TheTrueMop

It's too easy sometimes, it really is. Women have absolutely no idea what a man's thinking, or if he's really who he says he is. And that's why it's so easy. A charming face and a personality that works well with theirs is all they want, and all they look for. There's this girl, right? Her name's Veronica. Nice name, and she's gorgeous to boot (not to mention the stupid amounts of cash her parents are still giving her). What's it been, two months now? Usually I'd have given up with a girl by now, but she's got something most other women don't have at her age. She's still a virgin. Nothing gets me going more than taking someone's virginity. Ev

He took his usual route back from the centre of town down that familiar path he had walked so many times in his life. He carried on down the hill, remembering every little thing the council had changed over time. A handrail here, some resurfacing there, it looked completely different, but it still was the same hill he had used countless times before. He felt the cold winter chill on his face, but he shrugged it off. He liked the cold. It was refreshing, awakening and you could always wear another layer if it got too much to handle. He glanced up at the sky and gazed at the crescent moon above him. It was barely five o'clock and already it was

Thy breasts shall not tempt me, Thy legs can not stray me, Thy lips will not clutch me. A love so bold and true flows like water on stone, An ever running stream of joy and desire. For love is more than emotion, Love is a way of life. Something you say. Something you do. Love does not judge that which is loved, Love does not flounder or disrespect, Love does not die. Love will make me dance like a puppet, To a song which is not there. Thy eyes shall tempt me, Thy thoughts can stray me, Thy love will steal me.

How can we convince ourselves, To run races we know we will not finish? Ignorance and façades are the stuff that makes the races seem forever. A race cannot be won on ignorance, But it may make it seem a lifetime, When in reality, A race may be a lap or two, Nothing special, Nothing lasting. Once you have won your race, You may grow tired of standing still, And yearn for another, Be it a quick jog behind closed doors, Or a marathon, Discarding the trophy from your first win. A race should be run honestly, without cheating, or other races may tempt. Run your race and be happy, Run it with the one you want to be with.

How funny life can be, One can be standing upon the highest pedestal, But as the tower climbs, It sways a bends in the wind. A height so grande is trecherous, For if one is so high, The inevitable truth, Is one shall fall. For a time one scrabbles in the dirt, Like a rodent, Scrounging, Looking for the tiniest crumb of comfort. One searches for that pedestal again, One climbs, Yet again, One falls. When all the while, One forgets, One would simply be happy, Upon a stool.