The Art of TrustThe minute you start,asking questions,is when you lose most connections.For faith yields the finest fruit,while believing and trust share the roots.
Black BlazesThoughts thrive in my mind,while going through phases,that occur in new places,giving birth to black blazes.
Drifting ScentsShapes,Colors,being good things;are like the scents that tulips,always bring.
Friends and FateWith a friend,nothing can ever be coincidental,again.
Sensual SadnessSalty and sweet,there is something called grief.
Wedding WorriesMaroon tinted tears,bring forth flowers,and fears.We often wed,our own worries.
Love and PurposeLove burns,like a shooting star,bringing purpose and value,to our lives.
Hoping for RainbowsHer heart shatters,at the thought of the rain never ending;of her never seeing a rainbow,streak the sky with its colors.
Fear No EvilDarkness evolves,where hope dissolves.Faith being,the things unseen,can be hard to conceive.But if you picture the sky,as it slowly moves by,you'll stop asking why.
What Certain People of Tumblr Don't UnderstandThere is literally nothing wrong with being cis,your very existence does not make you transphobic.You are not an oppressor by default,do not blame yourself for someone else’s transphobia,because it’s not your fault. Racism isn’t restricted to just whites.Anyone can be a racist,you need only express a prejudice.Sexism is practically the same,no matter the gender,it goes both ways.Mental illness is not some fad,it’s not something to be tossed around so freely,like some badge.It’s not something you can self-diagnose you have,therefore using it as an excuse to act like an ass.There is a stigma created when you act out, you see.And the world associates mental illnesswith your disgusting tendencies.It is horrific and cruel to use mental illness as an excuse,especially when the illness you claim to have is notaffecting you.Feminism is not for every boy, man, woman or girl.It is not a cure that will heal inequality in our world.Pushin
I'm Sorry For Being a RapistI'm sorry for being a rapist,though I never even touched you.I'm sorry for assaulting you,though all I did was gently brush you.We were in a crowded subway,what more could you expect?Someone bumped up against me,and my raised hand went to your chest.I'm sorry for being abusive,even though I'm just three.I'm sorry for crying in front of you,because I’m supposed to be strong.I'm sorry for being gay,because society doesn't like it that way.I'm sorry for being your boss,even though I worked extremely hard.As opposed to you, I came from nothing,and had to earn my family's butter and bread.We escaped a communist country,from a government who wanted us dead.But you wouldn't know that,because to you we're all the same.I'm sorry for calling you a bitch,after you carelessly called me a bastard.Or calling you a slut,when you cheated on my friend, and his life ended in self inflicted disaster.I'm sorry for earning more than you,but you know you can go to court.And
Control"Please stop, you're scaring me"They cried with tears shed.I'm well acquainted with the voicesThat live in my head.They make me so angry.I'm as cold as ice.They dare me to do things.They're my greatest vice.But they aren't my issue.The issue here is me.The demons don't do this.The demons aren't free."Please don't do this"With voices so old.This is my body.I'm the one in control.
Being Cis Isn't EasyBeing Cis is EasySo I suppose that when I was kicked out last night,for being gay,that my pain meant nothing,because let’s face it, i'm cis, anyway.I think that the marks on my wrist are just ketchup stains,because i'm cis, so I can't bleed,Did you know, I'm invincible to pain?Racism isn't a thing if you're a cisgendered male,be you black, white or whatever,you can't experience racism, so why even tell?Misandry nor misogyny exist of your cis,so girls and boys, let's stop this confusion,let's just do away with this.Depression, huh! Do you mean a cry for attention?Because if you're cis and experiencing this,don't bother mentioning it.And you can't be bullied, you cis scum!So stop telling us that you are,because we know you're just making it up.A broken family, bitch please!Everyone knows thatcisgendered brats have everything. Call me stingy, but I ask one thing,I beg of you to keep thelabel “cis” away from me.Because you love to put us al
He Wore My Makeup AgainAt least it wasn't a dress this time,but I know that my boyfriendhas something to hide.When I'm not looking, he takes my purse,uses my make up to cover the hurts.Dabs his fingers into my foundation,taps it on his face, with handsas skilled as a physician.The brush he rubs down the angles of his cheek.He should be thankful that he'sthe same complexion as me.I've never seen him with a bare face,whenever he's with me,the make up will stay.At least he hasn't used my lipstickyet, I don't know how I wouldfeel about him adorned in red.And my eye shadow, he seems to leave alone,it seems he uses my make up,just for an even tone.Perhaps he'll progress to using the rest,and then I suppose then, he'll startwearing a dress.I guess it's slow, this painful transition.I just want him to say it,he's already got my attention.I get it he's a cross dresser, he has to be right?Isn't that what men who want tobe women describe themselves like?I think I'll confront him about his f
nervously with you.did you know i was scaredto touch youbecause i've only held booksand paper planesall my life;i did not think my handswere strong enough to holdall the galaxiesinside your soul.
Autism Is Not A DiseaseSome say it's a virus,That spreads like the plague,Until there's nothing left,But for those with autism,Instead.But why,When we're normal human beings,Like you?Yes we are different,But isn't everyone else,Like for those who are bright,While other's are dumb?Sure our brains are wired,All over the place,Making it harder,For us to think.But it doesn't matter,When no one's the same.And Believe me,This world would be a bore,If we knew our every move,Knowing what everyone would do.So let's hear it:Am I a disease,Or a living human being?
numb.walk the edge of disasterlike you are one yourself;don’t pretend –bethe hurricane offeringrain to the earth and whenthe cruel wind ripsit away, laugh at theburn it leaves behindjust to feelsomething.(anything)
HetaliaxDepressed!Reader:Self-Inflicted AchromaticHetalia x Scary! Depressed! Reader: Self-Inflicted AchromaticI want to be a person just like you, don't you see?I want to be a person who is still being "me"A tired sigh escaped your lips. You were just so damn tired. The other countries said that you, (f/n) or (c/n), was scarier than Russia himself. But of course, you have lived 2500 years with wars and bloodshed always trailing after you. You just really want to be happy. But all those wars and blood imprinted on your mind, you really just released off a dark (a/c) aura and a stoic atmosphere.It really would be nice but I'm paying a price'Cause I'd really, not be me and that would not sufficeYou asked yourself, "I know my face doesn't show my pain. But isn't it obvious in my eyes? I'm lonely and hurt" You rubbed your numb (s/c) wrist, yesterday's cuts still had a colorless ache to it. You picked your silver knife, twirling it around watching the others argue. The said knife is the one you also use to cut yourself.A dream which
Our BlanketUnder our blanket of security,fingers and toes can curiously,mingle without a care.