The Tortoise

And it wondered while in wandered,
As it left the badger's hole towards the distant yonder:

"Raised like a badger I was,
think like a badger I thus,
yet a place I have none,
in this hole I felt shunned."

Without any further say,
it crawled further away,
in the shadow of the day,
to live by the lonely bay.

Until its life finally decay.

死亡之境界

今天和昨天，昨天和今天，不管是哪天我的人生都是在过着一场无限恶梦的境界。自从五年前开始我已经失去了全家庭，之后我慢慢看着我的好伙伴们依次从我人生病死，饿死，或者战死。就好像死神在我耳边磨蹭着，低声着唱无穷漫长的悲歌。

不过今晚的悲歌终于唱到它的结尾了。

我的冷冰冰的身体躺在泥土上动弹不得。我白色的衬衫慢慢地化成鲜红的颜色，此象一朵玫瑰渐渐开花。不久前在我胸部纠缠剧烈的疼痛已经麻了，心里面蓄积的沮丧终算被释放，然而有一片小的幸福感取代了。一直以来的快乐拮据总算来到它的终点线。

啊呀。我离开人生前唯一的遗憾就是无法把跟玛丽的誓言继续遵守了。玛丽。。。请你原谅我。玛丽。。。再见了。。。

The puzzle piece

In a world of jigsaws I live in,
as one of the pieces I cannot fit in,
thus wonder if this piece a mistake it had been,
a part of life's puzzle that should never be seen.

As a piece with rigged edges of seven,
with the color of a pearl from heaven,
I only wished to be an edge with five,
and the matching color of green's life.

And so painfully I severe two edges,
in hopes I fit between the rounded ledges,
as well as holding my breath unseen,
so that my face would finally turn green.

Though I can finally fit in between like a vein,
my sides and stumps are always in pain,
and I could only be green for a while,
otherwise I would lose my breathless smile.

Hence I could only masquerade,
in this world full of charade,
knowing deep inside I have no place,
yet I could only pretend with hidden disgrace.

Knowing I am not part of this base,
along with the smile on my teary face.

But I still need to deceive,
Upon these false beliefs,
so thus I can still live.

The Little Mermaid (Part 2)

My wish now unfulfilled,
My desires like an extinguished pyre,
Now rests a hollow heart brimmed with sorrow,
Where the morrow comes so do torment follows.

Yet every sunrise I see it rise,
The moment of lament I was demented by,
I felt free from its cruel imprisonment,
with the sense swelling from sight of birds in flight.

And then when night falls,
the stars and moon like lighthouses in the sky,
guide my lonely feelings away towards the endless skies,
and imagined I am one of the stars like a starry aria.

Thus with conflicting lament and bliss,
I continue to exist without being missed,
for my tales continue on in books and songs,
of a melancholic mermaid longing for home.

The Little Mermaid (Part 1)

I gaze afar towards the distant seas,

Longing for home in lodging agony,

upon the rock I sow my sorrowful song,

where with the wind's guidance I sing in silence.

Then time flows in a rhyme,

of unending cycle in shape of spiral,

of life and demise as surmised in my songs,

yet I am still here alone sheared from home.

My skin no longer of gold,

now only in cold bronze to be borne with,

along my tail that no longer could sail,

I could not curse nor asperse my state.  

For an object of stone and bronze could not even mourn.

One bullet left, in the chamber it rests

One bullet left,
in the chamber it rests.

Above the trenches I peered,
in the midst of hailstorm of shrapnels and lead it seared,
where crimson mists of exploding pieces I witnessed,
of dying brothers and comrades as I lay in my weakness.

One bullet left,
in the chamber it rests.

I lay quietly in fear,
more so than anger and hate I once bear.
Confined by blackened hills and sobbing sky,
with helpless cries heard as they all slowly die.

One bullet left,
in the chamber it rests.

The rumblings finally ended,
then came the sounds of marching from hills descended.
Beyond the blackened smoke the shadows came,
Like the angels of death finally appeared to damn.

One bullet left,
in the chamber it rests.

A choice to be made while I am still sane,
to avenge fallen brothers and pride with bane.
With a quick aim I could deliver a killing grace,
of an unsuspected foe he would wear a shocked face.

One bullet left,
in the chamber it rests.

Or should I surrender to my weakness,
for my spirit's courage was absolutely seedless.
I would leave the barrel on my head it should lie,
with a gentle squeeze of trigger I will thus gracefully die.

One bullet it takes,
where peace I can finally embrace.

Stories from Farthland: The Song Giver

THE SONG GIVER

The tales of the Song Giver,

Of a maiden known for naught but her title,

And her heavenly voice that sweetly chimes,

Sung with words that flowed in beautiful rhymes.

Known to wander across the lands with humility,

Donned only with weathered robe of earthly brown,

And an old cloak that fluttered like a maple leaf in autumn’s gale,

Embracing her life as a nestless nightingale.

Her facade carried an image of fragile beauty,

Like a blossoming rose in the winter backdrop,

Yet her azure eyes displayed the strength of endless determination,

As a grass flower that weathered against a storm’s intimidation.

The songs of the Song Giver,

Her name never to be remembered,

But her legend forever immortalized,

With this song and tale I ensure it will be realized.