Under the surface of the ever-moving ocean, it is calm.
There are hardly any sounds bouncing about the vast space, and the ones that are have been muted, many times over. The roaring of a ship’s engines, mighty as a lion, is only a faint humming sound, lebih felt than heard as it vibrates its way through your body.
You’re floating, floating in a mass of blue. The only thing anda can see is blue, blue, and blue – different shades, some lighter than others, some dark as a winter night in the North, but blue nonetheless. Now that anda think about it, it’s slightly disturbing – oppressive, even… though that, anda then realise, may just be the pressure of the masses of water around you. It’s pressing anda in, trying to squeeze you, distort you, until there’s nothing left save a tiny kismis, raisin of a person, floating through the endless masses, going where the current takes you. But as soon as these imej enter your mind, the oppressing masses seem to lessen as the pressure leaves, and anda find anda can breathe again, even though a small portion of your brain appears to find that odd – as if anda weren’t supposed to be breathing.
This small fact is clawing at your mind, trying to convince the rest of you, but anda do your best to ignore it, because honestly, logic is overrated. Instead, anda try moving your limbs of the first time, finding to your delight that movement is indeed possible, if slow and clumsy. anda bring your hand up to your face, and then stare at it in shock: it does not look remotely like that tiny part of your brain – the logical one – says it should look. The rest of anda ignores that tiny minority, as insignificant as a single soldier in a battalion.
It’s pale, that hand of yours. So pale, and thinner than anda remember. anda stare at it for a while in fascination, giggling to yourself at the greenish tint, and the veins that can clearly be seen under the translucent skin. They criss-cross like labah-labah webs, in patterns unlike those anda have previously seen in hands. It’s like they’re trying to spell out something, but that single soldier has been silenced and the rest of anda doesn’t realise it, simply lets out a bubbly laugh, watching in wonder as the bubbles rise upwards, so high, until anda can’t see them anymore.
Finally tearing your attention from your hand – captivating as it is – anda start figuring out how to turn. Your movements are slow, sluggish, and awkward, and the amount of pride anda feel at successfully turning yourself around is ridiculous. But anda manage it, and that’s where the train of thought stops, because anda finally get an eyeful of what’s been behind anda all this time.
In stark contrast to the endless masses of blue now behind you, the scene anda face now is full of colour and movement. In your head anda hear Muzik playing, a lively jig anda know you’ve never heard before but still seems achingly familiar. As you’re pushing yourself to the limit, trying to remember it, anda catch sight again of the whirling colours.
It takes a while, but your poor brain, frantically trying to revive that single soldier, finally makes sense of the confusion. The blurs slowly begin to resemble shapes – it’s almost as if anda were slowing down the action. Whatever it was that happened, anda can now clearly see the multitudes of small fishes racing around the space. They’re red, and they’re blue. They’re purple. They’re green, and yellow, and magenta, and indigo, and colours that anda can’t even name. They’re polka-dotted, and striped, and tie-dyed, and more. You’ve barely had enough time to register this as the ikan suddenly part, revealing to anda the mountains of corals behind them.
It is like nothing you’ve ever seen – even though anda suddenly remember having seen lots of under-water splendour, some time far in your past. This is absolutely nothing like that. These corals form a magnificent archway, to a place anda can’t see. What anda can see, however, is the arch itself. It towers high above you; anda can’t see where it ends. (This reminds anda of laughing, and anda let a small giggle escape your lips in a awan of those tiny bubbles, so constant in their amusingness). To the sides, the walls on either side of the arch extend as far as the eye can see, and anda get the uncanny feeling that if anda were to follow it in either direction, you’d either quit atau die doing it. Everything about those walls screamed endless! and unbreachable! even though anda were currently staring at a rather obvious breach – it couldn’t have been lebih obvious if it had a huge sign hanging from it saying “BREACH dinding HERE”.
The dinding itself, though, while not screaming all kinds of things about its breachabilty and whatnot, was really a sight for sore eyes. anda struggled to take it all in: the gilded parapets, the pearls embedded in the brickwork, the brilliant, multi-coloured flags flying every thirty feet atau so, the marine plants and vines twining themselves up and down the walls; the hazy keseluruhan effect, like the dinding and the accompanying archway were continually subject to change, never quite finding a permanent form. They radiated colour like so many tiny prisms, all the colours of the pelangi, rainbow and them some. anda could honestly admit to never having seen half of them before.
Even as anda begin to drift towards the arch, the poor soldier in your brain starts pounding on the inside of your head, insisting that this is not a good idea. You, however, do not understand how it could be so: the soldier is simply causing a headache, and anda find that the closer anda get to the arch, the weaker its protests become, until the pounding has finally lessened to a small throbbing. anda open your eyes (unaware of when they had drifted shut) and find yourself to be at the very foot of the arch.
Suddenly, anda find that listening to that soldier might well have been a good idea. Up close, the arch doesn’t look that inviting, atau even beautiful: as anda stepped (or rather, drifted) into the effect of the haze, its wondrous properties wore away and anda can now see the arch for what it is, not what the haze made it out to be.
The gilded parapets anda had so admired are faded and chipped, reduced to a dull brown colour, covered in seaweed and limpets. There are simply round holes left were anda thought there were pearls, and the flags hang in limp, grey tatters. The vines have long since died, but they left their legacy behind, covering the dinding in its entirety, claiming as much territory as possible before having (you imagine) gone out with a bang.
Upon seeing this, the soldier restarts its frantic banging against your skull, imploring anda to get as far from the now derelict arch as possible. anda can’t think clearly (you can’t remember when anda last could), and your head seems to be full of sand (you wouldn’t even be surprised at that). The soldier continues its solitary beat, and anda know that something just isn’t right, but anda can’t help but alih ever closer to the arch.
You’re getting closer now – ten feet remain between anda and the arch – and the ikan behind anda seem to have restarted their earlier whirling dance. The Muzik in your head begins again, and the confusion from earlier is back, and in the midst of this you’re still drifting towards that arch (only two feet remain). You’re now trying actively to get away, to get back, but for every inch of purchase anda gain on the shifting sand, anda drift another two forward. The dance behind anda is increasing in speed, and the Muzik in volume, and the atmosphere in intensity, until finally anda menyeberang, cross under the arch into the invisible wasteland beyond.
Under the surface of the ever-moving ocean, it is calm.
There are hardly any sounds bouncing about the vast space, and the ones that are have been muted, many times over. The roaring of a ship’s engines, mighty as a lion, is only a faint humming sound, lebih felt than heard as it vibrates its way through your body.
You’re floating, floating in a mass of blue. The only thing anda can see is blue, blue, and blue – different shades, some lighter than others, some dark as a winter night in the North, but blue nonetheless. Now that anda think about it, it’s slightly disturbing – oppressive, even… though that, anda then realise, may just be the pressure of the masses of water around you. It’s pressing anda in, trying to squeeze you, distort you, until there’s nothing left save a tiny kismis, raisin of a person, floating through the endless masses, going where the current takes you. But as soon as these imej enter your mind, the oppressing masses seem to lessen as the pressure leaves, and anda find anda can breathe again, even though a small portion of your brain appears to find that odd – as if anda weren’t supposed to be breathing.
This small fact is clawing at your mind, trying to convince the rest of you, but anda do your best to ignore it, because honestly, logic is overrated. Instead, anda try moving your limbs of the first time, finding to your delight that movement is indeed possible, if slow and clumsy. anda bring your hand up to your face, and then stare at it in shock: it does not look remotely like that tiny part of your brain – the logical one – says it should look. The rest of anda ignores that tiny minority, as insignificant as a single soldier in a battalion.
It’s pale, that hand of yours. So pale, and thinner than anda remember. anda stare at it for a while in fascination, giggling to yourself at the greenish tint, and the veins that can clearly be seen under the translucent skin. They criss-cross like labah-labah webs, in patterns unlike those anda have previously seen in hands. It’s like they’re trying to spell out something, but that single soldier has been silenced and the rest of anda doesn’t realise it, simply lets out a bubbly laugh, watching in wonder as the bubbles rise upwards, so high, until anda can’t see them anymore.
Finally tearing your attention from your hand – captivating as it is – anda start figuring out how to turn. Your movements are slow, sluggish, and awkward, and the amount of pride anda feel at successfully turning yourself around is ridiculous. But anda manage it, and that’s where the train of thought stops, because anda finally get an eyeful of what’s been behind anda all this time.
In stark contrast to the endless masses of blue now behind you, the scene anda face now is full of colour and movement. In your head anda hear Muzik playing, a lively jig anda know you’ve never heard before but still seems achingly familiar. As you’re pushing yourself to the limit, trying to remember it, anda catch sight again of the whirling colours.
It takes a while, but your poor brain, frantically trying to revive that single soldier, finally makes sense of the confusion. The blurs slowly begin to resemble shapes – it’s almost as if anda were slowing down the action. Whatever it was that happened, anda can now clearly see the multitudes of small fishes racing around the space. They’re red, and they’re blue. They’re purple. They’re green, and yellow, and magenta, and indigo, and colours that anda can’t even name. They’re polka-dotted, and striped, and tie-dyed, and more. You’ve barely had enough time to register this as the ikan suddenly part, revealing to anda the mountains of corals behind them.
It is like nothing you’ve ever seen – even though anda suddenly remember having seen lots of under-water splendour, some time far in your past. This is absolutely nothing like that. These corals form a magnificent archway, to a place anda can’t see. What anda can see, however, is the arch itself. It towers high above you; anda can’t see where it ends. (This reminds anda of laughing, and anda let a small giggle escape your lips in a awan of those tiny bubbles, so constant in their amusingness). To the sides, the walls on either side of the arch extend as far as the eye can see, and anda get the uncanny feeling that if anda were to follow it in either direction, you’d either quit atau die doing it. Everything about those walls screamed endless! and unbreachable! even though anda were currently staring at a rather obvious breach – it couldn’t have been lebih obvious if it had a huge sign hanging from it saying “BREACH dinding HERE”.
The dinding itself, though, while not screaming all kinds of things about its breachabilty and whatnot, was really a sight for sore eyes. anda struggled to take it all in: the gilded parapets, the pearls embedded in the brickwork, the brilliant, multi-coloured flags flying every thirty feet atau so, the marine plants and vines twining themselves up and down the walls; the hazy keseluruhan effect, like the dinding and the accompanying archway were continually subject to change, never quite finding a permanent form. They radiated colour like so many tiny prisms, all the colours of the pelangi, rainbow and them some. anda could honestly admit to never having seen half of them before.
Even as anda begin to drift towards the arch, the poor soldier in your brain starts pounding on the inside of your head, insisting that this is not a good idea. You, however, do not understand how it could be so: the soldier is simply causing a headache, and anda find that the closer anda get to the arch, the weaker its protests become, until the pounding has finally lessened to a small throbbing. anda open your eyes (unaware of when they had drifted shut) and find yourself to be at the very foot of the arch.
Suddenly, anda find that listening to that soldier might well have been a good idea. Up close, the arch doesn’t look that inviting, atau even beautiful: as anda stepped (or rather, drifted) into the effect of the haze, its wondrous properties wore away and anda can now see the arch for what it is, not what the haze made it out to be.
The gilded parapets anda had so admired are faded and chipped, reduced to a dull brown colour, covered in seaweed and limpets. There are simply round holes left were anda thought there were pearls, and the flags hang in limp, grey tatters. The vines have long since died, but they left their legacy behind, covering the dinding in its entirety, claiming as much territory as possible before having (you imagine) gone out with a bang.
Upon seeing this, the soldier restarts its frantic banging against your skull, imploring anda to get as far from the now derelict arch as possible. anda can’t think clearly (you can’t remember when anda last could), and your head seems to be full of sand (you wouldn’t even be surprised at that). The soldier continues its solitary beat, and anda know that something just isn’t right, but anda can’t help but alih ever closer to the arch.
You’re getting closer now – ten feet remain between anda and the arch – and the ikan behind anda seem to have restarted their earlier whirling dance. The Muzik in your head begins again, and the confusion from earlier is back, and in the midst of this you’re still drifting towards that arch (only two feet remain). You’re now trying actively to get away, to get back, but for every inch of purchase anda gain on the shifting sand, anda drift another two forward. The dance behind anda is increasing in speed, and the Muzik in volume, and the atmosphere in intensity, until finally anda menyeberang, cross under the arch into the invisible wasteland beyond.
Under the surface of the ever-moving ocean, it is calm.
Sky turns black. Memory fades. through all of this tragedy fate has taken my memories from me. No other thoughts. hati, tengah-tengah pounding. Blood racing. No lebih time for thinking. Think quick and on my feet atau death will surely get its grasp on me. As my enemy approaches i draw my sword. Once the tip of the blade is out of the sheath i hear it hit the ground as i feel a warm liquid pouring out of my open chest as blood gushes out of the wound. As i struggle to take my last breath i wake up screaming relieved that it was just a DREAM.
Hope anda mates will like it =3
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I'm looking at the black ceiling, in this empty room I sit.
I'm leaning my back on cold dinding where light of the sun can't reach me.
I don't have any peace, same pictures are repeating in my head.
The grey clouds rise above and I'm goin out for the rain.
Let the cold drops from the skies give me peace and break my sadness.
But even hard rain can't clear thoughts of you.
And feels like I'm falling in deep abyss, dark water swallowing me as I close my eyes and turn my head up to sky.
It's eating my mind, taking away my dreams.
Oh please pull me out, stay with me.
Today I'm not goin out, I'll reamin in the dark waiting for you.
I'll defy to all my desires cause I can't ask anymore from you.
I'll be Singing only for anda my angel.
Oh please pull me out, stay with me.
Feel free to comment
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I'm looking at the black ceiling, in this empty room I sit.
I'm leaning my back on cold dinding where light of the sun can't reach me.
I don't have any peace, same pictures are repeating in my head.
The grey clouds rise above and I'm goin out for the rain.
Let the cold drops from the skies give me peace and break my sadness.
But even hard rain can't clear thoughts of you.
And feels like I'm falling in deep abyss, dark water swallowing me as I close my eyes and turn my head up to sky.
It's eating my mind, taking away my dreams.
Oh please pull me out, stay with me.
Today I'm not goin out, I'll reamin in the dark waiting for you.
I'll defy to all my desires cause I can't ask anymore from you.
I'll be Singing only for anda my angel.
Oh please pull me out, stay with me.
I have this image in my head of a girl who spent the first 17 years of her life being loved. Loved sejak her parents, her brother and sister, and everyone in school. She doesn't know the meaning of hate. Then this mysterious guy come to her school. He doesn't say much and the only person he notices is her. But he is different then the other guys at her school he is too sexy to be real. They fall madly in Cinta but what she doesn't know is that he has been alive for the last 268 years. He is no vampire but something that can scare the helll out of you. And he has a immortal enemy, and that enemy is the boy who is filled with so much hate all the immortals call him...The deffinition of hate(his real name being Marcus) And the girl so finds out that Marcus will stop at nothing to take her away from him and tunjuk her what it's like to be hated
“You can’t!” I screeched, griping the thick rumput beneath my paws.
“The whole forest will belong to the Pack of Shadows!” the dark serigala, wolf exclaimed enthusiastically, his bulu flickering like shadows, “No serigala, wolf will stop us!”
I have to do something! I couldn’t let it end like this! Not with the alpha in this state! Not with the pack perpecahan, berpecah in four!
“Out of my way pup!” he tossed me aside like a tiny mouse.
“No!” I leaped at him, biting and clawing with all my strength.
“This is pointless! anda cannot defeat me she-wolf!” I felt him bite me and fling me away again. I was too tired to alih now, after traveling this far without resting, I can no longer breathe enough to live.
I’m over; this is the end of the Pack of Ice! I lay winded and defeated, awaiting death’s arrival patiently.
~Let anda Go~
1: On and on ~ the days go by
Without a sight of anda atau my sanity
I'm Lost not found ~ I wanted to tunjuk anda , I wanted to tell you...
Chorus: If I say I'm sorry will anda believe me?
If I Cinta anda again will anda never leave me?
I made a mistake when I berkata no
I never should have let anda go...
2: I ring your phone but no one answers, I'm alone
Days are spent Membaca your old letters, but with a groan,
I'd put them away, In the draw they'd lay until tomorrow...
Tomorrow...
Chorus-
3: This moping, not coping is killing me
My soul is not at rest when I long for it to be
I wish you'd come back atau my fears may come true
When I left you, I still loved anda and I think anda knew
Chorus-
Darlin' don't forget me
I'm locked and you're the only key...
1: On and on ~ the days go by
Without a sight of anda atau my sanity
I'm Lost not found ~ I wanted to tunjuk anda , I wanted to tell you...
Chorus: If I say I'm sorry will anda believe me?
If I Cinta anda again will anda never leave me?
I made a mistake when I berkata no
I never should have let anda go...
2: I ring your phone but no one answers, I'm alone
Days are spent Membaca your old letters, but with a groan,
I'd put them away, In the draw they'd lay until tomorrow...
Tomorrow...
Chorus-
3: This moping, not coping is killing me
My soul is not at rest when I long for it to be
I wish you'd come back atau my fears may come true
When I left you, I still loved anda and I think anda knew
Chorus-
Darlin' don't forget me
I'm locked and you're the only key...
Another poem sejak me. This one came out kinda lame,but I'll let the rating be the judge (assuming there will be any).
That Girl
Have anda seen that girl,
That goes around here and there?
Nobody knows where she’s going,
Is she even going somewhere?
Pretty face, pretty hair,
Nobody knows her name,
She seems sad, what a coincidence,
I’ve been feeling the same.
She seems lost,
Doesn’t even know where she’s from,
I’m a nice guy so I invite her,
To stay in my home.
She seats in the couch,
My, is she pretty?
I wonder what I can say,
To comfort that girl , so dreamy.
Sarah,
She tells me it’s her name,
She feels sad,
Funny,
Because I’ve been feeling the same
That Girl
Have anda seen that girl,
That goes around here and there?
Nobody knows where she’s going,
Is she even going somewhere?
Pretty face, pretty hair,
Nobody knows her name,
She seems sad, what a coincidence,
I’ve been feeling the same.
She seems lost,
Doesn’t even know where she’s from,
I’m a nice guy so I invite her,
To stay in my home.
She seats in the couch,
My, is she pretty?
I wonder what I can say,
To comfort that girl , so dreamy.
Sarah,
She tells me it’s her name,
She feels sad,
Funny,
Because I’ve been feeling the same