The Door Knob.

It begins with a story of a little girl Mia,5 of age,lost her mother to a terrible car accident. Her only hope, her only hero, her everything in her whole wide little world... Her father. She had faced her mother's death with a courage that made the sorrow cry in the face of death.
She now 6 years old was now someone who was never her. Her chirpy childish self was lost in a gloomy girl who always cried herself to sleep,somebody that nobody could ever imagine of... She was scared of nothing but THE TURNING DOOR KNOB.
It began a month or two after her mother died. She would pretend to be dead by holding her breath, by keeping very very still, the moment she heard the door knob turn, she'd be caught of a fear so unkown so unsecure and so very cruel.
The knob turned and her father entered, he would bring her gifts of sorts. Expensive,plush,newest everything that a child of her age would die to have.. BUT, a big but as it always has cuts the path to everything good.
She didn't want all those gifts she was bought,because her father would make her thank him for everything he did for her. Her hero,her everything in her whole wide little world...
She would not know what it was, but it didn't seem right and it hurt her.. It always had. It always would. As she stared at the ceiling all the time her father was there it made her cut off from the world,her world.
She resesnted it,it had hurt her. Night after night. It had made her hate herself,her hero,her life and moreover That Door Knob which even though how much she wanted not to turn,but it did. The Door Knob Turned.

Source: www.rebelcircus.com

Sometimes...

Sometimes we see the world for what it is not,
We see it black or white,
Sometimes you choose to fall for love,
The other times it falls for you,defeats you,
Sometimes you want for yourself to be on the top of both the worlds,
And sometimes you just see yourself lag,
Sometimes you would want to sacrifice your being to hold your pride high,
Sometimes the sands of deserts Slip like tricky time,
Sometimes you struggle in the race against all odds,
Othertimes you see the feeling of a winner buds,
Sometimes And ONLY sometimes it feels you are lost in this world of black and white,
At other times you choose the rosy glasses that make it all red,
But Everytime we forget that that picture of perfect black and white,
Which with the passing time has blurred its lines,Has blurred its all meanings,
Has now become the world itself..
Which always HAS BEEN..
Which always IS...
Which always WILL BE...
FIFTY SHADES OF GREY.............