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Glass half full...The blissful life of an optimist
The dreary life of a pessimist
Unfortunately end the same.
Burnt, buried, or eaten by bears
Rotting, destroyed as everyone stares
At ones procession.
We wander through life looking for answers
But lend me a moment of consideration sirs,
For what if you stop looking at the glass
Be it half empty or full
And look at it instead, by its contents.
For maybe, just maybe the liquid the glass presents
Don't look at meI don't see you around
I avoid you and your friends
they used to be mine
but then again so were you
I dodge your gaze
I keep your contact at bay
all to keep my feelings away
I don't want them,
I don't need them,
I don't want you at all.
And I don't need you.
We're not really friends
more like neighbors nowadays.
I can't handle us talking anyway.
Don't look at me, I won't look back
Don't wave, don't call
Don't speak, don't follow
I will walk but I will not talk
This boy's no good
I can't treat you
how you should
Don't look at this,
this fragile soul
I'll just shy away again
fade into obscurity
and watch you be happy
Gone...But not forgotten...Our toys get old and break
Clothes are worn and torn
Death takes from our lives
Though they are gone, they are not forgotten.
Friends come and go
Fashions race and eventually slow
Trends catch us then we say "no"
They may be gone and though we try
They are not forgotten.
Series start and end
Wounds open and begin to mend
Songs stop speaking their message to us
Though we feel them, they are gone
and often forgotten.
What's loved is always lost
Our attachment determines it's final cost
Only when we forget is something truly gone
If you love it, keep it close
If you've lost it, remember it always
Live like you're dying, love like you're losing
Time and time again.On my bed I am resting now.
Just alone with my thoughts,
A glance to the clock: 1:47.
My thoughts drift to your face
But why? Why do I think of you
When my feelings go unheard
By not just you but me?
Do you think of me? Do you miss me?
I think of you... time and time again.
I miss you, most when the sky is dark
And no one is around to hold.
I want you to be happy
I know you won't be, with me.
I beat this guy to the punch
But he has the last laugh
Our time was brief, I loved every second.
I loved you but to no avail.
I'll pull the plug and take what's left of me
With me into the unknown depths
I need to leave,
Let you live your life without me.
And only think of you, time... and time again.
Writers Block DefeatedPlease sit back and let me make you a rhyme,
It's sad and sweet but won't take much time.
This rhyme is short and meter it's cohort,
making me, early, resign.
I don't love myself, let's make this very clear.
So hard i find it to believe each year,
Those who reciprocate
Affection to a being I, myself, hate.
She came along and filled my life
But without her i knew only sadness and strife.
Relief comes in mornings
When for brief spells her face won't appear
When I don't know the mourning
Feelings of what I foolishly lost, their heads, rear.
The day I knew we couldn't be together
I hoped I could still stay locked away in your heart...
I will never regret trying because you were exactly
what I wanted
I'll be there...waiting at your door
Hoping one day fate has in store
For me a second chance...
To have our first dance, under the crying clouds...
My tale is now at an end, I went
Off and now my prose is spent.
Goodnight world, goodnight moon.
I hope to join you in the sky, looking
Untitled VIeach and every day
i meander through my life
seemingly in blissful ignorance
but the things i dont say
fill every moment with strife
and deprive myself of all significance
my life goes by while i sit and listen
to the problems others have in their lives
while under my skin
i'm screaming at the top of my lungs
but my cries go unnoticed
i'm done and i'm through
and i am finished with you
you all and your petty obsessions
i have them as well
and we all have to solve them
in this life that does not seem worth it
to the random few who see what i see
and can relate to being robbed of ones senses
to see the truths in this lie we call life
the truths of people and
their inability to deal with their pretenses
each grain of sand
falling from their hourglasses
their flailing arms
grabbing to bring down anyone
they feel will slow their decent
i cant please you all
so i will choose
a certain few, the chosen
they will lose
me, a small price for their transgressions
and continue with their
Full CircleAll of my life I've done things i have not been proud of
they are the reasons i treat myself so harshly
the reasons i don't deserve to be happy in this life time
these travesties done unto to the people I've cared about the most
make them one by one all slip away and leave me
in recent months my past has come to reap the fruit of my transgressions
my evils placed on the heads of my beloved...
the ones that i didnt appreciate until they were gone
if by taking my own life i can make things right
or by removing myself from the lives of all i care about
i can make things right i will...
i hate what i am, was, and will become
nothing good can be spawned from evil
so i will live on, alone, lonely because of my own foolishness
while i sit here, my heart, like a glacier
i watch it dissipate...i searched for love in this empty world
all i found was hate
to the ones that care, the ones that i haven't harmed
i'm sorry, for what i will do, what i will not give myself the chance to
i need to get aw
my bleeding ultamatumThere are times that others do things to get me going
Like when they pick fun at my friends or my sewing
I try to retain my composure but it seldom works out well
Im shaken in my cage as my rage rises and my veins swell
Ill tell you now that if you make my friends hurt
Ill assure you a ruined life and a home in the dirt
As I lie here and pant, its comes into focus
The reason that the unstable ones try to evoke us
And take from us the only things that give our lives meaning
For some its our own lives that are demeaning
And for as little as they are worth we still defend them
But for the little guy, the one with no self worth about him
Can still find a purpose to life if he makes something of it
If they just look for someone to protect and simply care for
No matter what happens to them and no matter what happened before
My bleeding oath is simply this
I dont care what happens, I wont miss
I dont care how far I wont stop
Until I manage to ma
emptinesswhat happens when the spirit dies,
and its body remains while its host cries?
we struggle through life against the lies...
at the end of the day our strife shows through sighs.
when does the line between being hurt
and being empty become distorted and burnt
out of our burning hatred and being thrown in the dirt
why does it all matter in the end?
is it the idea that we condescend
on fate and believe we can change it?
i'm done bleeding ignorance and
we're all going to die in the end
so whats the point of our stand
against what is coming and we cant stop
my life has promised happiness
and all its givin me is lonliness
we're all just souls on sale
and our buyers are waiting for us to fail
so they can laugh at our screams
and watch us fall apart
ground into dust,
while we bleed and lust
for a better time when we
didnt have to have to see
the world for what it really is...
cosmic lattesmall town diner jukebox
casts 90's pop songs on a loop
across creaking hardwood
and paisley-print cushions;
there's a mustard stain
on the waitress's checkerboard apron,
a run in her hose
and fingernail polish flaking like dandruff
into the burly corner booth truck driver's
scrambled egg whites and hash, hold the salt.
if this were wednesday, the perky brunette
would be disheveled, sobbing
into her on-again off-again's embroidered handkerchief
while your food waits, forgotten, in the window...
but it's thursday and they've made up
and his breath is only slightly tainted by his addictions.
instead, she flits a smirk at you
over the pages of the novel
you hope you're hiding well behind
and fills your cup to sloshing
free of charge.
when you add creamer,
it looks like the universe
opening to you.
lone wolf is wholesome
as his body is pressed,
pierced, and perforated.
rib cage curls like fingers
as crimson nail polish
paint the tips.
nailed to the wall like game,
sanguine saliva drips
from its snarling lips.
eyes shut tight
as its frame is contorted
like abstract art,
pen his heart in ink
or permanent marker.
knees skinned like a child
his body idle as the soul vibrates
while his inners regurgitate,
morbidity slivers down his legs
white fur stains read by death
as it plays necromancer.
the pack may not walk with you
but the moon hums with the owl orchestra.
your grey specks toying with ivory fur
kissed by red cartilage edges.
fade away as your puzzle
finally becomes wholesome
you feed raw meat to lions,
i feed raw me to liars-
the crowds line-in like
they’re ready to witness
me eat crow feet like i’m lyin’,
but these eyes are tired
of watching the vultures
masquerade as innocent crows
when the flock is called a murder.
and these crimes are unaccounted for
because we don’t realize what they’re killing
are the lion-hearted and eating the carcass,
leaving souls to float in the desert
while frames play bowls to a heartless dessert.
deserted bones tumbling like weeds
in the dead glass,
and lightning doesn’t strike
in the same place twice,
so don’t expect quartz here.
the law of living has no courts here
and karma is no judge
because there are no sentences
being placed on the objects
that subject you to the adjective of their
their words unnecessary,
excessive when the circle has begun.
wing disks spinning, dizzying,
dazzling, dying down
through dirt tolls
because we all have to pay
Writer's AuraWhat would you say if I told you that paper had an aura?
The interesting thing about it is that I’m telling half the truth.
Paper can only have an aura when it’s in someone’s hands
And being recited by the very person that wrote it.
The aura of the paper comes from the person, strengthening the sheet’s purpose.
Strengthening the person.
But how, you might ask?
How can a person give a flimsy object like paper an aura?
I have done so several times, so I shall tell you.
The people-those like me-that can do this are called Writers.
Every word-every letter-from a Writer’s hand that falls onto the paper…
It has its own life.
Losing one letter can make an entire story unravel.
Make a poem’s meaning drop.
Make a sheet of paper…meaningless.
And by extension, for that moment, the Writer’s life means nothing.
A small mistake, however, isn’t as large a mockery to us as a blank, white sheet of paper.
Both it and the Writer cry out, begging
AnswersI know I am the one that is trying to find answers to all these questions But I am scared
I do not know what the answer is going to be
Am I going to be sad, hurt, pissed, scared
I do not know
At this moment I just know that I am tired of wondering and want answers to my life
A StoryLovely features rest
In a crystalized tomb
Adorned in roaming ivy
Locked in silver moonlight
Approaches handsome figure
With weary leather boots
Having rode his way there
Searching for treasures to loot
Coming to the crossroads
The two strangers meet
One forever locked in
Curse's dreamless sleep
Figure draws near
Pearlescent glass gleams
Stretching out his hand
He sees the beauty skin-deep
Instead of acting as a story
A fairytale kept in time
The figure walks away
Deciding corpses should be kept
Out of the sunlight
+my mother always told me
to make good choices
and although she tried to teach me
i never learned the difference
between good choices and easy ones
and i think that’s why i’m still here,
because most days it’s harder to think about
what my mother would say at my funeral
than it is to keep breathing
ConquerFive years of not knowing what is wrong with me, doctor after doctors telling me basically there is nothing wrong with me, people thinking in its in my head
But I knew that there was something wrong with me
Finally someone listened and I thank god for that special woman
But somedays I just feel like I am gonna break
This pain I swear is the vilest feel like I am being stabbed
My memory goes out the window sometimes I can not remember anything even if my life depended on it
I can not concentrate on anything
Short tempered on everything
But I will conquer this day and this attack will pass till next time
NighttimeCool and quiet while the world around sleeps,
Trees quietly whisper, sweet nothings undone...
As creatures of day retire to their keeps
No one around save the occasional someone...
Street lamps shed light on places often traveled
But cast shadows on those tar'd, chipped, and graveled.
The docit tones of crickets sing
A melodious nocturne as birds
Tuck their heads beneath wing.
Dark hands choke the sky, hiding the moon.
I stare up and watch, hoping it will end soon.
I plead to be reunited with the moons pale embrace
To feel its comforting rays illuminating this dark space
Staring across dark water a feeling rises
Growing out of my mind, a brief thought of chrisis...
I jump, plunging into the dark abyss
The cold dark water wrapping its wet absess
'Round my entire form, no fighting will save
Me from my move to choose this watery grave.
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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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