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Angel Wings and Guitar StringsA face I love is missing.
A voice I love is still.
A place is vacant in my heart that no one will ever fill.
Many things have happened.
Many things have changed, but how much I love and miss you, will always stay the same.
Those we love don't go away, they walk beside us everyday.
Unseen, unheard, but always near.
Still loved, still missed, and still so dear.
Time may hide the sadness, like a smile that hides the tears.
But precious memories of you will never fade, despite the passing years.
A beautiful life came to a sudden end.
You died as you lived, everyones friend.
You were always thoughtful, loving and kind.
What precious memories you left behind.
You left me suddenly, thoughts unknown.
But you blessed me with memories I'm proud to own.
Wrong?Why can I do no right?
Why is it that i've lost this fight
Between dark and light, between day and night.
I've lost track of which is which, perhaps they have begun to switch,
Love is hate, hate is love
What once was pure now runs with blood.
Snakes writhe in the place of the dove,
God is laid to rest
As the Devil rises above.
AddictionA shot to kill the pain.
A pill to drain the shame.
A drink to forget your name.
A purge to stop the gain.
A cut to break the vein.
Anything to numb the brain.
An addiction's, an addiction,
It all hurts the same
Dear TherapistYou stare at me, pity overflowing from your eyes
But you don't even know what will be my demise
You do your best, but you'll never understand
I'm broken beyond repair, you can't hold my hand
You can't guide me through this shattered life
The only help I have is the knife
DamnI love him
But he doesn't love me
Nothing like a Shakespearian tragedy
No award winning play in which to spout my angst
No, I don't measure up in the ranks
No glamour or glitter, save the whistles and bells
I'm just a girl, who kissed a boy, who's in love with someone else
Angel WingsA face I love is missing
A voice I love is still
A place is vacant in my heart that no one will ever fill
Many things have happened
Many things have changed
But how much I love and miss you will always stay the same
Those we love don't fade away, they walk beside us everyday
But always near
And still so dear
Time may hide the sadness like a smile that hides the tears
But precious memories of you will never fade
Despite the passing years
A beautiful life came to a sudden end
You died as you lived, everyone's friend
You were always thoughtful, loving, and kind
What special memories you left behind
You left me suddenly, thoughts unknown
But you gave me memories i'm proud to own
FallenA girl sits all alone
Wings folded on her back
She sits upon a thunder cloud
The night time sky is black
The girl cries an angel's tears
That fall to ground below
And become rain upon a barren field
Where plants no longer grow
The girl looks up to heavens peak
And waves her last goodbye
With broken wings she falls to earth
She knows she cannot fly
Rantings of a LunaticWanted: Prince Charming, must be able to slay dragons, and fight the monsters under my bed and in my heart.
I don't know what the point of anything is anymore. We die to live, we live to die. I don't understand. Maybe ignorance is bliss, the more you think the more depressed, sad and destroyed it makes you. At this moment i'm suffocating. In my own blood. Held by monsters, unable to escape. The past is a rather vile thing is it not? This will never work out. Everything ends the same. I guess i'm insane. The definition? "Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result". Always. Over and over, rinse and repeat. I wish someone could rescue me from my own thoughts right now. They never understand; I don't need protection from you, I just need protection from myself. Protection from the knife I hold in my hand. Is it really the monsters holding me back? I guess logically this could just be considered a state of mind.
I am a MouseI am a mouse.
I am quiet, I am nothing.
I am a book that nobody has read.
I am an eclipsed sun and a cloaked moon.
I am irrelevant and unwanted, a broken toy in an attic.
I am the dust in your rear-view mirror that you leave behind.
I am the air that you breathe in and spit out as something different.
I am the palest white. I am the darkest black. I am the dullest, emptiest grey.
I am the old man with forgotten memories and the baby who has yet to make them.
I am a forgotten word, dangling on the tip of your tongue, hanging on the noose of your lips.
I am a dried up stream. I am a felled forest. I am an abandoned cornucopia of resolute nothingness.
And there is Hell burning in my eyes.
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
A void within meAlone on this inhospitable night, once again
I let my memories guide my lost steps,
Wandering amid the ghosts of my past.
As I walk along the quay,
I stare at the feeble Seine flowing:
She's dying by the street lamps' hands
While the whole city asphyxiates.
Reflecting my own lack of humanity
Over the river's lighted surface,
Griefs come and go at the water's rhythm.
Once again, on this breathtaking night,
My feelings are sealed and my chest hollow.
Purple rain, chills of cold.... Or regret? I crave
My musical drug, my remaining salvation,
Spreading a sweet poison within me and
Eroding the remaining happiness I still have.
I plug my headphones...
A grin of relief appears on my weary face,
I flee to lenient lands, where a familiar Angel tucks me in.
These notes of violin split the immutable silence,
Fill the hole in, lit a bonfire to my soul.
This mermaid sings my dreams to me,
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
you talk like a travestyoh, mercury boy, you can't
write your way out of this
body or out of this mind;
you can pray like it's high-fashion,
insist you're only burning yourself out
(but tell me - do you feel like a god yet?)
if only for murky mirrors &
silver cicadas caught
in your ribcage, you've
got a knack for decaying
The PointIt’s the taste of cake mix on the spoon, that first time you ‘help’ bake a cake.
It’s seeing the bright world afresh after a dark nightmare, when you first wake.
It’s when you make them laugh and, in that moment, everyone loves a clown.
It’s when your heart stops before the roller coaster plummets down, down.
It’s when the lights go out before your favourite band plays and you scream.
It’s that moment you look around and everything’s perfect enough to be a dream.
It’s the anticipation of waiting for a new episode of your favourite television show.
It’s the first time you listen to your favourite record and you just sort of know.
It’s reading a book cover-to-cover and a million times more and still crying at the ending.
It’s the stiff, tight, real feeling of a smiling scab as you watch the wound mending.
It’s when you first meet your best friend and you hate each other (but in a good way).
california wintersthe tears
I rationed have all
run out. Tuesday comes
up behind me and steals
my breath; my cat snores.
she can’t sleep soundly
since she lost her seventh
life. I’m like that, I’m always
worried someone will try to steal
what I’ve already given away.
I miss color. newsprint sobs
washed me out. I am a
blank canvas, I am a faceless,
I am one
of you. I wake up sweating
and it’s winter and I can’t
sleep because my memories
follow me between my sheets;
jake still won’t listen.
we never knew we were the
lucky ones, we scarred, too. don’t
touch me. don’t want
me, don’t bare my bones
when you think I’m not
watching. I’m afraid of
myself. breathing loud
enough that others know
I exist; you follow me,
needing, laughing, it’s
a game. who has lost
the most, we all want
to win; I’m so tired, so scared,
there’s no one in the world
who sees me. I can’t cry.
we’re in a drought.
Dear GodDear God,
Would you extend your holy hand to save a wretch like me? Would you bow your graceful head for someone who wants to believe? Would you bat an eye if I lay my life at your feet? Or are the hallowed halls of your domain only for the elite? Would you light up the sky if I asked for a sign? Can you spare any love for someone of my kind? I'm done with this life, praying it gets better after. I crave to trade in my tears for laughter. It's a lot to ask, in fact I don't know how I dared...but honestly, I'm just scared. I'm one of the many, who never prayed till I fell. I've never believed in heaven, but I know I'm going to hell.
Love, a depressed athiest
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
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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