Cinnamon Bunnies by scriptureofthescribe, literature
Literature
Cinnamon Bunnies
It’s a lovely day,
There’s snow outside
Like every day,
But hey, it’ll be okay.
We’ve got all the books you need at our library,
Without a budget to fix the sign.
We’ve beds at the inn, right next door,
You’ll feel so much better if you take a minute to recline.
We’ve got food at the diner, which couldn’t have it finer,
Sure, it is a bit cramped and cold,
But we don’t think about that, for it weakens the soul.
If it’s entertainment you want,
Look no further than there,
Where the skeleton brothers live.
What an interesting pair.
That’s all we have in Snowdin,
Aside from each
When it takes over, I go down too easily.
Panic consumes every cell, every nerve in my body.
The grief bunches up in my chest,
Stifling my ability to breath.
The burning behind my eyes leaks out in the form of bitter teardrops.
My shoulders get so tense that I can’t sit straight.
I sit on the ground, just barely rocking back and forth,
Enough to feel, enough to numb the pain inside.
I can’t talk, not without descending back into that pit of despair,
Not until I’ve gotten past this insurmountable grief that came from… somewhere.
Somewhere I never hope to go, somewhere I never hope to hear about,
Somewhere I never hop
Chara's Testimony by scriptureofthescribe, literature
Literature
Chara's Testimony
Maybe I could stop, but why should I?
Maybe I should shop, but why would I?
Maybe I should, maybe I could…
Maybe I enjoy your pain.
Maybe I’ve wanted to “have a bad time” since the first day I spent here.
Maybe your anguish, your agony, and your anger have been my goals the entire time I’ve been here.
Or maybe not.
Have you considered how pathetic you are?
Stop clinging to your hopeless dreams!
Dying’s easier than it seems.
I assure you, even as you try to prolong the inevitable end,
You can’t dodge forever, my not-quite friend.
At the end of the day,
You’ll be gone, just like the others.
I
THE SEVENTEENTH ENTRY by scriptureofthescribe, literature
Literature
THE SEVENTEENTH ENTRY
DARK, DARKER, YET DARKER.
THE WORLD CARRIES ON, UNAWARE.
DON’T TALK ABOUT ME LIKE THAT; I’M RIGHT OVER HERE.
THIS IS A BURDEN, AND IT’S MINE TO BEAR.
ALONE. I’M ALL ALONE, I FEAR.
BUT STILL I SPEAK IN HANDS.
I HIDE, I SMILE, I WATCH, I WAIT,
I TRY TO CATCH A RAY OF LIGHT.
DARK, DARKER, YET DARKER.
Again? Not again. Not this again.
We’re moving. Moving to a new home.
It’s too soon to start over, but what can I do?
Mom and Dad are talking to an old lady whose house is for sale.
"Mommy, don’t buy it!” I tug on her arm.
“Honey, nothing’s decided quite yet.”
I can’t make out what the old lady looks like.
Is she nice or mean? Tall and thin or short and stout?
Her voice is there, but I can’t remember it at all.
The house is big. That’s all I can recall. Big, with a backyard.
There’s a little playground here in the backyard.
My sisters have started playing without me.
I climb
Another day goes by with no accomplishments.
Another night when you cry yourself to sleep.
Another week lacking love and compassion,
Another month where there’s nothing to keep.
Another season passes without a huge deal.
Another year, you decide not to fake it.
Another decade, and you don’t give a crap.
Another moment, but you’re not here to take it.
I thought myself a hero.
I hoped to save the world.
But in the end, I’ll still descend
Because I was so mad.
I only wanted justice.
I tried to bring out peace.
But never mind, I was so blind
To all the friends I had.
I couldn’t stop my anger
From overtaking me.
But anyway, I have to say
Straitjackets aren’t so bad.
Shut the drapes of your mind.
Begin to explore the world of your head.
Let your thoughts unwind
As you lie in your bed.
Close the door of your day
To unlock the night.
Let your troubles go away
As your dreams take flight.
When you start counting sheep,
And your sleep-self becomes awake,
Let your mind take a leap
Into a world that you can make.
If you could see tomorrow,
Would you use your future sight?
If you always knew who’s lying,
Would your facts always be right?
If there’s a line between good and bad,
Where does that barrier lie?
If you had a love, but lost it,
Would you be too numb to cry?
If you never were dishonest,
Would you be thought of as good or bad?
If you’ve never felt depression,
Have you really ever felt glad?
If you truly knew yourself,
Would you want to be your friend?
If I asked a bunch of questions,
Would it be poetic in the end?