FICTIONS
Eye of Raven
Peril in Menacing Throb
Poignant of the Broken Memory
Wielding Katana
DRABBLES
Forgotten Melody
Gift of Immortality
Perhaps...Love is Another Word to Express Hatred
Raisonnement, Confiance, Fric
Man of Crow
The Making
Bitter Farewell
Sailing the Boat
How I Met a Demon. (29 NOVEMBER 2011 - 17:02)
Who Am I?
Demonic Me
Demonic Lilith
Soldier
The Child: Me.
Knowledge
Dying Me
Valuing My Life
Mixing Potions of Feelings
A Deadly Game
Tampering in a Tub
Renovating My Heart
The Master He Only Have
A Man and a Piano
Two Peas in a Pod
Death is the New Beginning
Ignorant Me
Wittering Serenity
Entering Battlefield
My Name is L.
A Fight To Come
POEM
A Man Can Die But Once
Eternally Remembered
Forever and a Day
I Like This Place and Willingly Spend My Time In It
Miserable Have No Other Medicine but Hope
To the Tiny Being
A Pearl Among the Pebbles
Who I Am
A Somebody
ONE SHOT REQUEST
Psychosis Attraction By SSLL Staff @ SSLL
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Credits
- Content by : Pararae
- Designed by : Dorkistic.Net
- Hosted at : Blogger
The Making
"This girl, who once I knew
Once upon the midnight blue,
She stared at the mountain, high atop of the snowy build
Her hair flopped back, over her rips"
I stared at the mirror, and somehow, I felt strange. The reflection of a girl, with tan Asian skin, curly raven haired and round black eyes stared back at me. Her eyes looked familiar, the depth of her pupils seemed like abyss, inviting and drowning its watchers into the rabbit hole, where darkness is eternal. And yet, the features of the small girl looked bizarre...different, as if I have never seen her before. It is like she has just popped out of nowhere and stood like, claiming the room hers' and leaving me out of place.
"The girl who I once knew
Under the reflection of the neon
She stared at the golden pool
and saw a princess holding silver and golden ball"
I tried to ponder, where it has all gone wrung. The girl who looked so innocent, so naive, with her smile curved so wide that she wishes to brighten everyone's face with her lines of teeth. But now, all that has left of her, just a girl, with pin-up hair, straight looks, downward curve lips and black and white suit. It is like butterfly, sprang from a lifeless cocoon.
But I always wonder whether my case works differently.
A butterfly, which sprang from the Borealis cocoon, was splashed in dreary grey.
So pitiful, so boring...
But, this is me, the making of a girl, who called herself, the runner...
Painting Me,
Pararae
DATE:Friday, July 26, 2013
TIME:{10:54 AM }
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