I came up with this during an especially bad hormone swing...

Last Words

A hunter's aim is towards a swan.

It utters two notes, one sad, one long.

Its neck is dipped, eyes with ready tears equipped.

The hunter suddenly doesn't feel so strong as the swan sings its last, mourning song.

*Sniffles* Um, can this be a thread for any type of poems or short stories? I am suddenly very depressed, and I feel like this thread won't survive if its sole purpose is to make people meloncholy  :( 

Good concept though, so top for now. •_•. 

Look away, look away...

This thread will wreck your evening, you whole life and your day.

Every single post found here is nothing but dismay, so look away...

The world

Crashed

Around me

My bones

Shattered

As well as

My soul.

Damage

Destruction

Racking

My brain,

Taking

The world.

My family

Gone.

My friends

Gone.

My home

Gone.

Gone 

Was everything,

And

Gone

Was 

Me.

This is a good thread! TOP! 

Burning my heart,

All I hold dear,

No reason for a new start,

There are many tears.

It's all gone,

Never to return,

A mourning song,

What's ahead I can't discern.

I am all alone,

There is no one.

I fear my heart is stone,

I fear my good life is done.

Where will I go?

I'm terribly afraid

I do not know.

If life is a braid,

Mine has become undone.

But I'll make the best of it,

And turn my back on the sun.

I'll go where my road takes me,

Follow the least worn paths.

Life is what life will be,

And I'll deal with what it has. 

Oh also you should read the book series if you want to understand this completely. My poems are parodies of "Nicholas was.."

Dorian Was…

Sadder than sin, and his pain could grow no more. He wanted to die.

Dorian Havilliard of Adarlanian did not speak of this wish, instead he was enveloped in his own, twisting agony, healers conducted incomprehensible spells, when they thought they could help him.

It only it forced him, screaming in pain, into Endless Night. During the healing he would stand with the very thing that caused him pain, not from this world, leave a piece of his soul,  invisible to anyone else. He wanted to sleep forever, frozen into time.

He envied Rowan and Aelin, Aedion and Lysandra. His life was harsher.

King

Of

Nothing

~~~

MORE SAAD 

She loved.

He died.

Well, that's morbid.

*submit* 

Hmm... I'll find time to write this later, I'm on an emotional low right now.

*chuckles darkly* Ah, my summer children. Don't you know? You have to make us love something, then rip it cruelly away. It does far more damage than removing something we never knew. This is why "She loved. He died" is more effective than "My family was killed and my home was destroyed". I will demonstrate.

I came from darkness and into light.

I lived first under a fuming volcano with a mother who had no kind word or moment of time for me, a father who could but would not leave, siblings who it was better to be ignored by. I accepted blows as love and curses as praise, ate what no one else would call food, and bit my own hurts away when the sky dropped things that burned.

I lived second over a sparkling lake in a house with shining floors and wide open space. My mother spoke soft and sweetly, and my father caught me up to the green-framed sky. I had no siblings at all but made friends who grew close enough to count, was taught to make up for mistakes and see in many ways. I ate heaven on a plate and healed quicker than I harmed. 

I grew into wings and found a song of my own. I was the peak of perfection, the night's star of hope. I had come up and built myself a place to live third. My story was told to all I'd come to know. I rested high on the top of a mountain that I had moved as I wished, and I saw my place spread out before me... and I saw the edge of the dark. 

I came into darkness and I brought light.

But I was small and the dark was hungry. It ate up my light and let me vanish into its depths, not knowing where to go. I was cut by lashes from fast, lean shadows and hit by things I could not see. My healing was a trickle in a torrent of hurt, my skin, grown soft, offered no protection save where scarred. I spun in torment, saw faces and heard names that tickled the grasp of my memory and I wondered if this was the family I had left. Did they see the child of darkness in me, or was I the child of light? 

I stumbled onwards and broke my feet, cried myself weary and felt not a drip. A will-o'-the-wisp beckoned my way, and I forgot it was not what I had lost. I fell into fire and choked on the ash, saw myself struggle and win. I shattered the stones that barred my way, splintered bones into ladders and climbed. I found what I'd given in clouds above time and took it back, again mine.

And I looked as I held the light in my hands, and I watched as it wavered and died.

It's a little more anger and pain than I intended, but it'll do. If I let myself rappell into depression I could probably do better. Feeling bleak and bitter even in the face of spring, and all that. But I won't. I'm way too fond of the light.