I’m an actor. No one knows how I truly feel.
I’m an actor. I can lie straight to your face.
I’m an actor. My secrets stay hidden.
Deception is my game, secrets kept hidden the score.
I dare you to try and unravel them.
No one yet has had such luck.
Bluffing isn’t a skill, but an instinct.
My face must not betray my trust.
Lies go undiscovered always.
Because I’m an actor.
I wear masks because I have to.
I hide behind them.
I’m an actor. My secrets stay hidden.
I’m an actor. I can lie straight to your face.
I’m an actor. No one knows how I truly feel.
I’m an actor.
And I’m perfe
I am a Vanguard,
Marching forward endlessly
For a higher cause.
Serving the soldiers
Who rely on my guidance,
insight and judgement.
I seek out the light
In a word of endless dark
And I let it shine.
I stand in the ranks
Of my fellow leading men
And we trudge along.
Roaring like lions,
We approach with angry eyes,
but prepared to love.
Lighting up the world,
Seeking darkness, spreading love,
I am a Vanguard.
To Keep from Seeing the Tears by Seth-Kelchuk, literature
Literature
To Keep from Seeing the Tears
I hide my feelings from the world
As I have done for years.
I bottle everything inside
To keep from seeing the tears.
Through love and loss and tragedy,
This pain that burns and sears,
I try and force it out of mind
To keep from seeing the tears.
I have to hold myself up high,
As I have done for years.
But this time others are dependent
On my holding back the tears.
I look around, and sadness reigns,
Even as Christmas nears.
I cannot help it if the others
Cannot stop their tears.
But then you find a way inside
And fill me up with cheer.
I cannot explain how you do it,
But it helps with the tears.
You make me right, you mak
Who says
That you don't know enough?
That you can't handle it?
That you're not strong or tough?
Who thinks
That they're superior?
That you're below them?
That they don't feel fear?
Who wants
To keep it by the book?
Hold the status quo?
Tell you how you should look?
I say
You're awesome how you are.
That you're incredible.
That you're my shining star.
I think
They don't know what to do.
They wanna bring you down
'Cause they're below you.
I want
To show you how I feel.
'Cause you deserve to know
That all of this is real
Don't say
That you won't make it through.
Don't think
That you can't hold true.
Don't want
To cha
It didn't take long for Lane to finish the message. He was almost done, anyway. The last bit was in the wrong colors, the wrong style. But at least it got done.
He was admiring his work when he realized something: the security guards were watching him. Not just a few of them either. It seemed as if every security guard in the building had gathered on one floor to watch. Before any plan of escape could register, a window swung open and a silver dart flashed towards him, crackling with electricity.
The stun gun snagged his wing. The tiger convulsed in pain and began to drop, screaming. His form began to slip. His frame became slightly smal
Lane made it to the top of the building with only three minutes to spare until go-time. He quickly set up a series of ropes and pulleys that would allow him to move methodically floor-by-floor without the guards seeing him. He wasn't sure how well armed they were, and he didn't want to find out. And, with the sun hidden behind Silversmith Tower, nobody would notice a black tiger wearing black jeans, sneakers and a hoodie in the shade. At exactly 3:30, he began his descent.
Floor 48. He had his idea in mind, and had mapped it onto the wall in his mind. He located his deep purple and bright blue paint sticks and slid across the building, the
Lane's job was simple: he was the personal assistant to Michael Silversmith, a rich husky whose company did a little bit of everything. He filed papers, made coffee runs, and did any other odd jobs around the office that could free the more important workers to work. The hours were flexible, and he was given an inordinate amount of vacation time and incredibly high wages for such a simple job.
At least, that's the official story.
That's the job he signed on for, anyway. Lane's true passion was art, or, more specifically, having his art be seen. He had a checkered past as a street artist. His work had been seen by thousands upon thousands
The midday sun shone through the open window and onto the bed. Lane shifted uncomfortably to get the light out of his eye. Just as he began to drift back to sleep, there came a long, loud knocking on the door. "Ungh..." the lion moaned as he dragged himself out of bed. He walked over to the full-length mirror on the wall to examine himself.
His tawny fur was sticking up at odd angles and his mane was messier than he would have liked. A green streak ran through his mane and goatee. He stretched his arms up and yawned, sending a ripple through his body. His fur now straightened, he gave a small smile of approval. The visitor knocked again. "
Amelia's Final Farewell by Seth-Kelchuk, literature
Literature
Amelia's Final Farewell
The Doctor is brave, and he never backs down.
The Oncoming Storm he's been called.
So what ever could break a man so renowned?
What ever could have so much gall?
Amelia Pond, little girl who so waited
For her raggedy man in a box.
Rory the age old Centurion soldier,
Sacrificed for a paradox.
This couple, these lovers, they shared quite a bond
With the Time Lord, their dear son-in-law.
But the Angels, they came, Weeping Angels of death.
They're the threat that not one person saw.
Now the Doctor and River, both broken and blue,
In their eyes have tears ready to swell.
For the world sat and watched, in desperate horror,
Amelia's F