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Literature Text
I have a little red angel
Resting on my sleeve
And all day and night
It whispers dirty deeds.
I try to ignore it
But each day it grows stronger
And I don't think I'll be able
To ignore it for much longer.
It wants me to do things
So horrid and insane
And the very thought of listening
Seems to me so inane.
But the longer I hear it,
The more it starts to make sense.
It's like I almost believe
When it says others are so dense,
When it says other are corrupted
And don't deserve this life,
This gift that they've been given
When they cause so much strife.
And so the little red angel
Says I should amend the shame,
That I should demolish this problem
And they'll all soon learn my name.
After weeks of prying,
I see the little red angel is right.
Why should anyone tolerate
Those who seek a fight?
So with the help of the little red angel
And my sharpened little knife,
I go around the country,
And someday we'll take your life.
Resting on my sleeve
And all day and night
It whispers dirty deeds.
I try to ignore it
But each day it grows stronger
And I don't think I'll be able
To ignore it for much longer.
It wants me to do things
So horrid and insane
And the very thought of listening
Seems to me so inane.
But the longer I hear it,
The more it starts to make sense.
It's like I almost believe
When it says others are so dense,
When it says other are corrupted
And don't deserve this life,
This gift that they've been given
When they cause so much strife.
And so the little red angel
Says I should amend the shame,
That I should demolish this problem
And they'll all soon learn my name.
After weeks of prying,
I see the little red angel is right.
Why should anyone tolerate
Those who seek a fight?
So with the help of the little red angel
And my sharpened little knife,
I go around the country,
And someday we'll take your life.
Literature
If I Met Markiplier
We meet at last
You are YOU
I am no one
to be remembered
Merely one of
countless thousands
to have had the honor
To you it is nothing really
all in a days work
To me it is everything
A dream come true
A warm smile, a handshake
It is done
Your parade moves on
The pedestal gleaming
All in a days work as you
smile tiredly at the next fan
Heaven can not compare
Thinks I
The daydream over
I move to the mundane
It was Heaven while it lasted
Literature
Letter to Markiplier
Dear Mark,
Well I guess a friendly letter should always start out with telling you who I am…Hello I’m Morgan. I’m a ‘fangirl’ just like all the rest I suppose…but hey I’m not afraid to admit that. I’m a ‘Fangirl’ of you for many good reasons. Though I don’t like to bring up the things that make us sad I do wish to say that our lives run on a few very prominent parallels. One of the parallels I speak of is one I hate the most…I know the feeling of helplessness when those who are closest to you are on the verge of death and there is nothing you can do. I was
Literature
dear self,
don't
even
try
it.
i'll get all
poetic
with you, since you
despise to listen;
stop chasing boys who
don't even like you;
they don't like
girls, not at this age;
stop thinking you
know how the world works,
you aren't a
c
i r
c l
e
of genius in radical
magnitudes; you're (fucking)
crazy, i'll give you that,
and you know how to get what
you want, but it doesn't make
you queen of saigon
(you'll have to wait a few years
until then)
you will learn the
definition of love when you're
introduced to danger and
black leather boys with caramel
skin and slick hair and everything
you thought was "idiotic" when you
were four;
y
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This could be either a voice in your head or some sort of demon. You decide.
© 2015 - 2024 DespicableMe1
Comments11
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I think it's a bit of both. But I don't think of it as angel, a voice or a demon, more like a darker part of my psyche. We all have it. Some people's dark corners are just more exposed than others.