Old Poems, New Images

 Hey all!  No new part yet as I am still trying to write, and I got to go soon for sleep, but after someone reminded me of my old poems, I thought I would put them on here as well.  So this is the new photos I have recently done and my old poems I like to revisit.    Enjoy! ~

 

Additively  Combatant

I picked myself off the floor and stood up once again.

Most people go though a quick conscious check-up to see if there is any damage of memory,

Like 'who am I, where am I, what am I doing here, why am I doing this?'

As if waking up from a dream, filled with doubt about what is real and is still the dream.

But I knew what was going on.

I knew what I was doing.

It's an addiction.

And I can't stop.

It's not like smoking, alcohol, or other drugs.

Growing up is all about getting hurt and then getting over it.

You hurt. You recover. You move on.

Each time you come out of it a little stronger.

But this pain is like a blazing hot reminder that I'm still alive.

And It smelled like blood.

It's an addiction.

And I won't stop.

For love will people mutilate themselves and murder rivals.

But what of those other people who have no love?

You better stop assuming the pain you feel is anything unique or special.

Well, I doubt just telling you that will do any good.

So why not just keep coming at me? Maybe getting your ass kicked will do you some good.

I know it helped me.

It's an addiction.

And I will never stop.

 Answer

"I stare into the night and my blood starts to rise. 

It turns as my eye fixes upon the darkness within the shadows. 

It moves slowly as my hearing picks up the noises 

And the cold feelings that dwell within the lack light. 

It hurries as I notice the excitement! It waits...
Pride, jealousy, anger, regret, fear, courage... 

These lead to insanity.
Or is it insanity that leads to these things?
Who knows in this messed up world of sheeps and wolves of moonlight.
But we keep going...
And that is why you are so interesting."
~Scare

What makes a King out of a Slave?

"It causes us to do strange things...
This feeling within.
It makes us rise when we have fallen.
It makes us run when we need to move.
It makes us hold what we want to last.
And it makes us attack what we want to defend.
It's there. In the fear of what is.
I'm so scared of it.
Scared of it leaving and of it coming.
Scared of losing it and finding it again.
Scared of being it and of not living up to it.
But you... You have that same fear.
And you stood by it.
How I wish I was you.
So even though I am terrified of it, it is something that I must have to be near you.
This scary feeling... This thing you call courage."
- Nul