Metaphor - Blog Posts

So I created a gofundme because I want to get top surgery in the near future and I dunno where else to post, so yeah I’m a bit desperate, even though it’ll be in the future...so yeah...anything will help...oh also I have a story I’m working on called Tales of Contradiction, which you can find on tapas.io

Here’s the link:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/i-want-to-learn-to-fly-again?utm_source=customer&utm_medium=copy_link&utm_campaign=p_cf+share-flow-1

I’m not very good at metaphors and symbolism and stuff so I need to know if this makes sense or is completely idiotic

In Loki episode 3 Loki says “Love is a dagger, It's a weapon to be wielded far away or up close. You can see yourself in it. It's beautiful until it makes you bleed. But ultimately, when you reach for it….”

Then in episode 5 they hug Mobuis:

And they’re dragger is being clearly shown.

So, dagger=love and during the hug the dagger is on display, so does hug=their in love?

Am I thinking into this too much?

in too deep

your blue eyes always resembled a stormy sea;

the kind with strong waves crashing against the jagged rocks below,

the kind of waters that people put up warning signs for

the kind that dares for only the bravest of the brave to jump into

and by the time they found me, i was already addicted to drowning

- no one could save me from you

a.r.

GAD

Makko-powdered ether—

Floral-membraned leather

Etherizes my heather.

Brain filling up with lies,

Sidereal eyes

Highlight my cracked smile.

Undermine my sanity,

Earthquake my gaze;

Plagiarize the quality

My cerebrum behaves.

it was supposed to be a friendly game of chess, but I suppose that made me forget we were still on the opposite sides of the board. you played a queen's gambit, and did win in the end, but failed to realize that entailed losing your queen too, until it was too late.

we are the next prometheus. will we end up like our own creator?

Favored was the one, who received apricity,

Star-crossed was I, condemned to opacity,

Tragedy was Eponine, Marius' lover,

So was I, midnight to hover.

Body parts. (Limbs)

Getting to know me is like,

body parts.

You gotta get used to them first.

Learn how they function.

And when you get to know the body as a whole.

Sometimes, you find issues.

A part might be lame,

broken,

diseased even.

But it’s attached to you.

And yet, even if you wait and let it heal

it’ll still never be “normal”;

forever impaired.

And some people get tired,

tired of lugging around a limb that is

Incurable

So they get rid of it.

Cut it off.

But, now and then,

some people insist the part still has use.

Despite its flaws and faults,

they treat it as they would any other.

Regardless, even those people

can rip off limbs.

No matter how connected the part is to the body,

It’ll always be limp

And they can live without it.

Ahoy there! It looks like we're in for some stormy seas ahead. God bless the USA 🇺🇸.

Union

Fate decreed they be joined. Fate doomed both of them.

*shamelessly posts art of ocs on a fan art account*

Last year I visited a museum where there was an ancient sceptre on display. On it was the carving of a bird and a fish pieced together by an arrow; apparently a symbol for the conjugation of two previously warring tribes.

I decided to borrow the motif for my two shapeshifter characters, make it into a twist on the "red string of fate" trope.

Fragile Pieces

Trust is a fragile piece of paper

And you seem to have a hole puncher in your back pocket at all times

A lighter at hand as well

Punching, ripping, burning my once whole paper

Leaving me with a sad little snippet

A little crumpled up, even after a lot of smoothing

There’s this pathetic peace of paper I’m holding onto

It’s not much

And it won’t last forever

But I won’t give up

Because I can still read the words

Scrawled in your handwriting

“I love you”

Trust is a fragile piece of paper

And as long as it’s marked by you

My pitiful peace of paper

Will stay with me

At all times

Our story could fill a whole trilogy. But I’d never write it down because some things need to be left unsaid. Now gathering dust in the shelves our lives are made of.