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Sweet LilacDecember 25th
As I stroll through the gates, the chilly winter air stirs around my scarf and hair. How is it where you are? I suppose it isn't quite as cold. I have to double up on the layers, wearing a sweatshirt underneath my winter coat. It still has yet to snow here, though. I remember when we used to play in the snow. You loved throwing snowballs at my head until mom yelled at you.
The leaves still float down from the trees, as though they continue to hang on for dear life. How sweet it seems now. I used to watch you rake the leaves from the kitchen window, remember? I would be in the warm house, preparing hot cocoa for you when you finished. You like yours with lots of whipped cream and marshmallows, and even some cinnamon. I get mine like that now. I like to pretend I’m still sharing it with you.
The few stems of lilac in my hand quiver with the breeze. Mom told me they stand for joy of youth. I figured that would be per
Sinking Beneath the WavesIf I could sink beneath the waves
I perhaps would be rather content
For you see, the ships that sail above
Know nothing of the ocean itself
The deep blue waters are peaceful and relaxed
As the sailors and surfers would say
But I can sink beneath the waves
I know there is another story to tell
The foamy whitecaps that swirl above
They tell but another myth
That the ocean itself is just as what it seems to be
All water and no depth
But the blue sea cannot be clear
Or else the secrets would fall through
If you learn to sink beneath the waves
You’d know just how beautiful it is.
Inside, and out.
Lies.What are words to you
Nonsense scrawled across a page
A space filler of sorts
The hiding place for lies
Lies that you will not dare stain your tongue with.
Memories recorded down
Fingers stained in ink
The words you said
The promises you made
The lies you told
All of these locked deep within my heart
And in my brain I keep them
For they hide the bitter truth I dared not reach for
Though I could see it
The stains on my own fingers show not me
They show what you wanted me to be
Show what I tried to become
And what I could not master.
But these red stains will change
Will become what I am
And your own marks already show
They show the bitter truth of the false face you show
Of the tales you tell
Of the claims to innocence
And I will try and muster all of my courage
Just to prove my worth.
Little MockingbirdOh little mockingbird,
Please be strong
The other birds
They know the words
But won't sing along
Oh little mockingbird,
You haven't failed yet
Crow and dove
They fly above
There's no need to fret
Oh little mockingbird,
The skies are still blue
Though the eagle cries
The heron lies
And they laugh at you
Oh little mockingbird,
Your wings may be small
But you are bold
And you won't fall
So oh little mockingbird,
Please stay strong
The other birds
They know the words
So sing your sweet song
Shrouded by the shadows
A wispy veil enchanted with secrets
Hide my insecurities
It hides the fact
That my wingspan is too short
To reach my dreams
Icy black chills down my spine
The fears that have been creeping
Still out of sight.
HopeHope is nothing but a dream
Spun with silken stars under the twilight sky
Hope is nothing but fantasy
Sewn piece by piece of the fabrics of myth
Hope is nothing but lies
A blanket of falsehood
Only used for the sake
Of keeping our cold hearts
I, Too, Have a StoryI, too, can make stories
I can scribble them down
On loose sheets of notebook paper
My pencil in my hand
And I can form the words
Like a puzzle in my head
And piece them one by one
On the blank canvas in front of me
Not only for myself, but for readers
Readers all across the world
Pages turning and smiles forming
Inspiring those who read
Inspiring them to write
Just as I
They will understand what it means
To get your thoughts out to the world
I, too, have a story
Stunning SilverStunning silver stripes your skin
Red rivers flow and flee
The bitter tears taint you cheeks
As sorrowful sadness consumes your soul
Depressed thoughts deepen your doubts
Pleads and promises are in the past
Love, like lies, never last
CHIME Chapter 1CHIME
Lafayette has had enough. She sits on her bed with her knees pulled up to her chest. She rests both her arms on her knees, and buries her face into them. She has been sitting like this for half an hour.
She lifts her head and looks in the mirror. She sees her pale, freckled face, stained with tears. Her long, jet black hair is tangled in a mess. The sleeves of her shirt are wet from her crying.
She wonders why it has to be like this. Why does she always feel so empty and sad inside? Why does everything have to go wrong? Why can’t she live a regular, peaceful, and happy life?
It all frustrates her. From her fighting parents, to being neglected and left alone by her friends, she can’t seem to find a shard of happiness left inside her fragile heart.
The teenage girl's eyes are weary from crying. Her throat aches and she coughs, only making
My mind deals with
Overcomes my judgement
Today it's no different
I can't take it anymore
Observing my image but
Nothing is revealed
I Saw a Burning ManIn front of my house, he sat.
Skin burnt off, now charred and black.
Hesitantly, I walked outside.
And he followed me with his watery eyes.
With steps as nimble as the snow,
I hid my fear and continued to go.
Now before him, the Burning Man.
I kindly offered him my shaky hand.
No malice nor vice leaked off of him,
rather sadness and agony which simmered below his skin.
I could feel it around me, the pain and despair,
yet, physically the man was nearly repaired.
For his scorched skin was not his problem,
instead the bottled emotions that devoured all of him.
“Would you like to come inside sir, and stay?”
In which he replied by looking away.
Again I asked, and received no reply,
and was startled when the man began to cry.
Unsure of what to do, I walked away,
Yet I’ll never forget what happened that day.
Be it from pain, or mute, or undisclosed desires,
I watched as the man was engulfed in fire.
I stood back in awe, with my mouth agape,
and feared that he had fallen into
little victories.when i was younger,
i thought i was the strongest
little girl in the world
because i could easily
beat my older brother
at arm wrestling.
it wasn't until years later
that i realized
To the person who holds my best friend's heart...I know that is is kind of weird
But I felt that I should write this down.
I need to tell you what I feel
And tell you what he means to me.
He's my best friend and he's a good man.
Please, give him the love and respect he deserves.
He may seem goofy but he's very sweet.
I know this because he was always there for me when I was sad.
Now, I know that you're not bad
Cause he would never choose someone who's mean.
But I still want to tell you just in case you forget in the future;
Please don't break his heart.
He's been through so much
And he doesn't deserve something like that.
He is the kind of person who smiles even when he's hurt by others
And would take any pain for the people he loves.
I know, I've witnessed it.
I know he may seem kind of childish sometimes
But don't let it get to you.
It's just his way of expressing himself.
He's very caring and I'm sure he'll do anything to make you happy.
He doesn't look like it but he's very kind and thoughtful.
He'll put your needs before h
in which I gain sentiencesave room
for doubt, in the silence between
religious guilt and stolen
body heat. I am made of helium.
in my dreams they
pop me and
watch me flutter. I wonder if everyone
else’s head is so congested as mine,
hyperactive with inattentive people.
you are never serious--
he stares at me in a different
set of eyes; there are words
I cannot say, there are
things I cannot tell you.
(twice a week
I watch the people I love
leave me for good.
spiders in my throat,
And There Was Lighti.
He was seventeen when he died.
I never went to the funeral
but I walked past it the day of
the service. His mother
was in the backseat of a blue Dodge,
door open, head in her hands.
"My baby," she kept repeating.
"My baby." It would go from sobbing, to
screaming, to a soft whisper that
I could only hear being carried
on the wind.
It was a Wednesday afternoon that they found
his old red pickup truck parked
out front of Slim's, two beer bottles in
the back and the windows cracked to let the stale
I heard that his dad told the police he was
gonna take that old truck and fix it up, because
he had promised his son before—
because it's always in the before—
And in the after, his mother never had dry eyes
and I'm pretty sure my mom told me
that she saw his dad at the bar every night,
drinking his sorrows down because some people can't
handle the stress.
Some people can't figure out why their son would
"Some men just want to w
Can you look deeper?You see that girl you just bullied?
The one you harassed over her choice of art?
The art of a man beating a woman to death?
She saw her father kill her mother when she was five.
You know that man who likes to photograph himself in dresses?
The one you called a homo because of his choice of clothing?
Well, his parents wanted him to be a girl instead of a boy.
So they made him dress like that everyday to pretend he was a girl.
You know that woman who writes stories about child rape?
The one you bullied until she didn’t know how to cope with life anymore
Her uncle has been in jail for the past eleven years.
He raped her daily for seven years of her life.
What about that guy who favored abstract artwork?
Do you remember him he liked to use the colors red and black a lot.
He was nearly beaten to death when he was fourteen.
He only knows nightmares because he remembers seeing his blood on the wall.
What about me? Do you remember me? Even just a teensy little bit?
You bullied me because
The Sounds Are ConfiningDarkness fills the space.
The fog pours in.
She feels like a waste.
Impossible to win.
A stab in the back.
A blow to the pride.
A soul painted black.
And nowhere to hide.
Happiness is torn.
Her heart is pounding.
Her patience is worn.
The sounds are confining.
She's feeling trapped.
Her eyes are shining.
Her heart is snapped.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More