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I'm just a girlI'm just a girl
With ruffled hair
And sore eyes
I'm just a girl
Who likes to write
And can't draw
I'm just a girl
With childish fantasies
And faded dreams
I'm just a girl
With cold hands
And a warm heart
That no one can see.
The girl with the rope colored hairThere once was a girl
With rope colored hair
Which she kept in a loose bun
So she could dream without distraction
She chewed cinnamon gum
On her way home from school
Only on Mondays and Fridays
For ten dimes a pack
She sat alone in the front during math
Where she wrote furiously
About her life beyond life
And drowned out the lessons lies
When people asked her
About her feelings and fears
She'd whisper "i'm fine"
And walk away
Her eyes homed storms
That raged when she screamed
And softened when she cried
They had silver trimming
While she walks home on the cold
Her rope colored hair flies in her face
And as it begins to sprinkle
She smiles at the sky
And feels the angels tears
Dear Simon, Can You Hear Me?Dear Simon,
How have you been? I wish you were still here. I miss you dearly, we all do. Mama, papa, and little Lily. She wakes up crying every night, more than usual. Mama tries to calm her down but she keeps crying and crying. Her cries have been getting louder every month since you left. I bet she thinks that if she cries louder, you will be able to hear her. That you will worry and come home. Mama sent me to my room when I asked you why you left. Why?! I'm six, I can learn now! When I flung myself on my bed, I could hear mama's sobs and moans coming from downstairs. Why was she crying? Was it because she looked at your old journals? Your clothes and tools? The next day when I asked her again, she told me that you left because cancer took you away. I don't know who cancer is but I promised you will escape from its grasps, I promised.
Until I told daddy this. He said that you can't return from brain cancer. Brain, what a funny first name. Though, daddy says th
S t a r.Deep into the night
A silent star
Glowing with beauty
Its brothers and sisters
Dancing around it
Its mother, the sun
Bursting radiant light
Its father, the moon
Shadowed and cold
The star rages
Flies across the sky in a fury
Leaving a fire trail behind it
nothing at allto her, he was her everything
her light at the end of a tunnel
and he looked so splendid
in whatever he wore
the way he styled his hair made her swoon
and she knew it was meant to be
but to him, she didn't exist
she lived on the other side of the tv screen
her face was the sky
her smile, the sun
and when he looked at her he saw horizon
from then on that's all she was
p i e c e si. melted snow doesn't stick to the pavement
so he left when he had the chance
with another woman around his waist
and a one-story home with a fireplace
ii. spring flowers wilt in the cold
so i stayed the months inside
my feet grew chilled, and my eyelids heavy
as i wished the schooldays away
iii. school-bells ring once on the mid day of june
so they ran as quickly as they could
i spent my days buried in smiles
all plastic and full of lies
iv. autumn leaves only fall when dead
so she lifted herself up to stand
my heart began to rebuild itself slowly
and a soft voice begged me to stay
v. faded memories spread themselves far
so i spent the seasons alone
summer and winter, autumn and spring
and they're always the same thing.
a half-remembered dreami.
i was invited to her home
where she served me peppermint tea
and veggie pizza
"my pleasure" she sang
the market was blue and green
painted in her dreams
she danced from stall to stall
carefully paying the right amount
she glided and sang
and swept the sorrow away with a smile
her angelic wings were colored gold
from a run-in with God
we were covered in flowers and stars
she pointed at a bear, and i showed her a cub
bells echoed from our throats
as the night sky bid us farewell
the sun radiated sorrow
as my thumb hugged hers
"goodbye" they whispered
the stone felt rough
under my protected feet
i turned to see her dance off, her hair waving at me
i waved back
my home was empty
except for a sense of dread
and that was when i saw her
we sang and hugged thumbs
"hello" they whispered
H u mShe listens to music at 2am
Droning on and on
As the radio plays her favorite song
And she wants to get up and dance
But her parents slumber on
So she lays in bed quietly
And composes the songs with her feet
Humming with her mouth clamped shut
For she is obsessed with the songs
That pour her heart out for her
Please, Don'tPlease, don't
You don't realize
What will happen if you do
You speak to thousands
But you listen to no one else
Cut that wrist again
What pain you cause me
You scream for help
But you do not accept it
Don't make me
Build you your coffin
I don't want to paint you
With my misery tears
Don't do it
Life has so much more
To offer you
Just give it time
And times a bitch
But happiness will come
And trust me, it's worth the wait
Panic AttackI don't know
It just hurts
Kill the monsters inside of me
Don't let them grow
Please, you're my only hope
I cant help but to yell
I'm out of my damn mind
What's that smell?
Smell my skin burning, I'm in hell
Oh what to believe, what to believe
You or this self-destroying symphony
God, save me
I'm just a fucking mistake
I cant go any further
I'm drowning in a salty lake
What is it like to be sane
To be at peace, in control
to feel no pain
I try to break free but the voices pull me back
I struggle and scream
But my self-worth are their snacks
MaskHave you ever worn a mask for so long
That you're afraid to take it off,
And breathe in the purity
Of the unfiltered world outside?
Would your lungs be able to take it?
Or burst trying?
Have you ever worn a mask for so long
That you're afraid to take it off
Because no one might recognize you?
Would you recognize yourself?
Have you ever worn a mask for so long
That you're afraid to take it off,
Because you don't know anymore
If there's anything underneath?
Hard TimesI see you’ve been weeping for some time now
You’re all torn out and cold
Even if all you see is darkness
You’re the bit of light that’s shining
And I know you don’t have control
But you can't just let go
Because if one day you do, you might lose yourself
Then I’ll be left alone, with no one to hold.
queen of nothing.what I've learned:
I still remember singing in my room when I was six, and having my mother come down the hall and slam the door so hard that the windows shook.
Her nails hurt when she scraped the tears off my face. "It doesn't matter what you want," she'd always tell me.
Like, when that drunk driver swerved and hit her car I didn't want her to leave me, and it didn't matter.
Once on vacation I bought a pair of fuzzy leather heels for two hundred dollars, and when I wore them to dinner, I found out that
1. "Suede" is a fancy word for "fuzzy leather."
And 2. Good things don't last: That night my cousin told me that she thought 135 pounds was a little too big for five foot eight. So I tore my tights up to the thigh and threw those new suede heels in the garbage.
It felt good later, to know that they couldn't hate me more than I hate myself.
My six-word story from ninth grade reads, "If I don't laugh, I'll cry."
When I read that treating people like trash to gets them to nee
Hope (I Won't)I won't let a razor blade
Take away this life I've made.
I won't let the shame and guilt
Ruin everything I've built.
I won't let being wrong
Stop me from being strong.
I won't let sorrow and pain
Resurrect the demons that I've slain.
I won't let ugly spite
Tell me that I'm not right.
I won't let the dark past
Make my endless hurt last.
I won't let this noose
Leave me hanging loose.
I won't let the world win;
My life is only just about to begin.
MaybeJust give me one dream that isn't see-through.
One substantiated claim to reality,
that I might hold onto life with.
Every quivering cell, mid-osmosis, begs you
for a shred of dignity with my tea.
Just one chance for something heavy,
something hard and room temperature. Real.
I don't want to look through my day dreams
and see someone else's face there.
I don't want to dream of those people
who may make, or break me, in the future tense.
I am tired of milky white and reflective black.
It is time for a life of colour and hope -
and not looking back to see if the past
matches up with the jigsaw map to the end game.
I want to be in the game, participating,
feeling, like I might make it there one day.
Just give me something, that I can hold onto;
something harder to see through than a whisper
of that voice in the back of my mind that says
Why I Hate My LifeWhy I Hate My Life:
Despite the fact that I'm a trained professional
I have to work odd-jobs making deliveries on a motorcycle
The only girl who I ever loved
was just using me as a replacement
The only girl that actually likes me
runs a bar and took over my house
I don't have the guts to kick her out
so I end up sleeping at an abandoned church
I've recently picked up a strange rash
it hurts and I have to wear sleeves to cover it
My only friends are a guy that never comes out from a forest
and a girl that's always looking to steal the meager possessions I have
Everything sucks really
because the one person who cared about me
is already dead...
He was my army buddy, always cool, always the best
I visit his grave sometimes, in the middle of long deliveries
The worst part about everything though
is the fact that the one guy who made my life hell
The one guy who took everything important away from me
just came back to town a few minutes ago...
And you know what he said the moment
Why Poets DrinkChrist,
there is a reason poets drink.
Abstention feels bad -
infertile and stuffed, swollen.
It does not sell books
or win those brass
angels on ribbons.
Tonight my lover is bourbon,
distilled in some soul
south of Carolina.
It plays tricks with colors
and the sounds on my tongue.
It grows words where
none have loitered for weeks
and handfasts me to
the rest of the world.
It is ransom -
a jest of seasons
and my bone idle brain
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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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