Xeno Hemlock
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Posts tagged sad
Miss You

The day I greet
with a dessert so sweet
my tongue and ice cream meet
but I miss you

The sale is so fly
puts me on a retail high
dropping I ought to try
but I miss you

Jumanji is fun
more animals, less gun
with adrenaline they run
but I miss you

The Chainsmokers are on air
pairs making out everywhere
I act like I don't care
but I miss you

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How to Fall in Love With the Characters You're Writing

Creating fictional characters is one of the great things about being an author. You get to play a deity who fashions humans out of clay, wood, or even plain old flesh then dictate everything that happens to their lives. Cool, eh?

Once you become a deity, you can choose to be one of three things: indifferent, cruel, or compassionate. You can be indifferent and just use your created characters as supporting chess pieces to move along the story you want to tell. You can cruel, inflicting the worst of the worsts on your hapless children. Or you can be loving and compassionate to your fictional babies who owe their existence to you. When I wrote my novel I Killed My Friends and It Thrilled Me, I became the third and I didn't even expect it.

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Good Morning

When you wake up to the sun each morning

He greets you with a smile, calls you 'darling'.

When I wake up I begin my mourning.

Sad. So sad.

 

When you walk outside the sun with a stride,

They pass you by and you beam with much pride.

When I walk outside the sun I go hide.

Shy. So shy.

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#ThinkAboutIt - The Deaths That We Miss

With a tinge of sadness I closed the browser tab where I typed Hemlock Time's URL. If a part of me didn't die with the realisation Hemlock Time would be no more then something else died instead. I conjured a mental funeral for Hemlock Time, delivered a eulogy, and threw a bouquet of daffodils as the coffin was lowered under the ground. Hemlock Time's gone, another trophy for Death.

Thinking of Death made me realise something. We only care about the deaths (that already happened or that are still to come) of people, either ourselves or our loved-ones, and miss other kinds of death that happen here, there, sometime, or somewhere.

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