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Trail and Error MentorThe way I trip myself up is fanatical,
No way to figure it out, no mathematical-
Too natural for that, no-
I’m just that type of person,
Runnin’ at the edge of a blade into a hearse and-
It should be fiction, now an addiction,
My depiction’s in need of some fixin’,
I was scramblin’ around and tryin’,
To find someone who’s worth relyin’,
And straighten me back into alignment,
I was about to throw the towel in,
At first I was that piece,
Of the puzzle,
That could never fit in,
A disaster - please,
Spare me the metaphors,
I could never fit in with force,
All I need is that little nudge,
To ease the hinderance,
And make a difference,
So hear me roar,
I’m half-way to being less naive than I was before.
Oh, Mr Wise Head On Young Shoulders,
Please tell me what I’m doin’ wrong,
Correct me as I go along,
Mr Wise Head On Young Shoulders,
Be my trial and error mentor,
Lift me up so I’ll be mo
GhostPlease tell me it was just a dream,
A tasteless nightmare I can’t get outta my head,
Retrace the steps where we’ve all been,
That no one remembers and everyone seems to forget.
I can see you now,
With that impish smile and an,
Attitude so bright it could blind the sun,
My only question is how,
When your eyes gaze into mine,
That I’m reminded how you had fallen from everyone.
But when I open my eyes,
It’s no f*cking surprise,
That you’re no longer here with me,
I can still see those scars,
When you reached up for the stars,
That dragged you in then spat you out for everyone to see.
How can I hear those footsteps every night that are never there?
A day right now is worth dirt compared with just a second by your side,
Rushin’ around and striking my nerves, I’ve lost the colour in my life,
Racin’ around my hollowed head are memories of you caught in time,
You were mine...
Never lettin’ you leave my mind.
All those people become stranger
Everything Is Washed AwayMy shoes shift against the drenched pavement, and the rainwater ripples, distorting the surface as I take heavy steps.
The rain pounds down with no mercy, like a machine gun; as the winds violently howl down these deserted streets. The roaring gales send the rainwater out of the gutters to cascade down the road, leaving nothing dry in its wake.
A hood conceals my face. Hides my sunken cheeks and callous eyes from the grim weather, and from anyone else who may cross my path. I am sheathed in dark bulky clothing from head to toe, unfortunately, the dense rainfall in the eye of a storm finds sly ways to soak even the most protected areas of skin.
My head remains down, and my sight never wanders beyond the horizon. My hands still are stiff by my side, still in clenched fists. Nevertheless, I have fragile bones and a frail heart, and my grip could give just as easily. I roll up my sleeves and inspect my hands with hesitation, quivering as I can still distinctively see the smothered bloodsta
Meant To BeHow do I communicate, by day, then night, then day?
I ramble countless un-necessities to myself,
With no one on the other line...
No one’s ever on the other line...
Maybe that’s just how it was meant to be.
How do I spend all my remaining days that all blur into one?
I stare out the window for no real reason, like a lifeless soul,
But there’s nothing to see that I haven’t seen before...
Nothing to ever spark sensation...
But maybe that’s just how it was meant to be.
I’m not one for thrills,
But monotony kills,
And the shadows begin to lurk closer,
Nothing feels real,
No motive, no appeal,
And I can’t help but feel that I have lost all purpose.
How do I treat myself, by day, then night, then day?
I can starve myself until I it burns through me just to speak,
And I somehow deserve all this pain I create...
There’s nothing in my life that I feel worthy of...
But hey, maybe that’s just how it was meant to be.
How do I pass the time, if
Diamond In The RoughThe whole land,
Surrendered to shadows,
From the east,
But I’ll talk myself,
In the path of the beast.
The shine from the glare,
Of his omniscient eyes,
The crawlers watch from down below,
As they shudder with fright.
The complexion of his ivory skin,
No smile with teeth to bare,
He might not make any sound,
But we know we’re not needed there.
Wherever he walks he leaves a trail of mystery,
It just whispers to seduce, it wants to be uncovered,
He stands tall like a haunted soul lifeless from history,
But the vibe of vulnerability is not a good one to discover.
The bottom of the food-chain,
Getting scarce and rotting tough,
It might be too much to ask for,
If you’re the diamond in the rough.
Permanent scars, piercing steel,
Would make anyone look away,
No emotion, no regrets,
Nothing more to pay,
I stood wearily in the opposing path,
Something that’s never been done,
He gazed down at me with beady eyes,
As his silhouette eclipsed the sun.
Golden ChildIt was a fine afternoon on a Friday,
Kids pack their bags and run away,
Teachers rolled their eyes,
And waved them goodbye,
Hoping them to be safe and sound through the holidays,
I’ve heard I’m very observant,
I don’t play little games and fake it as a servant,
But others are more gullible,
To do naive things or get into trouble,
To leave the nest unattended and fly away.
Stranger danger’s den,
He’s at the corner again,
Wearing off paint,
Empty luggage space,
Dark and mysterious,
Shades cover his interior,
Children look away,
Like they do every day,
Freckles with golden hair and candy smile,
He sits and waits for his mother for a while,
But his face is draining out all luck,
99th level and frozen stuck,
His mind leaps on other ideas on how to get outta this place,
The man winds down his window,
Gestures the boy towards him to make it so,
‘Hey son, you look like you need a ride,
The door’s unlocked so you can climb inside’,
Happiest Guy In The WorldNo, this isn't insecurity,
But I'm the best method actor you'll ever see,
My smile may be bright and officially acclaimed,
But if I sat down and opened up, well, you'll never look at me the same,
If I had the choice I'd always stay in bed,
Thinking of how I changed, how the wires became frayed in my head,
My obscure mask hides my doubts and fears,
But you've all known me as a bubbly fun individual for years:
The happiest guy in the world.
My worries tower over me, this structure I cannot climb,
The darkness clouds my energetic eyes and malfunctions my mind.
Depression hangs over me like a melancholic storm,
Emotions get me swept away and I fall back down to where I've struggled once before,
I guess subconsciously I don't want everyone else to sink down with me,
Because I get mistaken for an enthusiastic and flawless human being.
This disguise I have may be deceiving but helps us all,
It hides away my impatient cracks and heart-felt scars to get the impression I'm standing tall,
The DemonI heard my door creak open, and a shadowy figure silently lurked inside.
He was outlandish, inhuman, and bore eyes of flaming red.
The room lost all proportion, all sense of certainty and touch,
He was warping the room in some way that is beyond any understanding.
I saw the eery smoke wisp from his hands, and the fire in his eyes glared
not from my own.
Although nothing was tangible around me and my consciousness was in another world,
I could sense him.
I could feel him.
As if I could reach my arm over and burn my fingers to ash, as the scorching pain shoots up my fragile limbs and crashes into my brain like a tidal wave.
Here was here for one reason only,
To shed my resting blood that is to cool on the desolate walls.
To shove me off my mortal coil and trace off into nothingness.
To gain some satisfaction.
To perform his duties.
To get what he came for.
I can feel the moment drawing in and my stomach boils and churns.
I am struck and blinded by fear like a deer in the headlights.
The Definition Of PerfectionYou often hear a lot of people mentioning the word ‘perfect’.
In commercials: ‘...this stylish piece of equipment will be perfect for your home.’
In reviews: ‘...the actor in the critically acclaimed movie played a perfect role.’
In general conversation: ‘...my party next week has to be absolutely perfect.’
But, honestly, in contexts like this and more, the word is so overrated, it’s almost lost its meaning.
The naive have used the word ‘perfect’ to such an extent that advertisers have watered down its significance for profit.
They create a ‘flawless’ atmosphere for the product, sucking in as many buyers as they can.
Consumers seem to be blissfully unaware that manufacturers intentionally create items that dysfunction in a short period of time so they have no choice but to drain their spendings into the companies to buy another one...
an identical item that may cease to operate even earlier than the last, and
Darling, Don't You DareTo the girl who skips dinner,
Because her reflection hurts more than
To the boy who wears sweatshirts
On hot summer days,
Because he doesn’t want his mother to cry over his
To the boy who weeps uncontrollably
Until he falls asleep,
Because it’s the only way to escape into his
To the girl who spends her days in her bedroom,
Because the dark is more peaceful than her
To the child who gets angry,
Because no one understands.
To the teens who self-harm,
To the ones in recovery,
To the ones that just can’t do it anymore…
For the girl who skips meals
And the boy who wears sweatshirts,
For the boy who cries,
The girl who hides,
And the ones who just can’t do it anymore.
You’ve come this far.
Don’t you dare give up on it, now.
I am the daughter of a sailor.There is pure sea water
rushing through my veins
& my vocabulary can be
just as colorful.
how do I begin to tell you
we all have jungles growing
in our chests?-
by human hands?
I like to pretend
it’s Draco residing
in this chest of mine-
clogging my lungs,
I have forgotten
how to write
or anything with a shred
I have no space left within myself
for celestial, fire breathing dragons-
because I realize now
when I look in the mirror,
I do not see my father.
I screamMy scream is loud.
My scream is honest.
My scream is desperate.
My scream is filled with truth.
Why would nobody hear me?
You're Not DepressedDepression isn’t what you think it is.
You’re just sad.
If you and your boyfriend or girlfriend just broke up, you’re not depressed.
If you are longing to be with that one girl or boy, you’re not depressed.
If you really want to meet that one celebrity, you’re not depressed.
If you haven’t gotten a text from any of your friends all day and want to talk to someone, you’re not depressed.
If you cried in the shower last night because you want that guy to be your boyfriend,
Or sat on your bed last night with your face in your hands wanting to be with that one girl,
You’re not depressed.
Until you have hated yourself,
Felt no self-worth,
Felt like you’d never amount to anything
And are useless,
You want to lie in bed all day and do nothing but think,
Think you are never good enough for anyone,
Don’t deserve anyone,
Lost any interest in drawing, writing, reading, singing, etc…
You don’t want to be around anyone, just by
dearly belovedthese days
your name has been slipping
in and out of my rib cage
my heart forgets to beat.
how even after all these months i still
don't want to believe that
you're dead. how during the
first couple of weeks i prayed
to a god i didn't believe in and begged to know
if death tasted sweet to you. how once,
when the monsters in my head
didn't let me sleep, i
wrote you three poems and then
you were a supernova that
lit up my life for
a few radiant moments before,
like all good things in this
you came to an end.
the sinner in me hopes that you have wings now.
but i think that,
most of all,
i hope you no longer
remember what pain
Let me dieGo away
Leave me alone
And let me die
Of this world
I don't want to live
Because there's no light
At the end of this tunnel
So I'll just end my life
Don't try to stop me
And we'll meet again
On the other side
Outside this dark tunnel
I am afraid of monsters like you.Bones and sinew cling
to the part of me
that is not human,
the part of me that
Your lips are ready
to pounce mine when
you lace my neck with
the collar of hope.
It hangs too tightly.
Only GirlsOnly Girls can suffer from weight loss,
can cut and cut until their blood is all gone.
Only girls can cry out their angry emotions,
and watch them pool from their eyes like the raging oceans.
Emotions are qualities reserved for women women only,
without them, what men would bask in their glory.
Only women can abort an unwanted fetus,
when a man mourns his lost child, he's nothing but a bigoted sexist.
Only girls can wear their hair long,
put on cake loads of make up, and twirl their hips to a song.
Strip down in public to your bra and underwear,
only girls will get angry when their objectified by eyes everywhere.
Only girls can swallow the pills,
because boys are never depressed, they only grow ill.
Only a woman can claw at her defenseless husband,
and when he tries to defend himself, he's considered little to nothing.
Cry 'sexual-harassment' in the midst of your workplace,
only girls can get away with this, when nothing was done to them in the first place.
Abuse is impossible if it ha
Wrists.Wrists are not made,
To be cut up by cold blades.
Blood was meant to stay in your veins,
Not to be drained.
From your body,
You're stronger than that,
I know a person can only take,
Until they break.
And you have your doubts,
And when you lay in bed,
The pain is all you think about.
But you're so much more,
Than your heart aches.
So much more,
Than your demons.
Even if you feel,
Like your dying,
And you are through with trying,
Because all you've been doing lately is crying.
I want you to know,
That no, you're not alone.
And you re going to survive.
Please just drop your knife,
Because you're going to,
Make it out alive.
StitchesAt first it was an admiration,
Like a frail moth hovering near a balcony light,
But things soon twisted into something more sinister,
The moth now writhes on the ground after setting itself alight,
and it smiles...
I fell in love with every single part of you,
And I knew it was absurd,
But the obsession took a hold of me,
Where the line between two realities becomes distorted and blurred.
I wanted to be like you, act like you,
And breathe from your precious lungs,
I tried to mould our two identities,
And twist them into one.
Idols and inspirations,
The living gods on Earth,
A dangerous obsession,
It creeps up and takes possession,
Of everything inside of me that should be suppressed and never shown.
You’re the essence of perfection to me,
Or at least the nearest thing like it you can possibly get,
I know we’ve had our vicious fights and tears where shed,
But how can I stay mad at you forever....?
...I mean, you haven’t even met me yet.
I know my reflection
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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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