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One of those nightsIt's one of those nights were my eyes won't close,
were tears keep dripping down my nose.
It's one of those nights were everything's wrong but I can't explain why,
When the light burns out all I'm left to do is cry.
It's one of those nights were I panic at the slightest sound,
Were under the air I feel like I'm drowned.
It's one of those nights were I can't seem to breathe,
Were I choke and I heave, I just want to leave.
It's one of those nights were I can't stop thinking,
I'm slowly falling, I'm drowning, I'm sinking.
It's one of those nights were there are no lights in the sky,
Were I feel grounded when I just want to fly.
It's one of those nights were everything comes back,
All the dark thoughts that shroud your mind in black.
It's one of those nights were I'm too scared to dream,
For once it's ends, I'll wake up, and scream.
The fame gameShy and quiet, is what you are,
Yet is see you dreaming to be a star.
Basking under that radiant spotlight,
Smiling as your lips gently dust the mic.
I see you glow as your passion flares,
You melt all fears, you have no cares.
But tell me now as your growing strong,
Never missing a note in each and every song.
Was it really necessary to change your name,
Will it really gain you fame?
They told you that your own wasn't cool or acquit
But your stage name doesn't really seem to fit.
The wig and make up are a good gimmick
But for you I don't really think your with it
I'll admit I'm happy for you,
But as far as personalities go I think you have two.
The fame monster seems to be growing inside
You can run but you can't hide.
And the fact that your acting like you're hot shit
You're getting there, but you're not quite it.
Watch this space.
To late I've seen enough.
Can't be savedBound by pain, torn inside
Worrying feelings are coming alive.
A storm is forming inside my heart
I can't breathe, I'm falling apart.
"Come help me" I scream as I fall from the sky
You reach out to catch me, then wave goodbye.
I can hear your laughter ringing in my ears
I can hear the demons whispering my fears.
I try to call out, in a desperate plea
But I know you can't save me.
I want to go back, to change it all
It's all to late I've started to fall.
I never even said farewell,
As I fall to the gates of hell.
I cursed myself, for that is true
There's so much more I wish you knew.
The song of the Magpie One for sorrow, two for joy.
What once was joyful, is now just sorrow.
The bitter taste of today, is stale for tomorrow.
A heavy drowse of a now distant past,
Faded memories, of passings so fast.
Three for a girl, four for a boy.
There once was a girl who fell in love,
Who had a heart as pure as a soaring dove.
She met a boy with a heart of gold,
Hard, metallic and awfully cold.
Five for silver, six for gold.
She was promised silver, diamonds and stones,
Yet all she received was brass, ash and bones.
She found the gold, in the best of others.
Giving love and strength to her sisters and brothers.
Seven for a secret never to be told.
Lies were formed and secrets kept
Serpents whispered while she slept.
She let nothing bother her, had struggles a few.
Though legend says for joy, you must see two.
The kissIt starts off slow, with a light brush of my face
Pulling me close in a warm embrace
Your hands on my waist as you pull me on top
Up on your lap is were I hop
I look deep into your shining eyes
As both your hands caress my thighs
I lean forward and you lean in
And this is were the kiss begins
Soft and gentle as you find your pace
My little heart starts to race
A fiery passion starts to grow
And there's no signs of this beginning to slow
Kissing harder now, discovering your lips
With your hands resting on my hips
Stopping only for the need of air
I run my fingers through your hair
No more scars that I have to bare
They fade away as if never there
I began to writeI began to write a verse filled with spite, filled with anger and utter betrayal.
I began to write how I was truly hurt and all the wrongs that had been done to me.
I began to write to protest on everything you had done, to shame you, to blame you.
But as I began to write I seen that nothing worked, that I had filled the page with a vile and hateful verse.
I had seen that what I had began to write was the beginning of a fight, a beginning of a war that would only hurt both sides.
So instead if fighting fire with fire, I extinguished the flame, and made a white flag for my soul.
I took a step back from my fiery attack.
And I began to write this.
Take a walk with me.To the end we shall go, were ever it may be,
Take me down the path less travelled, walk me through the sea.
The broken glass of crackled hearts, were bare feet may tread,
Along side the river of the dammed, the water coloured red.
Hollow bones and bullet holes litter the sandy plain,
Dried blood is the mark that only death may reign.
Yet here we stand in fire and smoke,
Drowning in it's gentle choke.
and off I'll sail.
To a valley of eternal bliss.
My WingsMoving on to better things, I'm so happy I found my wings
No need for tears, no sinking fears.
A burning passion comes in roaring fashion.
A smile I bear, free without a care.
No broken hearts, or scaring marks.
I'm moving on to better things, no more rocks upon my wings.
Teacher's pet peeve.You loathe me, you really do,
I know my presence just bothers you.
Those evil glares and little digs,
All those things to make you big.
You can poke and you can prod,
Then preach your words about your god.
You can act the little saint,
But that's something you just ain't.
You can pretend that I'm not there,
And then act like you treat us fair.
Questions of a wider scope,
Get a "no further questions" and a bible quote.
Crow like demeanour you wallow in pride,
No pity you offer, as you throw the carcass aside.
That burning hatred of me, you truly despise,
That roaring fire in your eyes.
Now tell me Miss, as it's clear to see,
Why do you really hate me?
You Were My SunshineThere, in a too clean room and in a too white bed, lied a young girl. She had very pretty brown hair and very tired brown eyes that she tried to keep open despite everything. In one hand in was a much smaller hand, in the other hand was a piece of folded paper.
Gasping, she tightened her hand, not for a second loosening her grip on the slim fingers in her palm. Sliding her right hand to her left, the young girl deposited the yellowing page in, letting the second hand clench around it. Exchanging the paper from the first hand to the second, the owner of the hand- the young girl's friend- unfolded it gently. Written on the faded slip was a collection of words:
"Hello, my darling, my sweet.
May I please twist you a tale?
Do not worry, it shall be neat;
I can promise you that, at least.
Before I get started,
Let me ask you one thing.
Oh, my darling, my dear, my sweet;
Have you seen the invisible rain?
I know you have painted with
The colors of the wind.
That you have weaved your quilts
Full CircleThe End. The two most powerful words in a writer's arsenal...
But what do they really mean?
It concludes things, it wraps them up, it sums up the entirety of your words. When it all comes tumbling down in an exuberant crescendo of tumultuous recompense...
But it also indicates when the story is over. When the expected actually happens, and things continue on in their natural order... Whatever that order may be is up to the reader. Left to dream, in a nexus, full of dying carbon stars...
That doesn't mean nothing ever happens after that point, it simply means there are no more interesting things to tell those who are viewing the unchained shaded events. Everything after that will be normal, and boring and expected and blah and perchance even blaze'. Business as usual. Nothing more and no less.
What can you do to spice it up? Nothing... Short of writing an entire sequel, that is.
Maybe it was time things came full circle.
And one more thing... I have found the
QuestionsWho am I? A question I ask myself each night before I go to sleep. Am I who I want to be? I know that I am loyal. I know that I am obedient. But am I doing what is right for me? Or am I making a mistake? The questions are endless, rubbing on my mind like sand in a sandstorm. Do I make my friends happy? Are they glad that they are my friend? What about those that are closer? Are they happy with who I am? I know the answer to that question. Some, my family, don't know who I am. I hide in my room from them and don't let them see who I really am. I fear how they would react. I fear that they will stop talking to me, though I already do that by my hiding.
But then more questions come to mind. How will I deal with them not knowing? Am I happy that they don't know? Should I tell them and just live with the consequences? The endless questions keep weighing me down. One day I will drown in them, but till then, I'll keep swimming for the surface. Hoping that one day,
Trash that Paints the Water's SurfaceYou will want to buy the new iPhone.
You will be very excited about the new iPhone. You will discuss the various pros and cons of buying the new iPhone with your friends as you play mini-golf one night, and you will all decide it’s probably not worth it.
You will still be ready to soar down the suburban roads to your local mall. You will have your old phone in your pocket, a veritable antique now that something shinier has come out. You will soar down those suburban roads, tires screeching on hot pavement as you wheel around other drivers, desperate to get there quicker. You will be annoyed that those drivers dare to slow you down on such a day as this.
Meanwhile the phone that you will eventually use to sext your girlfriend is sitting in a cool plastic case in a storage room behind your local Apple store, after having been delivered the night before. And though you won’t think about it, the pristine gleaming metal of your new iPhone will bear fingerprints from acro
An Uninvited Guest"Death doesn’t matter. Life doesn’t matter. None of this means anything! We’re all just kings in some demented game of chess. Always playing the defensive, we are destined to lose. To lose our lives. The game was started with our side already missing pieces crucial to our success.
"We die. It’s our design. The meaning of life is really to have a well-timed death. Why pity the dead? Their time is over. It’s like regretting that you let it rain; what’s the point?! Death is inevitable, so why ear it? They have passed on, and considerable mourning is understood. But how much before it’s too much?
"This is the way nature works. A seed is planted; the tree grows. Eventually though, the tree will fall to make room for its children. There’s no knowing what their final moments were like. For all we know, they were at peace with themselves when they died. They might have found true enlightenment. How can you regret only half of a story?
TimeDoor is closed, Lights are off.
Yet no reason for scare, yet there you're.
Lifeless, breathing cold air.
Dead eyes, grey skin.
Life after is not or nor do we care.
Behind you shadow whispers, silence.
Ssh; the word behind you, going up your neck.
Don't run, nothing to fear.
Behind you, Door is closed, Lights are off.
Secularity drifting air particals.
No?, whispers stops, you turn around.
Darkness meets your eyes.
Nor is it North you facing the cold air.
Something bright meets your eyes.
Blinding yet soft.
Whispers behind you;
You turn around again, Nor is it South.
Warm air escapes you, white breath,
You hear a familiar voice.
You smile, yet a tear drop is foaming up.
Red shut eyes you open the door.
Darkness, With a little light source.
You ask yourself; is this the after?
Whisper in the corners, Silence in the dark.
A hand grabs you from behind.
You turn around.
Nor, is it something there.
You can't see what you brain can't understand.
The Void VastnessBeing near water has always made me feel at one with the universe. I can feel it deep in my bones, underneath my skin, on the tiny hair that cover my arms. The sense of quiet, when inner thoughts go silent and the sounds of the water fill the void within me that I never knew I had. The vibrations in the wind that distort any noise, inside and out, and make everything seem millions of light years away. The sight of the current of the waves that’s almost hypnotic in its beauty. The overwhelming desire to just lie down near the water and let lethargy take over forever.
To then be surrounded by water that brings with it none of its euphoric majesty, is the same as to be condemned to die wandering in a desert. To travel through the seas, and feel like having ones feet planted firmly on solid ground. To see nothing but unwavering mounds of only H20. To have water all around, yet not a drop to drink.
It’s a curse from the deepest depths of hell. Or a curse from the lips of furious
'Yes, Honey, I Love You.'(A/N) WARNING!!~ Super depressing prose-poem ahead! Read at your own risk!
No noise ever escapes her mouth. But the shine in her eyes when she finds that little pocket watch in the grass near the pond is enough.
“Yes, honey, I love you.” The noise penetrates the stillness. Grinning, she closes the tarnished silver time-keeper and begins to plan, as only a mute seven-year-old can.
“Yes, honey, I love you.” Her mother shakes her head with a strange smile. Maybe, if the girl will talk when she gets older, the girl will sound like the woman's voice in her beloved pocket watch. Laughing, her mother hands her the vanilla ice cream cone.
Silence. All her father sees is the tarnished silver face-covering of the pocket watch. Sighing, her father admits defeat and decides to cuddle with her under some blankets in front of the fireplace. It was too cold to go outside, anyways.
ObsequiousA displaced persona
An awful fulcrum tipped & spilt into dissociative hell
.......being misplaced is a generosity
Some..where..place..one........so lost in pain & sadness......
.......and that black hole of realization........
.......gravitational pull(ed) in(out)side of yourself and who you were is......
But haunted....by a reflection on a meditation
And it was and is organic theft
Fetus into screaming infant into screaming victim..........eventually
Our first breath is a countdown begun....01.00.0000....on a timeline
This mere absence of misery feels like a vice
Some..one..place..where........ready to break me in some gruesome fashion as you secretly & silently break me(my) heart
This malignant ambivalence
I cannot make the egregious claim I love more than I hate
This is not my way......
Do it still but say......
I spit in your face and now I plead....
......please save me
My pores are sweating blood and I am lost in need
Corrupted by salvation
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More