| Registered: | Mar 3, 2005 9:08 PM |
| ID: | 32493 |
| Title: | User |
| Name: | I have no name |
| Gender: | Female |
| Eem: | 1,020,373 |
| Pet choice: | Befriend |
| eeMail: | Send eeMail |
| Forum posts: | Forum posts |
| Achievements: | Member |
| Pets: | hghghghgghghaklfda, I Wanna Be Just Another Shopkeeper, I Dont Wanna Be Just Another Shopkeeper, Guess What Another Shopkeeper, And Another Shopkeeper, Another Shopkeeper, Look At Me Im Just Another Shopkeeper, A Shopkeeper, My Opinion Doesnt Matter Cause Im Just Another Shopkeeper, Wonder How Many Just Another Shopkeepers Shes Gonna Have But Nobody Answers Cause Im Just Another Shopkeeper, lost and loosing all other ways out , I am the newest shopkeeper as of April 6th 2005 |
| Shops: | Produce Shop, Candy Store, Don't Bother |
| Last seen: | 1066 weeks, 3 days, 13 hours, 54 minutes ago |
| "They think they know you The bubbly blonde The smartest and prettiest girl in the whole school The head cheerleader The one who got all the boys But they dont know how wrong they are............... You stare in the huge mirror at your pale and sunken cheeks You see your own rib cage, you've been starving yourself for weeks The spilled pill bottle, empty on your bed All the guilty thoughts that roll around in your head Hiding your smile, with that sparkling white tooth Putting on makeup to cover up the truth A plaster smile spread across your face No one can see through it, your a closed case I know what your thinking, that knife looks like the open door Its the only way out, you think as your tears fall to the floor You think your the only one, facing the world alone But your wrong because you can always hold me and come home I will always be there no matter who you are Cant we play like we used too? Wishing on that sparkling star? I will stand by you, helping you climb back up I'll sing to you at nightime....feed you through a sippy cup... I just want to help, dont push me away Because even if you do, Im your freind....and here to stay" -dark_poet116 FRIENDS: wolf lover icecat snowy wolf(left ecritters because of evil newbies) Silence and Night Fall music child Critter kbl ocean mist terra rock sk8er pet icecat234 Dark Goddess Teen titan lover If you are a dark poetry fan, please eemail me! TRUE! nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why WILL you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How then am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily, how calmly, I can tell you the whole story. It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain, but, once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture -- a pale blue eye with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me my blood ran cold, and so by degrees, very gradually, I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye for ever. Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded -- with what caution -- with what foresight, with what dissimulation, I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night about midnight I turned the latch of his door and opened it oh, so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern all closed, closed so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly, very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this? And then when my head was well in the room I undid the lantern cautiously -- oh, so cautiously -- cautiously (for the hinges creaked), I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights, every night just at midnight, but I found the eye always closed, and so it was impossible to do the work, for it was not the old man who vexed me but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he had passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed , to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept. Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers, of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was opening the door little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea, and perhaps he heard me, for he moved on the bed suddenly as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back -- but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness (for the shutters were close fastened through fear of robbers), and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily. I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening , and the old man sprang up in the bed, crying out, "Who's there?" I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed, listening; just as I have done night after night hearkening to the death watches in the wall. Presently, I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief -- oh, no! It was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself, "It is nothing but the wind in the chimney, it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or, "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes he has been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions ; but he had found all in vain. ALL IN VAIN, because Death in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel, although he neither saw nor heard, to feel the presence of my head within the room. When I had waited a long time very patiently without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little -- a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it -- you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily -- until at length a single dim ray like the thread of the spider shot out from the crevice and fell upon the vulture eye. It was open, wide, wide open, and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness -- all a dull blue with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones, but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person, for I had directed the ray as if by instinct precisely upon the damned spot. And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses? now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage. But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder, every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! -- do you mark me well? I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me -- the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once -- once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But for many minutes the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more. If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. I took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly so cunningly, that no human eye -- not even his -- could have detected anything wrong. There was nothing to wash out -- no stain of any kind -- no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. When I had made an end of these labours, it was four o'clock -- still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, -- for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises. I smiled, -- for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search -- search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim. The officers were satisfied. My MANNER had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears; but still they sat, and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct : I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definitiveness -- until, at length, I found that the noise was NOT within my ears. No doubt I now grew VERY pale; but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased -- and what could I do? It was A LOW, DULL, QUICK SOUND -- MUCH SUCH A SOUND AS A WATCH MAKES WHEN ENVELOPED IN COTTON. I gasped for breath, and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly, more vehemently but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why WOULD they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men, but the noise steadily increased. O God! what COULD I do? I foamed -- I raved -- I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder -- louder -- louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly , and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! -- no, no? They heard! -- they suspected! -- they KNEW! -- they were making a mockery of my horror! -- this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! -- and now -- again -- hark! louder! louder! louder! LOUDER! -- "Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! -- tear up the planks! -- here, here! -- it is the beating of his hideous heart!" -Edgar Allen Poe(the tell-tale heart) Hope is lost Lost to another shore. All that matters Gone evermore. Need to reclaim To complete who I was, Who I am. Never will be Without Hope there, beside. Help me find I can't do it alone. All these feelings inside That I just cannot shut out Will not. They burn within my heart, mind, soul. Always with me. Constant torture Without Hope. A scorching load Naught can quell. Pain increasing I need relief. Suffocating from despair. Thick dark clouds No salvation in sight. Yearning for Hope Standing there, Awaiting me. Take me from the shadows Let me feel you, Shining. But you won't. Hope is lost, Lost to another shore. What I need most Never mine evermore. -anonomous Love vs Marriage All consuming Breathe it. Taste it. Feel it. You know it's there. Alwaya there. You cannot escape. Wouldn't want to. Strong like the diamond You wear like achain. Binding you Marking you sold. Eternal like the God You allow to govern ceremony. Admit yourself Below and insignificant. Safe like the Church Open to all. Those who believe Those that don't and amusement seek. Feel a need. Now. You're being stifled. Confined to control. Prisoner in your own life. Must break away From servitude and eternity. Impossible you know. You feel it Taste it Breathe it And know you can't live without it there Suffocating you. -anonomous Living the Lie Take me Away from here. I can't stand this pretence Any longer. She smiles Another lie I'm expected To believe. She lives life False and fake. With all appearance of reality. She speaks Seriously believing that we don't see Through her. She lies Naturally to make herself seem special. Truth hurts. I can't listen It hurts she needs to lie To me. I can't know What's truth or not... Believe nothing I can't open Myself to her false visage Need the person within. I can't see Where to go from here. Something will happen, Be assured I can't understand She thinks us ignorant enough To believe I can't trust My friend who I don't know At all. Live in hope She will one day Admit and undo. I'll be there Waiting, as always To find the real her. -anonomous Schizophrenia Secrets I hide. Dreams I am ashamed of. Aspirations I fear Thoughts not sane. Feelings unnatural Run through my veins. Ideas, disturbing. Memories not my own Terrified faces Of what I don't know. Constant pressure Malevolence within. Events missed in person Yet somehow in memory. Emotions derived from unknown events. Hatred to love, No understanding why. Unable to control outbursts Alienated and alone. Others stay away Though less scared than I. My mind turns, Daily against itself Nothing I can do. Live with the torment, No way out. Half of my life lived By another. Another me, Yet different. Cannot understand Cannot comprehend. Another person's means Achieve the same end. -me Depression and darkness No one to turn to My heart says there's someone But doesn't know who Don't think there's anyone That cares about me I believe that alone Is what I'm destined to be A rainy fall day The gift of foresight A red sun is rising Out of nowhere Daylight. What is this heavenly Gift from above? Could it be anything Other than love? Never expected As I wildly dreamed Any one boy Could be more than he seemed Appeared in a flash that was Blinding to sight Delivered from darkness Into the Daylight -clarinetlover82 Shadows of a live I’m never truly living. Blind to everyone trying to help. Only see those evil glances, On faces I once new as a friend’s. Where have they gone, My soul has gone with them. And their faces are a blur, Empty memories gone by, Am I truly living, or is this another trance? -me My best friend forever, but forever ran so short. Left me in your sorrow, Knew not what else to do. You chose the wrong path, so why does your voice always ring in my head? I hear it when i'm alone and fearing what's ahead. -me Nothing Destroy my life, Take away my pain, For in this life I have nothing to gain. Nothing to hope for Nothing to see No reason to stand under the old oak tree. No reason to dream of summers to come, Of places to visit, Of the light of the sun. Destroy my life Take away my pain Cleanse my soul Make me whole again. Take away my saddness Take away my need. Take away my sickness Take away my greed. Destroy my life, Take away my pain. Bury me now You won't be to blame. For, I'm already dead, As dead as can be. Like the poor deer lying Beneath the old oak tree.-anonymous There is a silence in the air As I listen from my window. Something stirs out there, In that void of black. And as I turn away, Something calls me back. I want to go, But a voice inside says no. A silent voice whispering in my ears, But drowned out by all the tears Cut off by all my fears. That volcano inside finally erupts. Molten sorrow in the air Ash of mourning everywhere. Lava from my dark desires Earthquakes forged from angry fires. I am left alone now, Wandering through the ashen clouds. All the rubble at my feet Destruction of my inner being. Everything kept hidden now revealed, All of the life that I kept sealed. Now the window is closed tight, Now I can withdraw into the night.-me Oblique and perceptive Skin whiter than pale. A mind rarely found, But when discovered jailed. An innocent animal crushed, No more than a rat in a cage. Hiding her emotions completely, Blanketed to keep other's rage. A stone cold face, As hard as diamond ice. Eyes wide with frustration Maliciously clicking the dice. Living in twisted shadows, Tightly clutching Russian dreams. In her white scarred arms Meticulously torn to the seems. Dissapointed at the world For spawning nought but hate. Not all become enlightened and She is left to carry the weight. Day by day, dwelling on life, Others oblivious to sorrow. Living life without thought to reason Unfulfilled and forever hollow. She crouches in shadows Seeking sactity in the dark. With realisation comes depression, Always alone with others bark. She has no-one to confide in, Does anyone feel the same? Or is she all alone As she sees the world create more pain? On the surface appearing tainted, Living with melancholly means. Gifted with words and insight, Balancing sanity on the beam. -anonymous Always inscribing thoughts and perceptions Others are unable to see. Quietly scribbling the horrors around us. Insignificant, to us, as a tree. Misunderstood and brilliant, A beautiful mind contained. Blessed with endless intellect Cursed with knowledge's pain. -anonymous Cloud full of poison Gentle rain burns my skin. Memories of you, Permanently marked for all to see. My damaged fragile body. The canvas you used To show your pain. Gashes formed from scarlet openings. Incisions gave a river that helped Rest your mind. Destroying mine. White scars left from blazing blades Forced upon my brittle skin. Burning my visage to give you More confidence in your own. -me Affected By the death of someone I didn't know. Remembering Their smile I never saw. Recalling Their voice I never heard. Missing The embraces I was never part of. Feeling the loss Sensing the sorrow. Enduring the emptiness Their demise has caused. Feeling for you Regretting I can't help. Empathising inside For what you shouldn't have to bear. Mourning the end of someone I didn't know. -anonymous Midnight, Shadows darting across my wall. Only blackness, Only silence. No one to hear me cry when I fall. What happened to all the hopes, I used to dream about? Where did they go, And what is left? Where is that happy girl, that smiling face? Now there’s nothing left but misery and woe. The clock strikes one, and I’m waiting in silence. No more dreams to dream, No more hopes to hope. No more reasons to wish upon that twinkling star. What happened too my life, Why do I wish no more. Not truly living, But never gone. Dusk enters my life, Shadows creep up. I hold in my suffering, But it only leads to more. Where is my will to live, And when can I die? Shadows overtake me, making it impossible to see where my path leads. -me A Trance, A Lie: Footsteps echo, breaking the silence. But no one walks by. A light flickers on, But nothing is lit. My imagination playing tricks on me, Only seeing what I want to see. Why can’t I just die? Echoes of words unspoken. Memories of moments never shared. I go on living, yet living in a trance. Deaf to what I don’t want to hear. Blind to what I don’t want to see. What is going on with me, And why can’t I die? Friends that I never met. Family I’ve never seen. Shadows of a life I’m never truly living. Whispers from an unseen mouth. Light shining in total darkness, The darkness of my soul. Nothing left to hope. Nothing left to dream. Wishes left to die on the shelf. What happened to me? Why can’t I smile anymore? My path isn’t an open door. Feelings, something’s taking over me. There’s a fog hanging around my heart. I’m no longer an open book. You don’t just come inside and look. A coldness pierces through my heart, And the world seems dark. Memories of a life I’m never truly living. Answers I never truly understand. Hiding everything with one forced smile, But the lies stretch out for miles. Life is a lie, And death is pointless. What’s left for me? Nothing to lie for, And nothing left to do. My whole life ahead of me, Yet already I am dead. Only living inside my head. How long can I pretend, How long can I go on, Am I just some God’s pawn? Pain, stabbing through me. Guilt, done some bad things. Lies, friends never truly there. How long can I push it all aside? Can’t leave it anymore. To rot on my bedroom floor. The end to a beginning. How can I go on? The fire inside of me, Is loosing its glow. Only a spark is left, And dying slow. Is this the end of me, Are you seeing right through me? It’s hard to understand. Can’t focus, just loosing concentration. Can’t care, my heart is empty. My life is a struggle, a lie. Friends that have left, Family that will never understand. One voice, standing out in my mind. And memories flood back. But the memories aren’t mine. Something’s missing from me. Something’s not how it used to be. If I died, What would it prove? If I live, What good will it do? Where is my path, I must form my own. But what will lie ahead, And when will it all end? -me (there is an inside meaning to why this one is so long) Feelings, something’s taking over me Taking everything, I'm no longer free. Whispers from an unheard voice Telling lies I must believe, I have no choice. Dreams left on a shelf to rust Hopes sitting, collecting dust. Something is controlling me Never seeing what I want to see When am I to be set free? -me Who am I? I'm... 24601![/bg] Few Facts About 24601= -14 -lives in the USA -name is Sarah -"I'm not weird, I'm just original." favorite quote -Les Miserables is my favorite book, movie, and play 24601 FAQ= Q-Will you be my friend? A- My friendship is something earned, not asked for. Q- Will you give me an item? A- No. Q- Are you schizophrenic, depressed, etc. A- Yes. Q- Will you join my army? A- Depends, what is it called? Q- Did you write that poetry? A- If it's signed "-me," then yes. Q- So, will you write a poem so that I can use it? A- Depends. 24601 only writes certain types of poetry. Q- Do you want to talk? A- No. Q- Why are you talking in 3rd person? A- If 24601 is talking in third person, chances are she is really bored. Q- So, why is 24601 your username? A- 24601 was Jean Valjean's prisoner number (in Les Miserables) and I wanted it as my username.  thanks onti7! | |