Dream Princess

Cheap bright lipstick smeared across her pasty thin face,

Teeth rotting, the stench follows her words,

Uneducated and ugly,

What other choice did she have in this world?

Parading on the corner, like a peacock on show

She's working tonight, and waiting

Dreams of a glamorous life have flown away

Self respect forgotten for a buck

“Wanna fuck?” She leers at people passing

No longer seeing them as people

In her mind they're all the same

They all bleed her dry

Emotionless sexual encounters fill her nights,

As dawn comes and the rising sun bathes the city in a golden light

She retreats

Her fix must be got

As the needle hits the vein

The world dissolves around her

Smiling she sleeps in her filthy bed

Dreaming of the princess she never was

Never given the chance to get somewhere, to escape

Life, an endless battle which culminates in death

Death, the sweetest relief

The ultimate drug

Getting ready and into it!

Think about the ways you write, not your style but how you sit, where and what your surroundings are. Are you at a desk, sitting on your bed, or maybe you're at the kitchen table? There are so many different ways in which you could write, and finding what is right for you is key to your success as a writer.

Get Comfortable

If your sitting in an uncomfortable position you wont be able to write for an extended period. Find what works for you and go for it. Getting too comfortable can be a drawback as well. If you are anything like me, daydreaming and comfort equals sleep. So make sure you're sitting up. I suggest sitting at a desk, in a comfortable chair. 

Settle In

Take everything you could possibly need and arrange it around you. I usually take a jug of water, some snacks and a dictionary/thesaurus. This way the only reason for you to leave the desk is for the toilet, or other important reasons. The aim is to limit your reasons for leaving the desk. 

Limit Your Distractions

Turn off the TV, put the phone away and even disconnect the internet. You want to be able to focus everything on the task at hand. Even the smallest of distractions can break your rhythm, once it's broken, it can be really hard to get back into it. So remain focused and remove those distractions before they become a problem.

Stuck?

If you get stuck, don't be afraid to take a break. Go for a walk, listen to some music, bounce idea's off of a friend. Don't just sit there and stare at the screen, that wont help at all. Take a break, even for just five minutes, come back to it and read over everything you have written. You will probably pick up on a few editing mistakes, and with any luck feel fresh and inspired to continue.

Ok guys, the rest is up to you, hope this helped.

P.S. This is an original document, entirely written by me, Breannan Hepburn, please do not reproduce without permission.

Square

Square shoulders, good for square dancing.

The Desperate

Tempt not the desperate

There are times when

They just need guidance

No judgement cast upon them

Wrong doings should be over looked

For desperate times

Call for desperate measures.

Who are we to judge?

Haven’t we all been there before?

Time

The passing of time is something I loathe and detest
Wasted hours spent watching the clock
The moon will rise on time, whether I wait for it or not
Day breaks up the night at the right interval
I watch it come as the sand continues to fall
Time ravages everything it touches
Young women wither and die like flowers in a vase
Men reach their prime too quickly
Children grow up to fast, their longing for age too quickly revoked
No one is safe from the ticking of time
We all end up in the same place once the hours have taken us
Death is nothing, but the passing of ill-spent hours

The Blood Between Clicks

At dawn the bells toll
Dispelling the gloom of the nightly booming parade
the explosion of shells in the streets and the screaming of sirens
The dawn is for the dead, not the cautious frightened faces that peer out the windows,
hoping that the city has not been blown away
That prolonged hour when the sky begins to change
Inky darkness bleeds into the horizon
Leaving behind the tired sun who drifts into the sky

The shimmering orb brings forth the living
those left behind to carry the burden of the dead
Lives cut short by the hammering of machine guns
The distant ticking, that constant clicking, the sound of the clock of time
For some it stops to soon, others plead for its final click

Young men, nothing more than saplings, cut down before they could stretch out towards the beaming giver of life
They spend a heroes eternity in darkness
Never again will they feel the warm glow of the sun

The inconsistency and fragility of life is forgotten
by the people, the milling herd, the civilians
those who's cups are always half empty
They know nothing of the sacrifices made for them, honor is just another word

Alone, on a distant shore, your son dies
His heart bleeds out
On his lips, three words
---"For my country"

In Death

If I were to die tomorrow,
to expire, depart, croak
I would like my words to carry on
become eternal
Let my voice be timeless in the words I spew forth
Should I be remembered for who I am,
who I truly am, not this facade I project,
it would be a tragedy
Let me be remembered as a poet,
as a creator of whimsical ideas
of beauty within the pages.
Remember me not, outside these crisp clean pages, 
forget who I am,
I create an illusion I can not live up to
in death I shall be remembered
as beautiful.