Blood flows from our wrists,
Making our hands turn into fists.
We only feel the pain and sorrow,
Have we given up hope for a better tomorrow?
The rope is hanging from the ceiling,
Helping us end that miserable feeling.
The pills are scattered across the floor,
Maybe we need to swallow just one more?
Others might refuse to see the cruelty of life,
While others try to end it by the knife.
Trying to get out of this cruel dream,
Sometimes all we can do is scream.
There are others like you out there,
You might not yet know where.
But they try to overcome it,
That's something not all will admit.
Every one of us needs a helping hand,
THIS THING CALLED LOVE - STORY 1
Vancouver, May 24th 2004
Matthew Hayden stared out the window at the downpour for a while, before a familiar voice hailed him. Of course, Frank would be here… he was here last year too. Quentin and he were on good terms at work. He turned around to greet his supervisor and his gaze suddenly fell on what he could only describe as a beauty. He vaguely remembered shaking hands with Frank; the rest of the conversation was a blur… The young woman had a warm smile, long thin legs and a delicate looking body; her sparkling green eyes reminded him of jade gemstones. His Chinese college, Han, had recently given him a
catherine final chapter by The-shadow-demon, literature
Literature
catherine final chapter
Catherine
Chapter four: Results
By the shadow demon
(Woman-Anthro domestic cat)
Midday, and Catherine sat on her bed; her face sank in her hands as her newfound breasts grew in. Her second set grew in a perfect size C while her lowest grew in to a size B.
Her tail grew longer to a nearly a foot long. Light brown hair grew over her belly and began on her breasts, to add brown hair also joined making the light brown hair as her belly colour of a cat.
Catherine removed her face from her hands, her whiskers bounce of her face as she turns to her full-length mirror to comfort her reflection.
Her face had form a slight feline muzzle; her ea
I remember little else then that moment, frozen in time like the Encino Man. The movie had been called "Anywhere But Here," and the ticket stub sat safely in my pocket as we entered through my kitchen door.
"This is it," I said calmly, sighing. Boxes lined my walls like a fortress, boxes filled with twelve critical years of my life. It was time to say good-bye.
I don't recall what she said next. Only that the voice she spoke with trembled and that her eyes brimmed with tears. This would be the second time she'd cry because of me. The first was when I arrived home from camp that fateful day, ran up to my room, and dialed her numb