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Retarded In LoveMy mind keeps going back to how I cried,
And asked if I could be your bride.
I realize now,
That tears can be strong,
That crying isn't always wrong.
I'm so glad that you said yes,
When I confessed.
What a lovely dame you are,
With your eyes shining like stars,
Even when your hair is a mess,
You still look so well dressed.
I am so at sea,
By the way you mesmerize me.
You are so beautiful,
You may not realize it,
But I see it in every inch,
And every curve of you.
I love you.
Jesus ChristWell, Jesus Christ.
What a pretty face,
And I know you're not of an expensive taste.
I believe we were destined for fate,
I hope you realize I don't see you for the weight,
You seem to so desperately hate.
I'd love you no matter what you did,
As long as you don't rid me of my love for you.
I'd rather not make this cheesy and boring,
But hell, love is like that anyway,
And isn't that what we're supposed to be restoring?
You're the girl I could make a million songs for,
Because you're the one I adore,
I could do it with ease,
As many as I please.
I could sing you a lullaby,
So please don't say goodbye,
And please don't abide,
On the past that had died.
PsyduckWith sharp white teeth,
And glowing eyes,
The child hid,
And began to cry.
Oh don't cry,
He's just a figurement of your imagination,
No need to worry,
No need to fear.
"But his mouth is large,
And he's got an urge,
To pass me through his big black gorge."
Well then my dear,
We'll make him purge,
And spit you up he will.
"But then I'll be all mish-mash."
Oh shush up and stop with your balderdash!
Oh please though,
He'll come get me,
His bright yellow feathers are stained with blood,
And his feet are covered in dried black mud."
She went to sleep despite her plea,
The little girl was right,
And the monster did swallow up poor
Soft Rose BloodI ran my fingers along the grass, plucking out a blade now and then. I sat on the edge of a cliff above the rocky waves of this distant place as I watched the sun set on the horizon against the glistening water. A tear slowly drifted down my cheek from my nearly black eyes as the wind made my long baby blue hair surround my head and shoulders.
Wisps of hair tickled my cheeks and I tried to smile through the tears. It was a hard, unpleasant smile that caused small dimples to appear on my cheeks beside my tears and hair. I pulled the cuffs of my old black skull sweater over my hands and began to wipe restlessly at my own tears. Wanting for them to stop so badly but dreading their end because it only meant that I would have to go back there. Back to the place I choose to spent this endless summer in. Why did I ever think to do so?
The last tear fell on to my sleeve and I sniffled, wiping my wet nose. I stood up slowly, the wind pulling my clothes around me.
"Jessicka?" I heard a voice tha
When Did I FirstWhen did I first meet you?
When did I first begin to care,
And to love you?
When did I first want to be more than friends?
When did I first realized that you--
Were all I wanted at the time?
When did I first become absolutely sure of our love?
When did I first become jealous of everyone else who was near you?
When did I first begin to cry all the tears I had kept in all those years?
When did I first start to lose who I once was?
When did I first take down my walls for ones like you--
Ones that made me smile and laugh and I knew who cared?
When did I first begin to lose you?
When did I first start to hurt myself because crying was no longer enough?
When did I first stop eating properly?
When did I first begin filling every moment of my life with song lyrics?
When did I first begin to place songs and items with memories that both hurt so badly,
And are so wonderful?
When did I first start to realize that I no longer cared what happened to me?
When did I first start hurting like this?
Don't.Don't point that gun in my face unless you're going to shoot.
Don't take that blade to my wrist unless you plan on cutting.
Don't leave your razors open and freely about because I might just use them.
Don't show me where the fire is because I might begin to burn.
Don't let me cry too much or you may end up drowning.
Don't let me cut too much or you might ending up bleeding.
Don't lock me away because I'll only get worse.
Don't leave me out in the open or I might become insane.
Don't ask me how I am when you know that I'm just going to lie.
Don't assure me of something when you aren't even going to try.
Don't leave me with those pills because you might return to a mess.
Don't leave me with that lighter because you might return to ashes.
Don't let me drive myself insane here on my own.
Don't let my dark si
Sick AddictionSurround my limbs in poison needles,
Pushing neon colors into my veins.
Agony mixed with bursts of masochistic pleasure.
I will never stop,
I will never quit,
My addiction is a thick lust-
Thick like honey that trickles down onto your lips.
My eyes flash with shades of color ten times brighter-
Than that of the ones being injected into me.
Speckles of color flood my vision.
I am blinded by my own will.
I'm addicted to this sin.
This lust I've found within.
I will never leave this place,
This place of comfort that I am in.
I'm not quite sure where I began.
I only know that I started young,
But once you start it's hard to stop.
I don't think I'll ever stop.
These toxic colors,
These feeling of euphoria that flash through me,
I'm not done,
I'm never done.
Not Really SmilingI'm sorry for the confusion,
I'm sorry for the pain.
I'm sorry for all the mistakes-
That I have ever made.
I wish that I was falling-
To this very day.
And everytime I feel as though I'm dying-
It's the best feeling I've ever had.
I find it hard to tell you,
And you may find it hard to take.
That everytime I'm crying,
I feel as though I'm finally awake.
I'm sorry for the trouble,
I'm sorry for my mistakes.
I'm just a stupid bitch,
And I'll pay the price for everything.
I'm sorry I'm not worth it,
I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you.
Everytime you're sad,
And everytime you're hurt.
I wish that it was me,
Because then I could pay the price for all the shit I've done.
I'm sorry for everything,
I swear to god it's true.
I don't know how much more I have to tell you-
That I'm not really smiling.
Renew MeTurn over all our tables,
Start us all anew,
Replenish our bodies,
Bring us all to the light.
Let us see the bad that we have done,
Let us flush it all away,
Let us grasp the concept that others say we-
Are 'too young'
To understand anyway.
I'm cleaning myself out,
Another year to start myself over,
I'm finding who I really am,
Now that my self war has been over.
The memories have faded,
The pain is gone,
I have numbed the pain,
Of all that has been lost.
I'm cleaning out all my profiles,
Getting rid of the things I no longer enjoy,
And keeping the old,
That I find some joy in.
I've actually started to find myself,
Who I really am,
What I am like,
What I like.
Immutable DevotionBound and determined; words that burn me in places that no person should ever experience. "Bound and determined" she says, as though she has any notion of the turmoil; simmering behind every smile that I force for her comfort. I don't think she even realizes how her flamboyant optimism sears me; char upon char, until my remnants are tissue paper tears. Scars layering scars, penetrating so deeply, that my soul has become a leper.
She waffles on; her words distant and hollow, as the ocean of my defeat silently swallows me whole. I can't help but admire her benevolence; formidability that is nothing short of impregnable, if only I had her strength. I'm not a pessimist, though I am a pragmatist; guaranteeing failure in this nefarious skirmish that I did not choose.
For her, I keep my silence; for her, I soldier on. Though I bite my tongue through the copious fusillades that incessantly barrage my feeble and cumbersome carcass; I know I am a coward at heart. If not for her, I would have
What We Thought Was World PeaceI have spent so many years making my way to the top of the legendary mountain to have my one wish granted, world peace. There are so many people in this world that deserve better, and we should all be equal.
I reach the mountain and was greeted by an old man, “What brings you to my mountain?”
“I would like to make my wish. It is just like the legends foretold; I have spent a year of my life climbing up the throat of the world, and now…and now my dream will come true…”
“Now, you should know that the wish you make is final and can’t be reversed. Be careful what you wish for.” The old man told his words with great respect to me.
“Th-the time has come.” I was getting nervous, but at least I knew that there was no wrong way this wish could go.
“Make your wish, young one.”
I clapped my hands together and bowed, “I wish for world peace.” My words were final. And I was proud.
He gave a long sigh an
Old man? "Old man?"
"Could you please tell me of Them? Of your favorite project?"
"Heh. Yes, I suppose I could tell you of them. But you heard this story many times.
Don't you get bored by it?"
The one referred to as Old man is smiling the smile reserved for the quirks of the
young "Alright, alright, settle down." He says "Well, as you know, first I-"
"I don't want to be rude." Said the young one "But can tell me about how it started with Them?"
"Hmph. Oh, alright." Says the Old man with only mild irritation in his voice."Well, at first it was just a hobby, you know?
Something to pass the time. But, as I kept them for longer and longer my interest in them grew: A sociable species is
nothing new, and neither is adapting to your surroundings." The Old man's face spread with a slow grin that was
barely insane "But a species that adapted it's surrounding to itself, not the othe
Winter's Cold TouchI walk to the front door of my house; the cold wind gives me shivers. I grab the golden nob and crank it open. A gust of warm air hits my face, prickling away my goose bumps. When I enter, I strip of my heavy coat and boots to keep the house from my wet clothing. My feet touch the tile and sends jolts up my spine due to its icy resemblance. I walk to the kitchen and warm some water in the microwave to make hot chocolate. I wait as the whirring of the heater turns on, warming the house. The water is done; I drop spoons of starchy powder into the smooth hot wavering water. The exes floating powder entered my nose; I take in the scent of sweet chocolate, but soon close the lid. The couch at the end of the room is beckoning me. As I drift to where it sit, I pass the glass window and watch the meek raindrops beat against the glass. Slowly, I lower myself onto the couch and cuddle with the cushions, which were lightly sprinkled with a cold that soon dissolves by my touch. As the house fell s
El humano y el gato. El gato y el humano. El reloj de pared marcaba las tres de la madrugada. Su monótono tick-tack no le estaba ayudando a dormirse y, a cada movimiento del sonoro segundero, sus nervios crecían más y más, incitados por el imparable correteo del tiempo. Sin poder soportarlo más, Naviel se levantó de la cama con la torpeza de quien ha estado bebiendo. En el escaso espacio hasta llegar a la puerta pudo tropezarse con una lata de cerveza vacía y con algún cojín al que anteriormente le había declarado la guerra, cuando su enfado y el efecto del alcohol todavía eran recientes.
Desarreglado y con bolsas bajo los ojos, el joven salió de su desastrosa habitación para dirigirse al jardín interior de su casa -o, mejor dicho, de la casa que compartía con sus tres compañeros de banda-. Subió las escaleras que se dirigían a la terraza y, una vez allí, saltó un pequeño muro. Así, pudo sen
Escala de coloresTodo parece tan poco interesante, visto desde aquí. Desde mis ojos. Vengo de un mundo lleno de destellos en la oscuridad e historias que contar, y ahora me encuentro esto.
Una exclamación me llama torpemente, como si hacerle caso fuera lo más sensato. Eso es lo que hace la gente. Pero yo miro y miro... y no veo nada. Es todo gris. Impersonal. Frío. Distante. Hasta las luces blancas de la entrada me parecen pintadas en la pared, de imitación, como para dar el pego.
Entro y me encuentro lo que ya conozco. Pasillos, focos reflejados en el suelo, puertas, escaparates, muñecos que parecen personas y personas que parecen muñecos. Todavía no sé distinguirlos muy bien. No les pongo cara. Los veo todos iguales... Grises. Negros. Blancos. Qué más da.
Todo es tan igual, tan repetitivo que me pierdo aunque siga todo recto. Todo distrae, todo engaña y todo grita con todas sus fuerzas para llamar la atención.
Be your own life's MichelangeloBe your own life's Michelangelo
I just had 16 years old, and I just lost two of the poeple I cared the most about : My grandparents. It's the first time that I loose someone I old dear... I don't really know how to react, I always had a tendency to look in the past and grief... This didn't help this habit of mine at all... Once again, I though about what I could have said, or done. What I did, and said, and what I couln't now. Me, that was always kind of the phylosopher, I should have use that time with them, to ask, talk about, what they saw life as... I could have, I should have... I can't anymore, and it hurt me, that I have been so naive to think I could have the time later.
I was always the kind to let myself floating in the river of life, and then, complain about what life had taken me...
It's some month that I use this to shot poeple out...
One day, when I was walking in the city center, I saw a young girl in a street, she seemed to be painting on a wall. Intrigued, I began
One Thousand ClocksI sat in my old desk chair behind the counter, staring at the people walking past the storefront and completely ignoring me. I leaned back and the chair creaked loudly, I grumbled in reply.
“Should get that fixed...” I mumbled under my breath. What would be the point of getting it fixed, though? Why not just buy another chair? I stood up and the chair creaked again. I kicked at it, but it just slid across the floor on it’s wheels a short distance, before hitting the wall.
Slowly walking out from behind the counter, I wandered around my small clock-shop, tweaking hands and tapping glass faces. Some clocks weren’t ticking anymore, in fact there was a large wall in the back of the store filled with clocks that were unusable. The batteries hadn’t run out, they were just not functioning. I couldn’t bear to get rid of them, though. Each clock told some kind of story, and each one was special. A cough rattled my frail body and it t
Retribution (WIP)If there is such a thing as a god, it will have to beg for my forgiveness, due to the existence it created in which I harbor life into, that has the actions taken all around me and too me, in order for my to choose my hand of retribution. I will smite thee, for the sins committed against me. Steel yourself, for the holy, unholy retribution I shall put upon thee. Prepare your Mind and body, for the void of confusion that comes into this life, that I will surely attempt to cast you into with the rage triggered by actions such as yours. Pathetic? No doubt. My emotional outcast is folly. I know not whose life will quench by the end of this, but I do understand somewhat of the stakes I put upon myself. This is retribution.
.Pool of Knowledge.I find myself tied to a small rope that's just about to break while I float upside-down above a pool of knowledge.
I cry into the pool as I attempt to reach for it, wanting the knowledge so badly, not all of it, no.
I could never swallow up all the knowledge in such a large pool.
But I just wish that, even for a second, I would be able to suck in more than the small droplets that the wind blows up towards me.
I feel worthless, like I don't know anything worth shit.
There are ones higher up on their ropes, true, that are getting even less droplets, but still.
They are mostly younger, and their rope will be lowered in time.
But there are others, some even my age, that are lower than me.
They can reach and suck in as much knowledge as they can before it evaporates right in their hands.
Then there are all-powerful ones.
Ones who freely drink from this pool.
But some of them are too greedy and puke it
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More