Lizzie Rose.

𝙽𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚢 "𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛" 𝚒𝚏 "𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛" 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎; 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝙸𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 - 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚢. ♥︎

https://youtu.be/prnaognm8ki

139

Writings

Followers

Following

Lizzie Rose.

https://youtu.be/prnaognm8ki

139

Writings

Followers

Following

Hopelessly Delusional.

Lizzie Rose.

3 min read

Her very best friend had told her she was insane after their very brief conversation. Well, Wella had concluded something of her own—she didn’t understand.

She’d read the same book over multiple times, and every single page she turned, was like opening up a piece of her heart, the parts of it that had been closed off for so long. There was something so horribly magical about finding the one she’...

Horror

Your Fire Flame Dawn.

Lizzie Rose.

1 min read

Down in the depths,

Way under the surface

A flame was kept

As our own small burden;

And there it stayed

And there, hidden, it burned

‘Till it grew so

With ruby rage and churned.

Scorching inside

Painting all a charcoal

Where still it resides

—Some horrid miracle.

At surface waits

Will it sooner conquer?

Fire feasting ‘till

It’s seen nigher than yonder.

Come close it will,

Boldly consuming al...

Poetry

Horror

The Hope We Hide Behind Glass.

Lizzie Rose.

1 min read

Hope is like watching heavy clouds of rain form overhead, and praying they don’t rain down on you, soak your clothes through, and send shivers through your body. And if it does rain and storm, then hope is crossing your fingers that the sun will greet your eyes once more. Nothing is for certain, and that is hope. Hope is praying the glass doesn’t shatter—the thin casing around your heart that you ...

Numb To Corruption.

Lizzie Rose.

1 min read

Like a lioness, I prowl on the lonely

On the singled out and gouty

When everything seems normal

And the tall walls come down,

I step lightly on my feet to pounce.

Do you see that lurking, dark shadow of yours?

How it was before when you turn

Then reaching it’s ready hand out

The mome...

Poetry

Horror

The Choice To Breathe.

Lizzie Rose.

1 min read

Deep in the stormy clouds we carry, there is some amount of relief in silence. There is this unexplainable hunger for darkness. Not the kind that rains evil on our souls, but rather the darkness that gives us a much needed exhale from the breath we’ve been holding tightly in our chests for so long. The taughtness our lungs carry everywhere, strained and barely able to to sustain any more than what...

The Head, The Brain, And The Gut.

Lizzie Rose.

2 min read

“Here we go again,” the brain broke the days silence.

“And just when I was beginning to feel better…” The gut had had a horrible stomach ache only a few days prior and was praying the organs would remain as such just until he felt more like himself.

“Shh,” the heart interjected, “I think we should go for it!”

“Well of course you think that,” the brain said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” T...

Humour

Drama

The Sound Of Harmony.

Lizzie Rose.

2 min read

As she walked further into the deep wood, little by little a voice grew. It said nothing, but the melody it hummed drew her close. The girl hadn’t lost her mind. She’d simply let herself drift too far. Is that the same thing?

Every next foot infront of the other took her into a maze of glorious sound. The same voice overlapped softly in a beautiful harmony, and the closer she got to the very hea...

Fantasy

Some Hope.

Lizzie Rose.

1 min read

Some day you will meet someone who will kiss your scars instead of cause them....

Deep Within.

Lizzie Rose.

1 min read

Deep within our throats there is this raw cry we refuse to let out. We keep it there, all the way in our stomachs until it aches and churns with grief, until walking becomes a mindless action, and seeing is done through a blurred lense. Where shapes and colors once danced before our eyes, now lie an endless stream of gray and gloom.

There is no escape, or at least that is what despair tells us. ...

Home.

Lizzie Rose.

1 min read

“When the storm comes, my compass always points to home.” When the clouds gather and bunch together like ugly cotten swabs, and I feel more lost than ever, I try to recall that distant feeling. That place of belonging. I’ve never really felt like I belong anywhere, but everyone’s got to belong somewhere so I always told myself I wasn’t that far off. That I wasn’t exactly _lost, _but just waiting t...