Oh, Lizzy, honey, what happened to you?
Your parents kept telling you to stay true,
But you didn't, you went with the society,
You drank, smoked and stuff of that variety.
Your little brother's playing games. How childish!
You're a 'smokin hot' lady now, you must be stylish.
You walk around the world and the web half-naked,
You let everyone touch you, as if you were bread, freshly baked.
Your boyfriend's really nice and charming,
The way he loves you is really heart-warming.
You meet another one, you don't love him any more...
Dear Lizzy, has it occurred to you that you are a whore?
'Cause that's what you are, honey; with a mere stare,
You
What Makes A Good Editor? by JRollendz, literature
Literature
What Makes A Good Editor?
Introduction
A good editor has many qualities and a lot of responsibilities.
Editors are necessary. They're like a test run before something gets printed or posted online. The editor is the first person to read it, aside from the writer, and can fix the mistakes before it's shown to the public.
Think of it like a new car design. Before it goes on sale or is even made, the design is created for a specific reason. It's then tested for numerous things before being sold to the public.
Likewise, an editor needs to decide if what they're editing is worth the time. Is there a purpose to the piece? Does it benefit the public or audienc
When you look around your basement, you dont see colors or shapes. You miss the edges, the textures. You dont notice the way sunlight pierces through the windows, casting shadows on the floor. You cant smell the vanilla candle, but you can smell the litter boxes. Youre cold despite the fireplace and you feel the history and the tension that this basement holds within its aged walls.
Divorce makes you look at things differently. Its a filter that gets put over your eyes, your heart, even your ears and your tongue. Everything around you looks different, feels different, sounds different, tastes different. You star
Rain falls,
outside my window.
No tears fall,
but I wish they did.
Tears are easier,
than the pain.
I want to let it go,
with water down my cheeks,
I had dreams,
plans.
I knew,
where my life was going.
But now?
I am lost.
What will happen,
if you take your rings off?
What will happen to me,
if I have to split the holidays?
What will happen,
if I have two addresses?
I'm scared,
of the future now.
What will happen to
us?
What will happen to
our family?
What will happen to
ME?
Fuck you, Mother. Fuck you, God.
How about instead of you asking me to thank you every once in a while, you thank me?
Ive never gone off on you. And now you're going off on me.
Im sorry. I dont read minds.
Fuck you, Mother. Fuck you, God.
How about instead of you yelling, you listen to me?
Ive never raised my voice at you. But why do it to me?
Im sorry. I don't ever tell you whats going on.
Fuck you, Mother. Fuck you, God.
How about instead of you telling me what to do, you take care of yourself?
Ive never pushed you around. Not once.
Im sorry. I dont kiss your ass like I shoul