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.
Scarlet red, pulsing with life. The loss is felt as it flows. Being taken in the dark, it is concealed. Swathed in the void of a matrix....
Pain and darkness The feeling of being taken Hidden away, you're blocked off. Voices screaming in the void of my mind. They rage and pound...
Mahogany orbs staring lifelessly. The azure backdrop oozes crimson. Gone. Thump, thump, tick, tock. Her heart is a broken clock. Clock...
  Through the mirror is how we met. Don’t know how, but you got in my head. You stayed for a bit and we talked, had fun. These days the...
Waiting, watching, anticipating. It was happening. She was going home. The excitement was building, the wheels were turning. She was going...

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