The name's Courtney. :]
I’m the one that people never know the truth about until they decide to search for that truth. Those closest to me are the ones that have managed to see past the obscurity that remains in the minds of those who judge me, the ones that I can relate to through something much more significant than the type of music they listen to or the clothes they wear. I enjoy it very much when I can have a casual, intelligent conversation with another person.
I'm very passionate about what I do, and sometimes very ambitious. You'll see that I'm a much more complex person than your average teenager as well. I can be much more mature than a lot of my peers, or sometimes as childish as a first grader when I am around my friends. I am a person that appreciates the beauty in life, grateful to merely just be granted another day to live.
I write poetry, stories, and songs. I am musician as well as an artist too. I greatly admire the works of Edgar Allan Poe, Anne Rice, and Henry David Thoreau. Never will I dream of becoming a notorious writer as these authors, but I hope that one day I will borderline of it.
It’s one of the saddest things to grow up watching your younger sibling face a life in which he isn’t able to do the things that most kids his age can do. It hurts more than anything to know that he wants to be just like me because I can do the things that he can’t.
I do not wish for glory,
only remembrance,
not like physical idols,
only as essence.
To carve my spirit
into history’s stone
as an epitaph of one
who will always be known.
To achieve immortality
within the hearts I healed,
after being laid to rest
within Death’s forgotten field.
To escape the minds
of the those I have known
is the fear I will carry
until I am the dust of bones.
I pray they remember that
Each and every time it rains,
that much like the water,
I washed away their pain.
Listless, loathsome mentality,
chaining her down to write
the eulogy of
what might have been
her legacy.
She waits to perish,
to be ground into the dust
that is compiled by the
wear of time.
Her hourglass,
she wishes to crush
but this she still sees
as a crime.
A shell of something that was,
that sheltered what could
have been,
but never again will be
The girl that they used to know
as the unbreakable one
that she wanted everybody
to see.
Reblogged from vulgivagus
how far,
how there,
how and where.
look at how the letters escape
my mouth and flail
like the seasons and the tree that
fell upon a fall and cried not over
the green leaves that flew away
but the closer ones to its hands.
I’ve always wanted to know if words,
if language, came about on your…
Reblogged from poeticallyundead
The clouds were heavy in the sky this morning
a tiny voice said
you can’t see the blue through the black
little did I know
it was a whispered omenthe ghosts
they roamed my mind
tearing vigorously at my heart
how I longed for escape
crying over the keyboard
counting the seconds in the day
I longed for light
I yearned for hope
I wanted youbut in the end
all I needed was a frosty cold beer
and the laughter of friendshopefully the sun will come out
when the moon says goodbye
Reblogged from angeltear
Wait for me in the graveyard
where the past dies for us
and the dead drink the rain.The trees suck their blood
I pluck the past in a flower
and offer it to you in an open hand.
A sacrifice. It’s all I have.Let’s blow the petals away
and start again.
The gentle sun grazed our cheeks as we ran together through the open field. The azure skies above watched as we raced, the golden blades of the Summer dancing around us and swaying to the rhythm of the outside world. We were free, free as we moved through the open space that we had to ourselves. Free to laugh and just be the two individuals that we were, in each other’s company. Birds flew as our hearts did, and the river called to us as we reached that recognizable path. Troubles were forgotten, dissolving completely and washed away by the waters of our friend. Both of us felt weightless as we ventured together, grateful to be blessed by the other’s presence. It reminded me that the liberation such as this was short-lived, but in that flash of time the burdens on our shoulders evaporated into sweet dreams that we could only have when alongside another. It left us again so that we could cherish times such as these. He sat beside me, angel’s smile gracing his face and eyes lit with a light that I never want to see falter. Pulling me into his arms, he pressed his lips to my forehead. I was shrouded in a sensation of warmth not from his body, not from the stifling heat of the afternoon, but from the heart of the essence that made him who he was. I was his, he was mine. We were content with what life had handed to us.
I was never aware of the flare of my rage until I distinguished it today. This dark, violent fire’s flames need to be quenched by something that I cannot find. That rains of patience grace it so often that the cloud from which it falls is beginning to run dry. What does one do when they face the drought of tolerance within themselves?
