“I’m standing in the flames
It’s a beautiful kind of pain
Setting fire to yesterday”
This quote is from the lyrics of Beautiful Pain by Eminem.
Through all my mental anguish there are few things that keep me from falling over the edge. Things like my music and my work, but the things that makes me feel satisfied are beautiful words. Those unique words I find on Pinterest and Tumblr are what makes me happy. I love to collected them and enhance my writing. To most others it must seem strange to love peculiar words, but I don’t care. Learning words that are spelt in such a pleasing way and pronounced to sound like a lullaby are the beautiful words that I love. I have an entire list of them. Right now that list is at 423 and will continue to grow. It’s not all English words either; There are foreign words that have no meaning in English, Japanese ones are my favorite. The way Japanese words are spelt in English is so pleasing. I always double check their meanings too. I’m a very precise person who doesn’t like error in writing. I’ve found quite a few words that have different dictionary definitions then the posts I find. As odd as it seems beautiful words distracted me from the torment of real life.
That’s all I have for my little rant on beautiful words. I just felt like writing about something, besides poetry. I might posts more rants like this in the future. We’ll see how I feel about it.
Also thank you to my three followers. I’m very greatful that you all like my writing enough to follow me.
Some days they’re strong and others they’re not,
They can’t control their own plot.
Those ocean waves are but a marionette,
To what ever disturbes them yet.
The poor ocean being used and abused,
While not being able to punish the accused.
Her waves are never orderly anymore,
Always high or always low like a war.
Her want to be free from control,
Is overpowered by her inability to in a whole.
So she takes it all in,
The hurt and the happiness with a grin.
Forgetting the one who caused it all,
The moon which is too far to hear her bawl.
Alone she kneels on the ice,
As liquid falls in groups of trice.
The piercing wind consumes her in it’s cold,
But it’s not the reason her emotions are so bold.
Echoes of a sound come from the icy hilltop,
Drip, drip, drop.
Clear and crimson circles in the snow appear,
The perfect blend of vivid and austere.
Her tears aren’t for the pain,
They are for the love she never gained.
She does this for the suffering to stop,
Drip, drip, slop.
A silvery blade in her hand,
Causes the blood to paint the snow that’s so bland.
Everyone tried to help her,
Except the one who could make her as she were.
Now her blood and emotions are in a glop,
Drip, drip, sob.
Her skin turns to the color of the snow,
And her sobbing begins to slow.
Her gray-blue eyes are hidden by her eyelids,
And her breathing is dull like her life is.
Her smile signifies her last yopp,
Drip, drip, plop.
In my brumal world I have everything,
Except for the things that make me zing.
Those things one can’t touch nor see,
Mean everything to me.
I had them once before,
But now they are all like lore.
I hunger for them to be mine again,
So I can remember my zen.
They give me materials to fill the void,
But I want what they’ve destroyed.
Those things that make one feel alive,
The ones that would make me strive.
I hunger for those feelings,
I hunger for the emotions they bring.
Emotions like hope and happiness,
That kept away despair and vileness.
I’d ruin every material I have with a bat,
To once again feel an emotion like that.