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Ghost in the mirrorThe only pain that I see is yours
The only tears I see are yours
The only one screaming
Wishing for help is you
The only insecurity that I see is yours
The only sadness that I see is yours
The only one screaming
For helping in the the night is you
The only cold glare I see is yours
The only ghost eyes I see is yours
The only love
The only pure hatred i see is mine
I am the reason why you're sad
I am the only that made you so cold
I am the demon that threw away your
I am the one that gave you
And I am your ghost
I am your friend
I am your lover
And also your angel
Am the reason why you are what you are now
And that is why I had to go
Had to leave you
Go on say it Go on yell it!Go on say it
Go on yell it
I know you want to
Yell all those hurtful things about me and my race
Be cause we're different, I'm different, he, she, all of us are different
Yell that I'm black!
My skin colour doesn't represent me
Yell at my personality not my looks
be stereotypical to me
Just because your scared!
You yell that I'm the one who did this
I hurt them
I'm not supposed to be alive
Yell that I'm a freak!
Accuse me of all those things
Insult me, cuss at me, hit me, punch me!
Just because your scared
And when you get hit back
When you get hit
You'll run to me
Scared, tail behind your legs
You'll ask for help
Well SCREW YOU!
I should say
I'm not like you
Because I'm not like you
I will not hit
And if that person attacks I'll let it happen
Because I'm used to it
I don't care anymore about emotional pain
If that person try's to hit me I'll dodge and I will cont
dont leave medont leave me
sometimes when i sit alone
thinking to myself
thinking, thinking, thinking
and ill remember you
you wont remember me
no one ever does
im the girl who sits alone
who stays in the back
being left alone
you would stay there and talk to me
and id talk to you
we'd play harry potter in the painted clock tower
youd be snape and do that weird voice
then someone would burst out laughing
no one realises my pain
that i live everyday
thinking 'bout my best friend
leah my friend leah
im on my knees
dont leave now
dot leave me in the dark to cry and sit alone
so if one day you come to this webiste and look at this poem
remember me because your my friend
.....my one and only
Black night pt 1K SO ITS 2 AM IM TIRED BUT IM DOING THIS FOR YOU LOT SO HERE WE GO EITHER YOU LIKE IT OR IF U HATE IT GET OUT OF HERE......IM TIRED AND SLIGHTLY INSANE
Thunder crackled above the nightridden shores of dark mouldy rock,waves crashing ravenously against the ragged clifface.The black sky shreiked petrifyingly as it surrounded a fire.the fire was small but strong it danced gracefully over the moon like it was real.A whimper came from a dark gloomy under-grove of bushes.
It was two wolf cubs.One cub was bigger than the other clearly stating he was a boy,he had a black pelt with a thick wisp of grey going from his grey handkerchief neck to his ash grey torso,the tip of his tail was tinged white which stood out.eyes pure white and pupilless all that there was was the black shines in his eyes.
The smaller cub obviously female due to her slender features and slim face was ash grey she had a black under belly and stripes that faded away as they got further down her body.her tail was tinged black
Okay so i was on amazon looking for animal stuff when i saw it A 41 INCH LAYING DOWN WOLF FOR ONLY $14.99 YEAH! Its coming on the 11th YAY!!!!
Its huge fluffy soft and its realistic
The WifeA good wife would never provoke her Husband to jealousy.
A good wife would not take advantage of His love.
A good wife wouldn't take gifts from her Husband to parade it to attract other men.
A good wife wouldn't lie with strangers.
A good wife would be faithful.
A good wife would be thankful.
A good wife would be an honor to her Husband.
She wouldn't want to manipulate or hurt Him.
She would seek to build Him up.
To be there for Him, just as He is her.
She'd remain at His side and work with Him.
Seeking to please Him.
Not tear down the house He makes.
Not disgrace Him.
But love Him.
A good partner tries to understand His feelings, not shun them.
Conversations with a madmanAm I mad? I guess it's obvious.
For you just believed you spoke to a planet.
So I'd say your insane, if you don't mind.
Well a mind? I certainly don't.
When I left this house,
I had such a feeling, the need
To kill myself.
But now that I have returned,
From my conversation,
I wish nothing of it.
I need a reconnection,
I need a re-calibration,
With our earth, the deceased planet.
Many view madness as a bad thing,
Something, some state of mind, negative.
However only through madness,
Have I found true, genuine happiness.
For what am I,
But a verbose thought.
Wrapped up in skin and sanguine,
Comprised of fleeting moments,
Faux truths and a
Personal spiritual ideology.
My mind a realm of chaos, undivided.
Constantly warping, changing.
A moment of complete silence?
I could never recall.
Yes, a pit of disorganisation,
But yet of organised anarchy
That follows no fixed form,
No certain structure.
Much like this current piece
That I have entrusted to you,
To happen upon.
Do I retain the right
Towards The Beyond
Spirit breath condenses
in the deep chill of the void.
as these great ephemeral towers
drift, they reflect the cosmic glow.
They belong to unreality,
only in imagination can any of us
scale their heights.
The Dance.You and I dance as life and death,
unbroken and ever going,
circling and never ending.
As the music dies,
and the song stops,
where our dance is paused.
My sight goes gray,
the light in my eyes dims,
and I fall down forever back.
Your face is the last thing,
I saw and remembered so I take great comfort,
that you're forever there before me as I fall down.
So the music revives,
and the song restarts,
where our dance is unpaused.
The music is all around us and surround us,
like the lives we make and take,
and the dance is going faster to bring life and disaster.
The Memory of a Dead Man Walking
Suchlike the will of brimstone beasts,
Is the will of a dead man walking,
In each step is left the prints of carelessness.
Holding the half empty glass with a crack in the side,
stumbling around the dunes in the long wait to become
a savage before the credits roll.
A happy ending was for another tale for another man way
off back in the mirage of the desert that harbors those
dunes as he lies six feet under with a smile by rigor
mortis and a silent song in the beatless heart, there
beneath a tombstone that read,
here lies a memory.
Come Hell or high Heaven, the dead man walking
walks on without a goal or care for the world,
a bottle of dried up whiskey hanging loosely
in hand, gathering sand from the winds of that
coming storm. Illusive would have been his
laughter to sober eyes in that wasteland.
The Memory looks on as a shade beyond the grave,
staring straight at a man of woe, watching those
apathetic trails disappear. The glass fell into
the bosom of those lands beyond greener pastur
Serenaded are the vultures past the
silence of calm demeanor,
where only leaves fall in a quiet Autumn.
The gusts of haunted winds run through a
chilled air that even ghosts choose to
evade in the darkest hours.
No Sunlight had touched the soils below
in any matter of time,
though it had given first light to growth.
Though that canopy cannot keep away the
howls and screams of undead scavengers
which only muffled the sounds of better
birds who sang for the sun.
Third eyes were stitched shut and feet
were bound by illusive chains. How little
the closed treasure chest could ever hold,
where when opened it would have overflowed,
blotting out the haunted sounds and using
the limited light within darkness.
The vultures search only to find with eyeless
sockets, the lively canopy of those growing woods.
Time and all of space could never have grazed those
soils, however wet or dry. Whatever was let in was
by the canopy that guards and shelters.
There were paths in those woods, where many feet h
baby stepsit was probably
celsius met fahrenheit
in a sloppy french kiss on frozen ground.
after all the walking,
the skin of my hands started to crack and bleed;
silence, i decided,
was the solution and the cure. i dipped
my hands into its glowing broth:
warmth suffused my body struggling
to sit still.
on marched the sun,
Heart SongI am conscious of
Getting everything in my body going.
I can control everything in it as I need it
And perceive in it every single touch.
I love my heart as it is.
I am certain of loving it.
In my spiritual hand I take it gently
And I always pay attention to it.
It bounces and flutters in my hand,
Almost up to its edge.
My heart is beating incredibly wild
And I give it a calming picture.
With loving words I talk to it:
In a relaxed, peaceful tranquility may you serve my body.
I am full of gratitude in me,
All this love belongs to you.
You have always provided my body good
And I admire your everlasting courage.
In all fears, in all fright
You have been always awakened.
Through my body you pump the blood,
Even at very extreme anger.
All that always in love to me,
For this I thank thee.
I need all my life
Your everlasting song.
Until I have accomplished my work on Earth
And my soul will set out.
Please accompany me with all your strength,
Until the path is reached.
Till then, I will join
my pain, my sorrowmy pain, my sorrow
im not popular
nor thin nor normal
im in the darkness and all i can see
is the darkness of ones laughter
three, four, five
i cry inside
but i dont show it
i try to stay strong but
eventually i snap
what i did im not proud of
im not popular
nor thin nor normal
im the devil
im the thing that burns in your heart pounding against your ribs
screaming to get out
im the thing nightmares are made of
i keep people going when their sad
i make the villans
i make grief
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More