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Literature Text
Why does a moth fly
Directly into the flame?
Perhaps its captivated
By the beauty to be found
In such pure recreation
Or perhaps
It flies so surely
Into its own death
Because it believes
The flames of rebirth
Will allow it a second chance
At metamorphosis,
And perhaps that this time...
It will appear a butterfly.
Perhaps this is the only thing
It can force itself to believe
While it burns.
Directly into the flame?
Perhaps its captivated
By the beauty to be found
In such pure recreation
Or perhaps
It flies so surely
Into its own death
Because it believes
The flames of rebirth
Will allow it a second chance
At metamorphosis,
And perhaps that this time...
It will appear a butterfly.
Perhaps this is the only thing
It can force itself to believe
While it burns.
Literature
You Will Not Read This
When a writer puts his soul and passion into his work.
It will go unnoticed, often because of its length.
It is a rather sad fact, but a truth nonetheless.
For the simple emotions conveyed in just a few words,
Often hold more sway with those who are emotionally swayed.
There is no depth of the heart, nor a single thought spared.
For the effort placed into a piece that forgoes the winning edge,
For a hint of true meaning.
You will not read this piece and I will not expect you to.
It will not be popular or famous, nor will it see the light of day.
For length is the bane of true poetry,
And that is why so many of my kin have already l
Literature
Let the Fall Make You Stronger.
"Hey! Are you all right?"
"Sure, why wouldn't I be?"
"Um...because you just fell from the roof of the hou-"
"See, that's where you're wrong. I didn't fall. The floor challenged me and I accepted."
"And how did that go for you?"
"The floor won. But only because it had the advantage."
"Of being non sentient and vast in size, along with the fact that there is a freaking storm out!!"
"Nope. I just attacked from the wrong position."
"Backwards?"
"I overestimated my skills."
"I'll say. You're bleeding!"
"Only a little. Ask me again."
"What?"
"If I'm fine."
"Are you?"
"Nope."
"Is it because you're bleeding?"
"You're supposed to ask
Literature
I'll Tell My Secrets To The Moon
So long as you furnish me with a window
And a steel frame bed in a corner of a room
I’ll endeavour to keep the pane transparent
To give my eyes a crystal clear view of the moon
Regardless of what phase you are going through
Whether it be half, crescent, full, blue or new
You have never once shown me your dark side
But so many times I have shown mine to you
But tranquillity can be seen on a clear night
Tides roll through my veins as thoughts flood to my pen
Of all the ancestors that have gone before me
Who've had the same moon looking down over them
So long as you furnish me with a window
And a steel frame bed in a corner of a room
Yo
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I thought of this three months ago and i just now finished the thought. Talk about perseverance. Ok so everyone plzzz favorrite this T.T i haven't been on the cover in two months. I know its selfish to ask but the continual failures are killing my confidence. and if u dont favorite at least comment so i know what im doing wrong.
Hope everyone enjoys 
© 2014 - 2024 CrumbledWings
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Also, to the previous comments mentioning the punctuation, I don't feel that you need it at all. The sentences themselves punctuate the thoughts by the fact that you separate them. I too, write thus way and people often critique my style, but I feel that it gives the poem a uniqueness that cannot be replicated. Keep writing in your own style and don't let anyone change you! If you ever publish a collection, I would love to purchase it!