like daze, she gets up with a futile attempt at avoiding grass stains on her long, faded cotton dress. A sudden sting on her arm lets her know that the mosquitoes are out and she needs to be home. Stumbling down the well-worn path to her family's cabin, she spots a blur moving through the trees. Still in a fog from the mountain air, she thinks, I wonder who's running so fast. They must be late to something important. As if in an instant, the full moon is out and darkness has f
The Silver Dress
A Short Story
For some reason, she decided to go to the restaurant. She knew she probably wouldn't get in; after all, he was going to be there tonight. She'd never even seen him, only heard people going on about how amazing he was. She wasn't even sure what he was famous for, but famous he was. She'd never really given him much thought, but tonight something was compelling her to go. Some primal urge deep in her psyche screamed at her to hurry up and get there so maybe she could get a table.
It's not like it was that great of a restaurant, but it had great service and passed for elegant in her town. She knew that if she