Writers And Poets Are Superheroes

writers and poets are superheroes

our weapons  are our pens and pencils and keyboards people get hit by our words, some cry some laugh  some hate some love (via justscribbledwords)

I love this.

(via hanzelwrites)

The difference between your church and mine

Take me to church, where you hide yourself under the name anonymous and speak words spilled with hatred.

Take me to church, when you try to tear down and destroy beautiful art with your envious words; the type of art that breathes life and hope in another's empty chest.

Take me to church, where your face is covered by a pixel screen and not even then you are brave enough to leave your name after your attempt to create havoc.

Take me to church, whenever you shout your poisonous allegations at someone who shares their passion with the world.

So let me rephrase that, take me to your church, where the religion is hate and maliciousness is encouraged by the preacher, where you strive to degrade another's creation as if you could even comprehend what it spoke about. But we must not forget that parakeets can't understand the meaning of words no matter how much they repeat them, even if the words they repeat are loathsome

&&&

dedicated to @denmysterywoman and @writerscreed due to recent allegations regarding genuine creations of art. Please continue amazing the world with your originality

Don’t break a writer. She’ll bleed through the ink in her pen, the words in her mind, the tears on her pillow, The bitterness of her coffee, The blankness with which She looks at the horizon. She’ll make you her Masterpiece, when All you deserve is the endless Torment you gave her.

That’s how she copes//day 10 (via vardhanaaaa)

You forgot. – Lukas W.

The ocean is incomplete without it’s waves and so am I without my sadness.

03.05.2016//23.13 (via grosstadtmaedchen)

drifting

i want to tell you. i want to scream at you, shake your shoulders and explain why i am like this. i want you to understand why i feel this way but then i look up to your eyes and suddenly a rope is tied around my throat and i can’t speak. my hand begins to shake so i hide them behind my back and i drop my eyes to the ground because if i continue looking at you i might cry and i don’t want to break in front of you. i really don’t. i want to be as strong as you are, but my bones are made out of paper that are easily crumpled while yours are never bending iron. my heart races and i know you’re about to tell me something to encourage me, but i can’t hear it. i can’t tell you because it’s all in my head and i’m terrified of letting you in and finally seeing me through my eyes. i still want to be the happy girl you think i am because i don’t want to be a burden. so i swallow my breath and smile. because even though im not fine i still have you and somehow that makes it worth it. because in a world where my mind is slowly crumbling and where my thoughts are the only things keeping me up at night i wouldn’t know how to handle if you put any space between us. just the same way a boat would float away purposelessly if the rope tying it to the deck cuts lose. the boat would just drift away and i don’t want us to stop