We talk to people online opening up about our lives hopefully they share theirs too But honestly, what do we know? Sharing stories, pictures, photos Of our interests, hopes dreams and possibly our family But honestly, what do we know? We might grow close feeling like we share a bond of friendship possibly love But honestly, what do we know? We may talk all the time either on the phone or video chat or sending messages con...
Life at times deals one dastardly fates.Accusations of crime open flood gates. Tried and convicted not given a chance.Some assume you're guilty of this dance. Nauseating twinge sets in stomachs pith.As others continue spreading this myth. Can one do anything to dispel such lies?Judged without merit brings on demise. Would a true friend accuse, not ask?Did you perform this disgusting task? Will anyone ever believe your wor...
This musing only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.They say that there is someone for everyone. If that's the case, then somewhere out there, in that big, wide world, there is a fat, grumpy, depressed, cookie-eating, diet coke-swilling bloke who's pushing forty, whilst wearing stripy socks, glittery shoes, and insisting on throwing bits of gingerbread men out into the sea "for...
My name is Mindy. I'm five years old. My hair is long and brown. I live with my mommy. She says my hair is pretty. She says I'm pretty, too. My mommy has to work a lot. I miss her but I get to stay with my Meme. My Meme is very old. Mommy is old too, but not as old as Meme. Meme says she was a young girl once. I can hardly believe that. But I always believe my Meme, and I love to stay with Meme because we cook together an...
It has not always been a subject that concerned me. I mean since I first got online and started finding people I called friends, or just acquaintances. The fact that these are disembodied people who may or may not be what they say they are. I am the trusting type. I always take people at face value until I am proved wrong. And I have been proved wrong. More than once, and most importantly, by people I had formed a deep an...
I heard an honest man lie A disguise to hide and mask When did respect die Truth found at the end of a flask Sober stories wrapped up Plastic hearts breathe fake love Dependent on culture to make it Fame fortune murder Haikus of distorted pleasure What happened to respect Oh it floated away with the dead I heard the honest cheat A demise to hide and seek Predators absorbed in self image Preying on innocence Cheating out t...
It is said that we live in a free society. I question that and wonder if we are truly free, why has society attached so many strings, saying to us, you can belong if you do this or that, or feel this or that. There seems only to be two holes for us, as members to fit, according to society. Round or Square, we are pegged into one or the other, even if we are a bit oval, or a bit rectangle. Hammered into one or the other, m...
Prologue:With permission, my response to a poem written by a friend to all here on Stories Space. This Is Me: by wildrose_girl.My hairs too long, my body too short. You have what was given you, by the genetics' court. When I laugh really hard, sometime I snort. I hope one day, to hear you laugh and snort. My belly too round, my backside too wide. What should it matter? Stand fast with pride. No matter what I do I can neve...
This stone is more than stone,more than weight against my arms,my shoulders, my neck--more than a stone my legs must shove,my hands must grasp,my lungs must grunt into--more than a moan inside my soulthat comes from knowing there is no escape from where I am,from who I am.This is the burden of my being here,this knowing that my place beneath the stars means endless work,means looking out into the universeof moons and suns...
And you thrummed you fingers into my life. I felt these defences lower Like a retreat called in BattleAnd you made this heart beat, Beloved. When it had refused for years It creaked, groaned and broke asunderAnd so I began to feel slowly. I flailed and stumbled Within the murkiness of feelingsAnd then I began to write, Beloved. Of feelings, of colours With emotion and passionI dug within myself honestly. Exposed the uglin...
