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Death Doesn't Happen To YouYour death doesn't happen to you
No, you get peace for eternity
At the cost of a single cut
What you don't see,
Are all those people
Left standing at your funeral
Trying to figure out
How they'll be able
To live in a world
Without you in it.
Yet you have the audacity to think
You could take something as important
As your life away from us,
To put our hearts at stake
And throw your life away
Because you can't take
The struggle of living.
What you don't see
Is that your life isn't yours,
It belongs to me
It belongs our mom and our dad
Your growing number of friends
And that girl you wish you had
Your life never belonged to you
It is a gift that belongs
To those who care for you
And you think you have the right
To just throw that away
As if our love doesn't matter
That we could be cast astray,
Well i won't be
i love you too much for that
And whenever you try leave
I'll always bring you back
Because your death doesn't happen to you
It happens to me
To our mom and dad
Your growing number of
Your Poetry SucksYes, roses are red
And violets are blue
But you have to understand
Who said they had to,
Its about imagination
Emotion and orignality
Not the reiteration
Of dead men's practicality
They are your sentence
To a world that has to listen
As you create the difference
Whether it be
With angst poem against love
Or how you set your heart free
To fly like a dove,
For these words
Whether or not they be true
Their beauty and ideals
Will be used to define you,
Hope ,in fact, has feathers
And like a caged bird it sings
But these words will only be tethers
That strip you of your wings,
Those are their words
Meant for their time
And meant for their herds,
But this your time
Meant for your words
And whether they be meaningful, stupid
Or completely absurd
I'm sure they'll be amazing.
I Was Once Told My Heart BeatsI was once told my heart beats
But how can I be sure
When my soul feels so empty
No sound so pure
As the reverberation of life
Beating in my core
So should i believe them
I'm sure they've lied before,
They said you only die once
But I first died when I was four
When daddy snuck into my room
And treated me like a whore,
And they said crying helps
That it sets the pain free
And though i cried every night
The tears never helped me,
They even said wounds heal with age
And though I got older,
Every single day
My wounds only grew deeper,
But I still continued to believe them
Even as they lied to me again
Telling me I'd find someone
Who'd save me from my pain
Someone who'd love me
For who I am
Not what I am
And past what's happened to me
Though I've searched and hoped
Believing what I was told
I was never enough for anyone
And my heart grew cold.
I was once even told
My heart beats
But that seems too lovely to believe.
I'm Just A PoetI'm just a poet
Stringing together words
In a way that tries to force you to feel,
To understand what I feel.
I'm just a manipulator
Gaining recognition by
Warping what you understand
Trying to change your emotions
Till they fit my own.
I'm just an instigator
Using my words
To try and lead you along a path
That was created in anger
And fueling your passion to follow it
Until you can't even remember
Why you followed this way.
I'm just an interpreter
Translating your feelings into words
While ignoring the very fact
That in doing so
I'm ruining the very thing
That made these feelings so powerful
But I don't care
I'm just a recorder
Writing the pain of a person,
Of a entire nation
With a few measily words
While deluding myself
That this actually helps someone,
That writing the same pain
In a different way actually
Makes anything less painful.
Priding myself that my words
May one day move people
To change the world
When all they actually do
Is garner a few mo
Left Waiting"First the ring, yes the ring"
She knew mustn't forget it
Sliding it on her finger might sting
But she knew he'd love the sentiment,
"Then the pearls , yes the pearls"
Though they no longer glistened in the light
He'd still see they were as beautiful
As when he had bought them that night,
"Oh yes the bracelet, that will look nice"
She could hardly remember the jewelry he liked
But she needn't worry, mustn't worry
For she would see him tonight
"Oh what else, what else, what else can I wear
After all this time I'll finally see my dear
And I must look my most beautiful,
Perhaps there's something for my ears"
She thought looking at an empty jewelry box
Every expensive piece cloaking her body
As she walked out the door
Completely unaware she might seem gaudy,
But even if she knew,
She surely wouldn't care
This was for her beloved
The man who loved the jewelry she'd wear,
She walked quickly to the bar
Where they had planned to meet
Took the booth in which together
They had always used to eat
I Don't Want To Say I Love YouI don't want to say "I love you",
Because my words will make it real
Make my love for you actual
Palpable and ,worst of all, breakable.
My love would manifest itself
Like a sheet of glass between us
That you could shatter with
The slightest touch.
I don't want to say "I love you",
Because those words don't show
The truth to you
They don't show how important
You truly are to me
That I want to wake up every day
And fall asleep every night
With you by my side .
I don't want to say "I love you",
Because you might return
the same words to me.
And we would love together
Our hearts growing as one
But tragedy might strike
And you might be taken from me
Leaving me with half a heart
And no one say those three words to.
I don't want to say "I love you"
Because I do
I love you more than life itself
And that scares me.
But I'll say it
Because no matter how large my fears
Or small my worries
I want you to know
That "I love you".
A Dark Artist's HeartNow take me down to my dark and sombre place
So I can write woeful words such as this
But don’t leave me there to give life to my thoughts
As I’m cursed with such soft and slender wrists
And hands that are capable of mastering
The medicine bottles infant safe lock
No more than three a day the prescription says
I peel off the label and down the lot
Now take me down to my dark and sombre place
Where skies are as black as a raven’s wing
And with no potential to spread them out wide
With my meek, melancholic offerings
Just a pin prick of light in the sable sky
Like the raven’s eye within its feathers
And as it blinks moments before taking flight
I am cast into darkness forever
Now take me down to my dark and sombre place
Where each word I write feels like burning wax
Slowly dripping over my eyes, nose and lips
Till it sets into a full facial cast
Leading to paralysis of countenance
Or at least indeed the absence of one
The candelabra embellishes my plight
But this w
No SolaceMy Solace is no more,
My heart is broken and shattered,
My soul cannot feel no more,
As I lay here on the floor,
Blood flowing from my wounds,
So deep and so Neatly cut,
As my solace Ripped me apart,
Shattering my hope's and dream's,
So now my solace has crushed me so,
For now I feel nothing anymore,
So I shall lay here numb and in pain,
For i shall never be put together again,
For i have no Solace left in this world.
Story of a lying girlThat morning, the sun rose for the fourth time. The vastness of the unfamiliar forest weighted down on her aching shoulders. Back at day one, she discovered that every path looped back to an oak tree. It stood tall in the center of a clearing, much like a beacon of some kind. Still, she thought, if she ended up in this place, then there had to be some way out. It was simply a matter of uncovering the exit.
Attempt after attempt escape failed, and the girl found herself back at this tree once more. With a sigh she rested her back against it. The air tasted of a sleepless summer night; hopeless and warm. The feeling of being stuck in time. Abandonment. It was a feeling that stayed with her, rooted within her heart. You're on your own, is what she told herself these days. It'll be okay. Just gotta keep on going. There is no other way but ahead.
She looked up at the rosy sky. Solitude let to thinking, and thinking revealed old wounds that she knew would open again once she nu
DrowningHow wonderful it feels
To fall back
Into the hands
Of the water below.
Unlike everyone else
Water envelops you,
Makes you feel light,
The only direction
You’ve ever known.
Your hair moves around you like
Seaweed on the ocean floor.
Bubbles that once
Had a home inside your lungs
Escape freely into the water.
And climb up higher
To the safety of the surface.
“This is what is left
Of my existence.
Little bubbles floating up,
Higher and higher,
While I sink,
Lower and lower”
And as you feel
The last bubble,
The last of your air,
Flow out of your lips
You couldn’t help but smile.
Even as your lungs
Screamed in pain
You ignored it
Like you’ve done for years.
Even with the water
You still managed
But not in sadness,
For now you were leaving.
Leaving the pain.
Leaving the sadness.
Leaving the hurt.
Leaving the cruel words
That others w
Wasted Words.Wasted Words.
We wait for the last possible moment.
Even when confronting our opponents.
How we truly feel.
We hide behind our counterfeit expressions.
Conceal and contain our countless confessions.
Failing to announce,
What our mouths long to pronounce.
We purposely squander opportunities.
Maintaining our positions within our communities.
Avoiding any disclosure,
Reducing the risk of exposure.
We use humour to dilute what we actually say.
Because the truth does not have to be revealed today.
We know there always is a tomorrow,
So today has not got to be filled with sorrow.
We wait and wait.
Stall and prolong.
Until it’s too late
And the moment has gone.
There is never a convenient time.
For us to say what is really on our minds.
It takes the sight of a death bed.
She mattersShe unloaded her pistol and untied her noose
She dropped her razor blades, threw them away too
She wiped up the blood that she had on her skin
She lifted her head up, ready to start again
She descended her heart to me like an angel from above
After holding on to life, she finally found love
Something changed inside her and she decided to live
She had heart a full of joy and a lot of love to give
She wiped away her tears and held a smile on her face
Now she's happy here with me and we found a better place
She thought no one would miss her, they'd just leave her be
Now she knows that she matters, because she matters to me
EnigmaShe was the star
She had no heart
She had no blood
She was so cold
Her touch was deadly
Cause she was a devil
A demon with no soul
An angel with no love
She was a mystery to me
But I could feel her from within
She was my perfect saving pain
And my pouring endless rain
She was enigma
She was a myth
She was a legend
She was a dream
Unconscious Epiphany.Unconscious Epiphany.
I thrive and depend on your compliments
And it is only then as a direct consequence,
Am I truly able to write with confidence.
Even though your words are only temporary.
I deem your contribution as utterly necessary,
In order to refresh my wavering, selective memory.
My own validation depends on your approval.
Whether it is congratulatory or discouragingly brutal.
Your input is the one thing that is most crucial.
Can I call myself a writer if I don't believe in myself?
When I constantly seek approval from everyone else?
How can I then expect to make any sort of wealth?
Of a craft and skill I still think anyone is able to produce.
Is there any point in me putting my apparent talent to use?
When I limit and submit myself into a negative recluse.
I was told I must have self belief in order to achieve,
The dream that I am so desperately trying to receive.
The body can only accomplish what the mind believes.
I know I must rid myself from any form of self doubt.
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Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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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