Writing Prompt

The burden of memory"—sounds dreadfully dramatic, doesn't it?

Like I'm supposed to sit here weeping over things I can't quit.

But honestly, the real burden is just all the unnecessary junk

That my brain, this digital vault, refuses to have ever sunk.

I don't struggle with managing time, I struggle with managing thoughts,

Every brilliant idea, every minor slight, every "I should not."

My aspiration...

We all look the same in the dark,

We are just as bad inside our hearts,

Maybe we can be good,

Maybe we should if we could,

Maybe we should be still,

Take a breath and climb the hill,

But when it gets dark,

The sun sets,

I feel it in my soul,

We must rest,

It’s strenuous,

But we’re all the same,

It’s quit a mess,

When it gets dark,

It gets hard,

Let’s be apart,

Unless it’s rott that heats away m...

It’s all a lie. History books are written by the victors, those who lost are left to rot. Betrayals are the worst, typically the victor is never the betrayed. This is the true story of how Caesar was killed. Granted the best lies hold bits of the truth, you see the books tell of Brutus stoicism and how his actions were motivated by his wish to presurve Rome. While this is correct to some extent, i...

Don is absolutely testing every one of Nova’s limits.

And he knows it, which makes it even more infuriating. The nice guy act isn’t working on her.

Of course the king and queen have him doing the training for today. It’s supposed to be Nova teaching a lesson, showing the guards that witches can be trusted.

She was making progress, but she isn’t so sure now.

This royal advisor has more credi...

skin is still skin like hidden veins when the light switch is down

while bones are free to roam as the sun forgets their name

an eclipse of the soul when the candles snuff out

nothing left but shame

since we all look the same in the dark...

We all look the same in the dark, same vague features, dark eyes, and messy dark hair. Are hands are all stained with a past that led us here—though our paths very, they all lead to the same destination.

Deep, deep, down, in the clutches of Earth itself—or in the hands of something else entirely; something darker, like the sharp claws of a monster. We all ended up here. In this dark cavern, fill...

Perhaps I wait in the dark while you roam,

You talk and act and sing and lie

While I, well I… I can’t help but stay still

And sit quietly and to the side and sigh

There are differences between us, it should be clear to see

But why judge me when I was once you?

When I was the outgoing friend, who would do everything you now do

And you were me, the silent word who everyone would simply let be

It’...

(i thought of some lyrics and decided “nope, that has to be written down RIGHT NOW.” so uh please DO NOT USE THESE LYRICS FOR A SONG I WILL SMASH YOUR HEAD AGAINST WHATEVER YOU USE TO WRITE STUFF okay joking but please

i wanna make this into a song someday)

—

spoken: “hey, hey! why would you EVER think it was me? i was NOWHERE near her!”

*guitar, bass, and piano come in, about 20 secs of instru...

“We

all look

the same in

the night!” She breathes,

voice trembling in low light.

Gloom creeps, curls round us both

Silhouettes swim, swing and sway so close

While a zephyr playfully t i n k l es some wind chimes.

Inching forward, hands outstretched, her fingers lightly brush mine.

*

“We

Might all

Look the same

In the night, however…”

Her jasmine scent draws me

Unerringl...