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Sorrowful soulwhen I smile,I'll make it believable,
so you'll have no reason to ask me "why so glum"?
I'll laugh so loud, for it to overshadow the cry,
inside my voice,so you'll have no reason to hold me.
I'll push you so far away that you'll think,
that I'm so overcrowded, when really I'm dying from
Loneliness,so you'll have no reason to care.
And even when I fall apart compleltely,
I keep pretending just because you'll have,
No reason at all.
Lost our memories.Sometimes I see her in my dreams, she stands and stares out to the ocean.
Sometimes I wanna touch her and say I'll take the pain away, but she's too far away. I can see the scars appear one by one on her wrist as the blood ooze out from her skin. There's so much suffering I can see, her eyes have changed it's too melancholy. Whenever I get too close, I can try to touch her skin, but my finger just goes through her ghost. She says 'I'm forgotten'.
Writer's blockI have writer's block.
How do I solve this matter ?
what do I write about?
What do I feel?
Paint no imagination.
Suppression of the soul.
They all tease me.
Surely someone has to find meaning in my worthless words.
Why do I write?
And it's because I need to.
I never know or understand the hurricane of pain
twirling inside of me.
So after my pen bleeds the ink to the flesh of paper
maybe I can create some clarity.
AstrayTick tock.Tick tock.
I'm twisting the hands of time.
I'll unscribble the black ink splatters
on the charcoal papers.
I'll unfreeze gravity,
unpaint permanent pictures in the skies.
Walk across the oceans.
Interchanging the sun with the moon,
and burn this planet alive.
The travel of light slower
than the way we crawl
on our backs.
Undo these mistakes.
Take them back.
Change who used I used to be.
Change it for me.
Sentence the memories to
obliteration memories before
stepping three steps
the negative blends,
the black and white.
The reverse of sound a mirror's reflection.
A reflection of the light,
when left becomes right
A solemn goodbye.
Freed from my own existence.
Where is my mindHomicide spilled in her blood.
A kiss like murder.
Hate gazing in your eyes could,
set fire the Everglades and seven seas.
A hot head,
Ice in your veins steaming the sin of
a distorted soul.
Let me introduce you to your nightmares.
sinking genocide in your rum,
You have a collapse and there's nothing there
but your lies and cigarettes.
Forever is TemporaryWould you please hold my hand
Let me know you're there.
Lie to comfort me and say you care.
Damaged nerve inside my brain.
I'm in pain.
Take these bandages and cease this disease.
Break me into little pieces.
I'll cut you like glass,
and turn away.
Somewhere in your burrowed lies,
I'll pay you back.
Home brokenDear father,
I swear I can't inhale the pain today.
You can just leave your lies at home,
because after all doesn't charity start
You know father, the rum on your tongue won't make us
go away, so why do it anyway?
I can see the struggle you put on mother's
I've seen the bruises and the scars.
I've seen the spilled blood and the feeble being on the hospital's bed.
I've heard the cursing screams and the pleading cries.
All at a young age.
But I've grown and you've grown.
To the point where we are not the same, not even
So you can ignore and push my family a
One night standYour lips are ice
but if you felt
what I felt
You won't stare at me
with empty eyes
We'd fall in love
maybe only for one night.
No slumber in rapid
Even the sheets between
would feel like a threat
Clinging and tossing
and barely breathing
and hands holding on for
for heaven's sake.
Sick heartIf I have a heart attack
tell the doctors
it may have
been the aspirins
it eases the pain
If there's a body
when you get there
tell them it may have
the bullet playing
hide n' seek
in my brain
If I fall to my
tell them I was
trying to fly
but my wings got clipped
If my neck broke
on the noose
tell them I wanted
to make a flower with rope
If the waters filled
tell them I was discovering
the deep blue
Going through the motion
Like a ghost
to Dissolve away
That first special touch of lips
What should have been perfect,
Can't change, rewind,
Or go back in time.
Can only move on,
Try to forget, a bit...
The memory of her.
The thought of her sharp words,
She broke his heart.
Makes him promises.
That she will be different.
And do her best,
To piece him back together
The memory of meA month ago you were begging me not to die
Now all the words you said then are a lie
You said that you loved me
And you wanted me to be happy
So i lived because you asked me to
I lived because of you
Then weeks later you hurt me more
Throwing my dreams to the floor
I wonder now if you'd care
That crimson blood stains my hair
My wrist are cut
My screaming mouth is now shut
My hands are pulling at my hair
Wishing that someone would care
Tears are streaming down my face
As im fadding from this place
Your the last thing i see
Because you hold the memory of me
You know my story and my past
Its up to you to make it last
But you have already chose to forget
The moment we ever met
You already chose
To let the memory of me
Be something that no one will see
Because you no longer care
About the memory of me
ReturningMy heart ain't exactly broken
I deserve everything I get
I've lost what I been fighting for
but it ain't over yet
I'll always wear my bloody scars
And show you how it's done
The war I fight is never over
But this battle has been won
My smile has always been a shield
And it's never let me down
I won't say I surrender
My soul ain't gonna drown
I might not be the best guy around
But I'll give you a run for your money
I'd like to see you walk a day in my shoes
Then we'll see who's running
A Silent Exclamation Mark"They're arguing again," Said the boy, "My parents always argue. If their relationship was punctuation, then theirs would be an Exclamation Mark. I'm quite sure of it."
The girl, who was sitting on the garden wall beside him, giggled, "How can you compare love to grammar...? The two things are very different."
"Not to grammarians!" pointed out the boy, "No, it can. You see, my mum and dad are always arguing but never seriously and at the end they always kiss and laugh about it. Go on, think on it, what would your parents be?"
The girl's smile slid like a tear from her face, "My parents would be a question mark," she murmured softly, "Ever since my mum got ill my dad doesn't seem to love her anymore..."
The frosty breeze blew. No one spoke.
"I'm sorry," whispered the boy at last, sobriety weighing down heavily on his otherwise youthful words.
"Don't be," she replied with a plastered on grin, "I li
LoveIt's the song on the radio that reminds you of what you had and what you lost.
It's the smile that a baby gives when she is genuinely happy.
It's the sound of a laugh from someone who hasn't laughed in a long, long time.
It's the friend who still remembers you even if you call after fifteen years.
It's the last piece of chocolate saved for you in a box you thought was empty.
It's the gift that is exactly what you needed, when you needed it.
It's the two hour ride across town, just so she can see you before she leaves.
It's the dog who waits for you to come home, just to give you all the affection in the world.
It's the companionship one feels in silence when they have found their best friend.
It's the feeling of a warm blanket someone put on you after you fell asleep.
It's the boy who does the stupidest things in the world, just to see you laugh.
It's the girl who kisses you the way she has never ever kissed anyone before.
It's the woman who gives up her seat on the train to the old la
I'm the pathetic friend?Do not think of me
As the pathetic friend,
As the worthless one -
Without a happy end.
Don't you dare belittle me.
Today, I have had enough;
I snapped and I shot back
To show you I've had it tough.
Do you think you are better?
Better and smarter than us all?
Wait, as I'm coming for you,
We'll see who takes the fall.
LoveWhy do we feel it?
Were we meant to hurt?
Love can be the thing that lights you path,
But it can be the one that makes you feel closest to the darkness.
Is it worth it? Do you really want to feel it, Aching In your heart,
Longing to be filled, that void that a person fills, Why do we feel it?
Does it have a purpose? Sometimes I find the truth, but it always buries itself,
It is ever eluding. Like a cure that we are so close to finding but is just out of reach.
Will I ever love again, Without the fear of that darkness sweeping over my heart.
I ask you because im struggling to find the answer, Please guide me, Show me the way
Complicated"You know, personally speaking, I don't think you're really unwell at all."
"I'm sorry, are you the one who is sick or am I?"
"There is nothing wrong with you."
"Can you say that again?"
"I said, you aren't sick!"
"Whatever. The receptionist is calling me in, anyway."
"You're a hypochondriac."
"What?! Listen you-"
"Look, just go inside. I'm sure the doctor will say the same thing."
"So. What did the doctor say?"
"That it's complicated."
"Yeah. They need to run more tests and figure it out."
"You sound skeptical."
"You told him that you only get 'sick' in history class."
"And about how your heart races and your hands shake."
"And about how you can't sleep at night and you can't concentrate."
"Yes, yes, all of that, I told him everything I told you."
"Did you also happen to mention the boy who sits in front of you in that class?"
"What's that got to do with it?"
"Tell me something. Have you noticed
I had a heartMy headphones are in,
the world goes out.
I let the wind pass,
and I close my eyes,
to shut out the pain.
Sing for the rain,
and when my sight is bright,again,
I Breathe in new air.
In a stare,
A far away glare,
I see him.
I see him standing there.
In the palm of his hands lies,
the parts of my broken heart.
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More