Civilized Nature
**tanka no. 1 (spring)** myriad birds perching in radiant hues celestial -- whistling in the leaves the melancholic music of the old depressed flautist **tanka no. 2 (summer)** burrowing hornets emerge in heated morning -- the shedding of tears from
Black Sepia - chapter 6
The itching wasn't as bad, since he had no more feathers to shed, but the new pinfeathers still pushing up into place itched, and he felt vaguely irritated about small things rather out of proportion.
The Furry Rebellion | Chapter Twelve
They make you act like feral sheep that are shed so that we may sleep in comfortable blankets! " "and, of course, furred astorians!
Layton's backstory part 3
Layton separated from his mother and pulled the cart into an old shed near the forge. he began taking out all of the unsold merchandise and placing it onto racks which had been worn to fit many of the items perfectly.
prequel to GOJ/GNY chapter 11
Her daughter ran into the shed, "what's wrong!" she asked worried. "your little brother is coming today." winced alice as she felt another contraction hit her. "but dad is on a walk. he won't be back for an hour!" she said.
Dream
No tears are shed, i feel no pain. my dreams will be seen, when i sleep again. though there they will stay, to welcome me home. into my own world, where happiness roams. though when i pass, that is, when i die.
Poem: Home
I never expected to find home in a psych ward, home in a very very unknown place, home in ev'ry heartbeat, ev'ry shadow, home in ev'ry crying, sobbing face, home, for every tear that i will shed here, home, for each and every drop i would, home,
cold dark moon
I sit in a dark most say i don't need the cold bites at me with a bitter sweet sting rarely do i glimpse light and rarer still dose it chose to stay in my light the moon brings small comfort of times gone by and feelings once shared and now tears to shed
Cocoon of Shadows
Though after writing this and shedding a few tears, i felt a lot better. in the shadows, he sees his fate. the darkness has set in, he feels it's too late. the light he once knew, unable to find him. his light is fading, almost to dim.
A never fading thought
If i thought for just one moment that your voice would be the last i'd hear, i'd listen attentively and promise not to shed a tear.
Beneath her coat was a whole identity
She would go for days without shedding a thing, and then, as if a bottle rolling off a counter, she would shatter, sending shards of self flying, and then we'd all see.
Fluffybutt Prose Poems: Midnight
The fox mob has a considerable body count on their resumé, but midnight himself sheds no blood, he only serves bruises.