TwistedRevolution

Fly free, little birdy. Fly fast, and don't look back. Fly free; don't you worry. Don't you lose track. Now that your free, You'll never return to me. Fly free, little birdy. Fly strong, before your strength is all gone. Fly free, better hurry. It won't be long. You might be free, But you'll always be part of me. Fly free, little birdy. Chirp on, as you head for the beyond. Fly free, and don't forget me. Sing loud to be found. So when I'm free, We can finally be. Fly free, little birdy. Fly fast, and don't look back now. Fly free, don't you worry. Never ask how. Once we're all free, We'll rest for eternity.

Just because you make them think, Doesn't mean the world will fall into place ...

         “God damn it, Nicky!” He barely heard the words, even though they were shouted from across the hall. He should have known better than to go straight to his room after school, but he wanted nothing more than to lie down and close his eyes. There was nowhere to hide in the small house he called ‘home’.  “You failed another test? What’s wrong with you?!” The sandy-haired boy didn’t respond. Instead, he moved to the edge of his bed. His room consisted of a rickety set of drawers and a mattress pushed into the far corner of the shabby room, which seemed to match the well-worn jeans and T-s

Arc Wheaton Age: 55 Hair: Graying Brown Eyes: Honey Weight: 210 Height: 5'6" Look: Being on his own throughout most of the Enmity, he has had better luck than most finding newer clothing and better food. He is a healthy man wearing cargo pants and plaid shirts covered with a rugged leather jacket. Personality: Unyielding and firm to what he believes is right. Many may call him dogmatic or stubborn, but he knows what he is doing, and doesn't trust others to make decisions for him. Background: Born into a new age, he was trained to survive by his father who worked for the newly developed military. When Levi's forces took over the town h

Jayce Conan Age: 25 Hair: Black Eyes: Grey Weight: 185 Height: 5'8" Look: Being part of the rebellion means savaging whatever items you can find in abandoned homes and shops. So, he mostly wears tattered t-shirts and raggedly torn jeans. Personality: Calm and collective when not under pressure, but stern and venomous when questioned or challenged. Generally he has an easy time getting along with those who join his cause, but has recently become short and distant with even his closest friends. Background: Born into this war, survival is all he knows. He takes command of those around him and does whatever is necessary to ensure the safe

Everything's been given; There isn't much left, Clinging to life by one last regret. Fighting to rise, But have fallen so far. Nothing, I fear, could heal these scars. Dried, worn out hands, They crack and they bleed. Burning to bring me all that I need. With Greed and Envy, They're blind to the pain. The human appetite can never be changed. Grabbing and scraping, Searching for more, While red drops, once part of us, fall to the floor. Continue consuming, And with all that we take, No matter how much we give, we can never replace. Knowledge; acceptance. We know what we do, And yet we can't stop, so we just continue. Fake a smile, Pre

Beware the angel with Nightmarish wings, His sickle heart has forgot how to sing. Fear his wrath, and the blade of his scythe, For the look in his eye is as black as night. A hatred for life replaced care in his heart, His only joy: ripping loved ones apart. Always watching, but never around; His deathly steps make no type of sound. Beware the angel with a Nightmarish grin, His decaying heart overflowing with sin. Fear His name, which has never been heard, For the angel declared it a forbidden word. A scream of anguish replaces His name, Filling life with all kinds of pain. Once a warrior of Shibboleth, Now nothing but the harbinger, Dea

Lonely, I remain undefined; A painting missing it's last strokes: A drawing without important lines. Unseen by those gone by, The last to get in on the jokes. Yet I'll never ask why. Forgotten, I freely restrained; A prisoner locked outside his cell: A well-known man without a name. Blindly lost without a cane, Wondering until I inevitably fell. Yet I'm gracious for my bane.

Gods, created by the longing to know, Force their worshipers to flex and bow. The Fire will consume them all Goddesses, built up on high, Believe themselves better than you or I. The Smoke will consume their light Heroes, born from the ashes of men. Bold warriors lost somewhere between now and then. The Flames breath them in Human Beings, imperfection at it's best, Tend to make life an even bigger mess. The Winds have changed their course

A picture is worth a thousand words, So what does that make you? When your little voice goes unheard, The image becomes skewed. A thousand eyes have come to pry, Though much was wrote in vein. For no matter what the Master tried, He was forgotten once again. Tens of hundreds came to see, But many left aghast. None believed his quality, Would ever hope to last. A grand audience is all he wished; It'd greatly help his will. But all he got was a silver dish, Upon which was served his bill. His patience tested a millennium, And his body even more. Never could he understand, The eyes would watch forever more.