Angiemima
@Angiemima
16 Years500+ Posts
Comments: 5 · Posts: 592 · Topics: 88
The Uncolored Project
I just notice it censored the poem. lol
my mom writes too but only in spanish
no she doesn't write professionally
yeah i can write only its a bit difficult since some word are written the same but mean different thing
only way to tell them a part is the acento that goes on some letters.
the little stick thing that goes on top of letters
yeah i can write only its a bit difficult since some word are written the same but mean different thing
only way to tell them a part is the acento that goes on some letters.
the little stick thing that goes on top of letters
can't find it
*sigh* guess im stuck with the censoring
*sigh* guess im stuck with the censoring
Yays! i got it, thanks.
I'm not quiet sure. When i read poems I usually come out with small stories.
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when you leave the beginning
you start the end.
the safest place is so near but yet so far away
sometimes you think before you speak
but other times
you sit and let your carelessness tweak the emotional
insecurities that lay beyond your eyes.
the imperfect world we live in might
be our own personal hell
but in the end we'll still call it home.
the love we feel is a lie
nothing is the way you see in the colorless screen
filling your head with false hopes and lies
lies lies lies!
nothing but horrid fucking lies!
the perfect being...its just a joke
or more like a hope...
the smile in the face of a child is said to be worth a life time
of happiness yet
the sadness of a child face strikes the bitter and cold
as a ray of light. an accomplishment
done by the bad an suffered by the good.
i am not to say there is a God.
but my beliefs are clear and my goal is
here. God is real but he's not to fear.
He keeps my eyes open; my soul alive.
please don't take my happiness away from me.
all i want is my ray of sunshine, my hope
God is my light he is my sunshine
he is my smile.
the ending for me is blurry
even if i stand in the clear.
my love isn't pure ,my heart is corrupt,
my eyes are soaked, my lies are no more.
this is the real me.
the Rei you never came to see.
this is me...the uncolored project.
waiting to be finished by my father...God....
he started my existence and he will finish my art.
Written by my younger brother, Rey. Here he spells it Rei. He is the poem writer and i the story writer, but poems are also stories. That's why we work together most of the time when coming up with ideas.