

Cinderella Story...Faye never knew what beauty she possessed. Shining curls swept across the bodice Of a dress that seemed to be illuminated as she moved. She was a forgotten painting of Athena coming to life for the first time. Walking to the mirror, she saw the perfect complexion, Enhancements of an artist craven to bring her soul to skin. Marc was stunned, stammering at the elegance before him.Cinderella Story...
Faye remembered the last time she saw this face in the mirror. Limp locks hung at the shoulders Of a threadbare tunic stained with crimson. She was the forgotten in the attic by night, And the ab


Past--Numbness is LivingBeing here is killing me; The shouts, the screams--they deafen me. Any sound from them breaks me inside. Silence is my only escape, yet I never attain, forPast--Numbness is Living
The voices from every direction challenge my sanity.
Every word echos back from then.
Being here is killing me;
The accusations, the threats--they stifle me.
Begging for reason and mercy is futile.
And I am left with an Unknown Friend, still I do not know, as The words are stolen from me, like all else.
Every unspoken muttering falls off my lips from then.
Being here is killing me; The lashi


And She WaitedShe gazed out her window this morning A minute, an hour, a day, maybe longer The sun rose and set in the blink of an eye A clear sky filled to pour the rain So she looked for him in the hazeAnd She Waited
His smell no longer lingered in the clothes That she wore the last day she saw him Two days, two weeks, or two months, it's still too much The grip of their embrace was slipping fast Wistful dialogues were slowly fading away
Frustration, temptation, desolation, where was he? How could she sit here and wait without a word? Was he truly the one she has been waiting for? &n
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Music is the wine that fills the cup of silence.
- [Marilyn vos Savant]
This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a whisper.
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"By the time I realized it, I had already swung the bat. My palms still sting."
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Ask me how I smell!
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Art washes from the soul the dust of everyday life. --Pablo Picasso
Artists who seek perfection in everything are those who cannot attain it in anything. --Eugène Delacroix
Every artist writes his own autobiography. --Havelock Ellis
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Ask me how I smell!
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