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a little broken
anger past restaint
highschooltime flys by
nobody looks you in the eye
i stare at them
they stare at you
a glare, a sideways glance
like trapped mice
these are our lives.
Achei stare at your picture, and i swear your eyes are staring back.
but instead of the joy you brought me, your gaze brings me back.
back to that day, back to the hour.
it replays in my head, i tell it to stop.
inside im screaming, i cant get past this block.
i close my eyes, holding back the tears.
your voice fills my head, an accusing fume.
you yell, and scream, inside i shy away hiding from the sound.
i listen to what i think you should have said.
to what my mind says is right.
i curl up, my arms holding myself tight.
my head filled with a fight between me and myself.
you'll win, your voice is right.
i open my eyes, your face is still there.
though you are not, it still raises my hair.
i blink once and you are gone, a figment of my imagination.
a daydream gone wrong.
i turn back to what i was doing, ignoring my heart.
ignoring the guilt.
like i should have done from the start.
CagedBrilliant wings locked up tight
No longer able to take flight
Colorfull minds gone black and white
Sweet Sing of Your SecretsDarkness befalls beautiful gardens pray tell your secrets;
How your blossoms grow
Deep and rich is the reddest rose; the thorns give deadly blows
Petals of blood sing to me drawing me in
Grasp tightens sweet red covering my hands
The darkness not tells of its glory
I feel no pain
Fallen nothing but darkness, and my garden
Drawing me deeper in subconscious letting go
My dear garden pray tell your secrets
How your blossoms grow
Flowers DelacasyGlass wings catch wind
playing with light
swiftly gliding through the air
drifting down to a rose
beware the thorns
Beauty Fallssurrounding pain in shadows
a dark lady falls quietly into the shadows; the folds of her gown cascading in waterfalls of velvet...
rivers of black trail down her porcelain face;
her mascara betray her emotions
no escape...endless sorrow and remorse
long stemmed rose at hand... beauty in simplest form
even beauty betray;
devilish thorns prick white gloved hands...
red anger seeping to the surface..
unseen in darkness... shadows fall...
MockingbirdSilenced cries trapped inside
Pressed against pale lips now bind
Peer through unseeing eyes
To the trauma that lay behind
Shattered mirrors reflect no past
Memories too good to last
Weak struggles to survive
Falls to the mockingbirds lullaby
UnbreakableMy internal genocide,led to the suicide of all the pain deep inside
it cant play dead anymore,against all my odds i have defied the death of my emotion
reborn into this world with the gift of pure sight,no more shadowed images screaming through me in the night
standing,but never alone,i see clearly now what i have always known,this is my legacy
it will be anarchy,but in a controlled burn,i will stand back,go against the stream,and watch the world turn
I get what i put out in return for freedom,a mission not so impossible
as i slide in between breaks in my glass,its unbreakable,im shatterproof,i was built to last
darkness becomes light,im all fight and no flight,i will take the risk,im not starving myself ive just chosen to fast
i will abstain from consuming the the pain that used to write the rules to my game
my actions now plot my course into what was a void,no longer a vacuum,its an explosion
of new paths for me to walk that the universe has chosen,i will not fade away,listen to its
The Prince of MarsOn the bare mattress, he trembles;
praying for his white knight to come back.
Devoured by the very thing he consumes,
his disposition now mimics the windows he's painted black.
No sunlight does he ever permit,
for it invokes the mischievous shadows that challenges his fight.
All reflections he forbids,
for fear of the stranger that triggers his fright.
The insatiable hunger makes him devoid of deference,
and he's willing to sell everything he owns.
All this for the few hours of heaven,
that can be bought with precious stones.
Borrowed WordsI have often read the sparking souls of rare, bold men.
They have fed me pointed words
running red with blood
and thunder, staining
everything I've said, everything
I have. Often read the sparking souls of dead old men,
their flaming, spitting thoughts.
When your tightened lungs are stirred
fill your throat with coughing birds,
put your thought into an overwrought mouth as
I have, often. Read the sparking souls of dead old men,
the trolls in their cluttered dens
surrounded by the scrimshaw bones
of ravished brides, of wasted wives.
Soapbox words scrawled across the same bodies
I have often bled the hearkening souls of. Dead old men
have led the red, hungry eyes
of Rottweiler boys
for years as they tramped through
foyers,foam dressing their blackened lips.
We have often fed the snarling souls of dead, cold men,
gone to bed with hot coal men
with lead in their veins.
Their words are a well
the world knows too well.
Too often have I read the sparking souls of red-coal me
Pure and DirtyMet a girl, told me she was pure -
Filled with hate,
for people she called dirty,
stained by past mistakes or joys.
Told her sex makes us
neither good nor bad,
that you should live not
for the misery of others,
but to be happy with yourself.
Poetry Session: If I were to be Human...
If I were to be human My happiness would last,
Never having to think about my hideous past.
I would smile and have tons of joy in my life,
but this world is filled with sadness and people have to thrive.
If I were to be human I would always be with friends,
Probably even trying to make new mends.
Then again I am just scum covered in sin,
I deserve to be alone in the end.
If I were to be human I'd have a meaningless life,
Drinking, having sex and partying all night.
I know right from wrong and that is a fact.
I know God wouldn't want me living like that.
But I am not Human and I know that is true.
You may be with the world but I am nothing like you.
You say I am alone the world, that no one watches my back.
Well I have Friend
Cat PillarsOne morning the people of the crowded city noticed an arched pillar standing fourteen feet over the sand on the beach of theirs. It was discovered after the fruity night sky vanished and the seven different church bells one of them sprayed half black began to rang. The people and above all of them the Indian people were very curious. On the top of the pillar a cat was sitting, staring out into the wild and wise sea. A form for lunar module? A spacecraft the Indians said. At first. The second day another pillar had rose beside the other, but on top of this the peculiar cat stood and licked it paws.
Fear was not driven into their spiritual but still corporate city ways of living individual and responsible lives.
When they on day three woke up to the third and tallest pillar yet, where the cat was standing on the back of its feet and rose up to the sky people began to take pictures.
The fourth and last cat pillar came two days after number 3 and it was the lowest. The cat on the top was s
True GentlenessGentleness is not weakness.
It is not frailty.
It is not false humility,
Or saving face.
Gentleness is Strength!
It is virtue of speech and manner.
When careless lies and curses scatter
It stands like stone; rooted in its foundations.
Gentleness is Boldness!
It is not blind followings or idle tradition.
To be the stability of one’s beliefs
It is firmly set with experience and ardor.
Gentleness is Robust!
It is the ferocity of forgiveness.
When the world plots and whispers,
It breaks the bonds of vengeance.
Gentleness is Resolute!
It is the cornerstone of understanding
To embrace of what is unknown.
It is a willingness to learn, accept, and respect.
Gentleness is not a ‘woman’s‘ virtue.
It is not feebleness of mind or body
To be lauded over for unseemly stillness.
It is not a lack of force or incompetence.
Gentleness shames the mean.
Gentleness disdains the vulgar.
Gentleness disarms the unjust.
With the authority of simple truths and
Night Sight SeeingYelling through a crowd
that you hate your parents
act like a deterrence
To the people clean
Writing things like me
Am I right in thinking
That this compulsive drinking
Wraps your mind
And straps you tight
To all of this
Is the light still flickering
In your eyes
As you pass out
Preceded by violent blinking?
Yeah I guess you're cool
Rolling around in
what you ate at school
I'm sure you'll feel it
When you check your pocket
And realize your about
£100 down you fool!
Is it money well spent?
I bet the girls think you're
A real gent
But do they care what you're like outside
Or just your generosity
Right here at the event?
They don't even know your name
All too familiar with your game
I've watched a few like you
Believe me, you all end up
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More