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HopeWhat would you do,
When it's all over?
Would you stand up,
Straight as mountains old,
And shrug your shoulders?
It might be;
Your final end.
But would it be worse,
If you had waited?
How could you have known,
This was it?
Would you have just stood,
Back like rivers bold,
And watched it's demise?
Like pariah zealots above,
Gazing down from,
Black flower skies?
Why should you,
Have thought to reconsider?
Would you have just given up,
And let minute things,
Slip by and slide away?
Was it to be your own idiocy?
Or breath of ignorance,
Destroying the fragile dark,
From the mighty light;
This very day?
What was it that made you,
Stay here to breathe?
Was it that inky niggle in,
The chaos of your mind,
And that instinct within,
To just carry on and cope?
Most would declare that,
You are an angel,
But some say without
Courage: there is only hope.
The Girl In A TeardropThere sits a shattered girl,
Imprisoned in her tormented tears,
Wishing she had not wasted her youthful years,
Looking for her one true pearl,
Who never showed his flawless face.
There weeps a sad girl,
Reflecting her mask in the mirror,
Seeing her self becoming thinner and thinner,
And now she sees the echoes of her age,
Guiding her back from her heartbroken mind.
There breathes a sorrowful girl,
Staring out of her sweet nectar sobs,
Hoping to escape from her self-infliction,
But what is out there for her to find?
Except a dawn of despair and dereliction.
Two Sides to Every StoryCan't believe you're not here. | Can't you see I'm still here?
I thought you were my fear. | Being silent is my fear.
Now I just want you back. | I'll always have your back.
I have to keep this on track. | I will keep it on track.
I'm sorry that I hurt you. | I'm sorry that I hurt you.
I'm not sure what to do. | I wonder what you'll do.
A slight buzz is what I feel. | My thoughts you barely feel.
I wonder if you're real. | I promise that I'm real.
I'll never forget the pain. | I'm sorry for all the pain.
You drove me so insane. | You're not really insane.
What if it happens again? | It will never happen again.
How can I call you my friend? | You are my closest friend.
I just want to be happy. | I want you to be happy.
Can I still be me? | Can you accept me?
The jigsaw boyThe girl sits on the dusty floor,
Surrounded by odds and ends.
Holding the jigsaw boy, trying to put him together again.
He fell from a very great height,
She sobs for him every night.
None of the pieces fit.
He looks up at her with empty eyes,
The colour of faded blue skies.
His skin is covered in scars and cracks,
Maps that lead her to nowhere
Round and round in circles, like a merry go round.
His soul is scattered around her like glass,
She cuts herself trying to pick the pieces up.
She tries to be distant, she tries to be kind
But in her heart she knows she broke this boy
That lies in pieces at her feet.
She crushed his heart in the palm of her hand
And now she doesn’t know what to do.
She knows that she doesn’t have much time,
Before he falls over this ledge.
He builds these walls between them,
That she will have to climb.
Life has lost its colour and time has lost its grace.
Where his heart was is now an empty space,
Pain consumes his soul.
gravityWhen I was a little girl in red rubber boots
I believed I would change the world
My mother blamed my grandma
who read to me every night in a rick-rockety chair of princesses and dragons, stars and magic
My father blamed my imagination
& too much television for a little girl who lived in the weeds and oak branches
They told me that no matter how high I stood off the ground
all things eventually fall back to where they belong
Gravity is the reason we are alive, they said
we are all made of the earth' s crumblings
"But what if I am made of clouds?"
& they laughed in the whimsical tone as parents love
Prove me wrong, they told me, exchanging glances
& I tumbled boulders down my shoulders, and floated an inch up to tommorrow
from your mirror.. with loveStand at me
Glare at me
Your hair at me.
your eyes like
daggers and spears.
I'm not cruel
Dumb, Fat and UglyWhen I was a young boy Asperger's did its trick
They thought I was smart when I was really sick
Tried to be a scientist while the kids played ball
Called it archeology when what I really did was fall
Add bullying and violence and there go the screws
You can't see it on the skin but you can hear the bruise
When my words gets slowed and sped, chopped and screwed
Sounds like the music from America's southern hoods
Got nowhere to go and no one to be with
So I'll play video games while brushing my teeth
One eye on the villain, another on the time that goes by
All of the brain thinking about cool ways to die
I heard my first rock song and somebody explains
Everything written on the idea train
My emotions are defined, my ideas are clear
Some sort of combination of hate and anger and fear
I loved my first girl and since then I'm trippy
I was on top of the world just because she could see me
I'm not sure if this is the exact definition of reject
But no girl ever agreed to go a single night out
Letter To a StrangerYou do not recognize my name
Nor am I in knowledge of yours
Though we have never met before
I feel the need to speak with you
To tell you stories of my life
And you provide me with the same
But before we start a friendship
I wish to ask you a few things
Thus, your undivided focus
Is what I need from you right now
Can you pay fervant attention
To every word that passes my lips?
In years past, I have met people
Who love surface phenomena
And fail to dive deeper than that
Refuse to connect ideas
Will you hear the depths of my verse
And perceive me for who I am?
And many of these same people
Have done nothing to assist me
With any hardship I have faced
Have not been there to support me
Do you keep an eye out for friends
To have their backs in trying times?
When there arrives a dire moment
That requires a frank dialogue
And an unfettered honesty
Without any hesitation
Would you call out my behaviour
When it is less than savory?
All these things I ask in my search
For a deep, genuine friends
Demons in the shadows
They'll find a way
To get you.
Beatings, swallowing you.
Scars, defining you.
You know you're weak.
You can't fight a bully
When the bully's inside of you.
Stereotypes~ A poemJust because I'm Blonde,
Doesn't mean I'm dumb,
Just because I'm angry,
Doesn't mean I believe in Islam
Just because I'm Christian,
Doesn't mean I will preach,
Just because I'm Asian,
Doesn't mean I will teach
Just because I'm Jewish,
Doesn't mean that I'm greedy,
Just because I'm *black,
Doesn't mean I am needy
Just because I'm human,
Doesn't make me bad,
Just because your different,
Doesn't make me sad
*I am so terribly sorry for using that word! I know it can be offensive, and I promise that I wasn't trying to be offensive with it! I really wanted to put African-American, but unfortunately I felt that would too long! I'm so sorry!
Author's Note: I'm sorry for anybody who gets offended by this poem! I really don't want to offend anybody! So I'm really sorry if anybody does get offended.
Twelve Moments In The Dead Of Summer1. The sunlight glistens on her wet skin as she's walking towards the beach. He has never seen anything so beautiful in his life and even if the words seem to dry up in his throat, he knows what he is going to do next.
2. It hasn't rained for months now so it only takes a small spark from the cigarette to set the undergrowth on fire. On the first sign of fire they panic and run, never to look back but to remember years later, in nightmares, the crazy old man who lived in the shack nearby and was never seen since.
3. They lay together on the grass, watching the sun slowly go down behind the treeline. He takes her hand, old, wrinkled and frail into his, and whispers: "I would give up everything I have for one more summer like this". She responds: "Darling, you already did that years ago". They burst into giggles, just like the one he was supposed to take her dancing for the first time and got lost on the way, and it seems that all these years haven't changed anything at all.
4. The thorn
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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