Poems from IcylanaLove

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Kennaah Martin, a 17 year old avid reader with a fiery passion for writing, who enjoys watching TV, eating Chinese food, and studying the ways of the most gorgeous character ever to be created in a book series: Jace Wayland, the Shadowhunter whose brilliant sarcasm is unmatched in every sense of the word. She, Kennaah, not the character, lives in a place of fantasy, feeling the thrill of seeing everything through the lenses of discovery, while at the same time being a citizen of reality. The world this girl inhabits is seen through two different views in her eyes; the first side being the world of the real, the other side being a universe where the unknown things lurk, waiting to be noticed. In the physical plane she is constantly in the world of fact, though at every opportunity she boarders the line between the two, to get a feel for the unknown in its many forms. To say Kennaah is strange is like saying a black hole is deep, when a black hole is a bottomless pit of dark nothingness - the strangeness of this girl knows no bounds. The voices in her head constantly vie for her attention, begging to be noticed and made alive within the pages of her novels. Some may call this condition schizophrenia, but she calls it creativity. Her imagination is beyond the stratosphere in a galaxy all its own. Some might think that living two opposing tides would be challenging and difficult, but what it really seems to do is snap everything into razor sharp focus as well as reveal the fact that life is not only black and white, but contains multiple shades of gray. Kennaah Martin is one girl who will not soon forget this lesson and is very proud to say that she still continues to learn it.
Glossy scabbers shining so bright Tat - tat- tat - tattered tonic They scampered, got scalped Enthralled in menagerie. Orange soaring...
On this day they rise from the tomb. Some from a very far off home. On this day we watch them rise, when the night stars are in the...
Dark as night, when the clock strikes 12. Hiding in the shadows; it cries. Tick, tock, tick, tock. It’s almost time to rise and take...
Electric eyes, With silver strands. Calculated movements, he is a hunter. Living in the night, he comes to play. Through x-ray eyes he...
Through the looking glass; Down the rabbit's hole. We all have a story yet to be told. The game of life they say, yet I've no desire to...

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