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Literature Text
Name: Maxwell (Max)
Age: 21 (August 15)
Height: 200 cm (6'6")
Weight: 135 kg (297 lb)
Species: Canis lupus arctos (Arctic Wolf)
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Weaponry: HK416 // M4 carbine // SCAR
This wolf's heterochromatic eyes shown to great contrast. His left iris was pinkish-
red and his right one was so steely green it was almost grey. The right eye was also
scarred badly. His muzzle also sported several scars and his nose ended in a ring. A
circular gouge had been taken out of the tip of his left ear as well. He had other,
similar scars all over his body including a large one from the top of his right
shoulder to the center of his chest where fur no longer grew. His body was rippling
with muscle, much like a professional wrestler or champion body builder.
He wore no shirt and his battle dress pants were olive green. He wore a belt with a
golden buckle. The belt had a sheath attached, sporting exactly four knives, ranging
in length from two just over a foot to another roughly a foot-and-a-half to the two-
foot cleaver-like knife on his right side. There was a large bulge in his left
pocket, presumably a fifth, pocket knife.
He glared and growled at passersby crushing them in his fiery violence.
Literature
Ugly
You feel that you are ugly
As you stand in front of the mirror
Eyes watchful looking at the image
You're ugly
Close your eyes and look at your soul
Are you still ugly?
You are sensitive, you are beautiful
You're scared and shy
But why scared?
To show the beauty of your soul
The generous person you are
The beauty that hides within
Outer appearance is just a shell
The most important thing grows inside you
A beauty
That makes all ugliness fade away
Literature
BPD
She stands alone in her darkness
And hard as I try
I cannot seem to reach her
There is wall of glass between us
That I feel
Has always been there
So I watch her
Liked a sad, silent movie
Adding lines from the depths of my own memory
Dying a little more each time
I try to reach her
I can see her pain
But I cannot hold it in my hands
And she forever remains
As tangilble
As a long forgotten dream
Sweet... and distant..
Literature
No poetry
No poetry was written,
No fairytales were read.
As if it was forbidden,
By the monsters in her head.
And all they thought was silly,
Was quickly thrown away.
By a girl who had to grow up,
By a girl who couldn't play.
All her dreams and fantasies,
All her fears and hopes.
Thrown in a bag of garbage,
Balloons and skipping ropes.
The teddybears and puzzles,
All had to retreat.
For new puzzles in her head,
She never would complete.
No poetry was written,
No fairytales were told.
Her eyes spoke of a sad tale,
Her hands were always cold.
She thought of no white horses,
For she was no princess.
Her life was about papers,
Suggested Collections
Max is, well... He's got plenty of issues himself. Mainly anger management stuff. But his boss, Kingston, is cool with that–seeing as he's a mercenary.
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