Elastas

The poet said to the screen, "Why don't you look right to me?" The screen did not reply, and so the poet have a long sigh. He asked the screen again, "Why don't you look right to me?" It replied, "Because you are using a pen."

The good with the bad, happy with the sad. Repetitive rhymes, signs of the times. Imagination isn't dead, but is coming to a halt.

O, MajorGeneralWhiskers, our subjugator, the feline betrayer, death-dealing demon and troll-killing King. Your legend is lies, lurid and false; your cunning capture of Fella, a con for the ages. [Missing Verse] MajorGeneralWhiskers grabbed power, by promise and threat; From Los Angeles to Tokyo, they fell to their knees; But deviantArt stood strong, Internet's truest protectors. MajorGeneralWhiskers' vengeance was instant, inspired, and wicked. [Missing Verse] So ends the story of MajorGeneralWhiskers, the liar, a thief and a scoundrel we of deviantArt commit to the fire.

Finding a path to go down... We don't know where one leads, but have a vague feeling. I'm too indecisive to begin walking. Make this feeling go away... You are already gone by the time I ask for your help. Alone on this path I stand on. Watching others skip along to the left and the right. I can't understand them. Don't they think about where they are heading? I think I need a hand, to grab onto. Pull me please. So I can start walking on my own. Others tell me I can't do that. And so I don't. Here I am standing at this fork. This junction has become a welcome to my eyes everyday. I wave off others now, knowing they are happy w

I wasn't always a loner, in fact, I was loved by my owner. I took him where he needed to go, I did it fast, and sometimes slow. One day he took me to get a checkup, a small thing really. But the young mechanic was evil, and he stripped me. He replaced my insides with junk sprayed with mold, telling my owner I was better off sold. So he left me...abandoned with them, for twenty years. I became the thing despised, used to cause fears. I was the example, and the one lent out to those who left their cars to be plundered. Until that day that he appeared. His car was nice, it came last week, now it was like me, near obsolete. They len

The day of love means I give something for my love. Chocolates and flowers last but a day or so, words are not enough for her. My voice is met with contempt and irritation. And she seems to not care about me. But onwards I go with words for her, for that is what I said I was good for. So take my words to your heart, for I fear I might lose you. If I have lost you then these words will bounce away, and fall with a sad note. My heart will be a cold wall of copper, reverberating those notes for quite some time after.

To get it, is very hard to do. Feelings that need attention, become hard to read. All of this, when no explanation is given.