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urbancheetah

  • Other Poetry Re: Beautiful Disaster

    She’s sitting on the dark and dusty floor The bathroom stall is filled with the hate inside of her But this doesn’t help so she lies to them Those compliments ...

    Wed Aug 17, 2011 1:07 am
  • Dramatic Poetry Re: Cursed

    **thanks to all who commented on my spelling and grammar issues. I've hopefully fixed them all!** "Come to me now" Her heart's whispers blow through the misty coldness. Quickly and ...

    Thu Aug 11, 2011 6:09 pm


For a short space of time I remained at the window watching the pallid lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of the Arve, which pursued its noise way beneath. The same lulling sounds acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessed the giver of oblivion.
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein