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Glass Bulletshow can you say you're shattered,
when you're the one that hit me,
when you're the one-
that shot me down-
and broke me apart:
a bullet without a spark
no catalyst to drive you forward,
you try to wound but end up broken in the process;
so i'm the one-
that cleans you up-
and tries to put you back together-
when all i want to do is throw you out
like shattered glass
a fallen hope,
a reality that doesn't exist,
you're lies within a barrel-
ready to fire at will-
but you're weak,
and a hopeless cause without a use
so i'll throw you to the ground,
and watch you break,
because even when you're the one who's destroyed;
i still get cut in the process
Mr MrWith words I cannot utter,
not even to silence.
You cross my mind,
and hold my heart.
With the pain it all brings,
I don't even notice.
You're the drug that I crave,
Addicted to the numbness.
The perfect melody,
a chorus stuck in my head.
I'm lost with you,
drowning in your fire.
You're all I wanna see,
Dreaming when I'm awake.
I need a way,
just to escape.
Bearing it AllAuthor John Green stated once that "Humans tend to measure time within the framework of important events…The event that we're counting…away from is the defining moment of these people's lives and it reshapes their relationship to the world so completely that it also reshapes their understanding of time." During my "before" I was a dancer; ballet, jazz, and tap. It was everything to me and my dream at the time was to someday dance on Broadway. During one of my classes, while doing battements, it suddenly felt as of my hip had popped out of its socket, causing me to fall to the ground. It didn't hurt at the time, but I still sat out for the rest of the class and went to the doctors the next day. The first trip to the doctors was quite uneventful. I was told that it was probably nothing more than a strained thigh and to just take it easy for two weeks, and if the pain is still there go back to the doctor. That was fine and I did as told, until one day in gym while playing DDR I somehow ma
001Maybe maybe this time when I tell you everything is alright, it can be the truth. Maybe I won't have to hide anymore. I really don't want to. I want to be well for you. I want to be alright. You deserve so much more than I can give you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not perfect like you deserve. And that I'm so messed up inside, and outside. That I can't be okay. I want to be okay, really I do. I want to be okay for you. I want to be that perfect girl for you. The one you spend forever with. But it's dark where I am, and your light isn't enough to help me see. And I know you're strong, but you're not strong enough to catch me. And I'm falling. Falling so deep. I want to get out. Really, I do. Can't you see?
Or are you okay with the lies? Can you really not see past the surface? That I'm cracked and broken into a million little pieces. Do you not care? Do you really think I'm okay? Do you believe the words that come out of my mouth? Can you not see they're tainted black? That it's
It Was LoveIt was pain, and it was sorrow, and it was everything he didn't want.
It was her un-shed tears, and her flustered cheeks, and quivering lips.
It was hope, and a future, and something unbelievable.
It was a hug, a kiss, an 'iloveyou' that broke him.
It was her, and it was him, and a maybe ever after.
It was being lost, but being found, and never having to worry.
It was rainy days, and cloud watching, and her always in his arms.
It was forever, and for never, and a fairy tale rolled into one.
UntitledThere once was a princess of silver and gold who sparkled in the sunlight and glowed with the moon. But that princess was gone. So long gone and never to be seen again. It was strange when it happened, almost like she left with the moon. The last sliver of her ever seen before she disappeared, but unlike the moon, she didn't return. She didn't slowly come back, piece by piece till she was whole again. No, she stayed hidden away, like clouds covering the sky. The princess became a broken doll of herself, her smile that was once so bright, was now razorblades. Her edges sharp and her eyes dull. She was skin and bones and broken smiles. She danced the night away in torn dresses and broken crowns. Her princes left and her knights turned dark. Her world was a big mess of kaleidoscope colors. Lines blurred till she couldn't tell what was real from what was fake. But everything was fake now. From the smile on her lips to the promises that left them. She lived for the night, but die
Selling the NewsThey tell you to be perfect.
But really it's all lies.
One wrong move and it's all your fault.
Don't try to make it right.
It still breaks in the end.
Paranoia is the new sin,
The savage beast within.
They make it sound like a prayer,
Like it's really all okay.
But you know the truth.
What they're hiding underneath their skin.
They tell you not to worry,
Everything is fine.
But something is still there,
The greater good doesn't exist,
It's all fiction,
Suspicion is the new religion.
CagedSomewhere dark, and damp, and cold.
A rotting corpse, a story told.
Shackles binding, keeping, killing.
An empty silence, no voice is filling.
Pretty words, stories, tales.
A closing darkness where death prevails.
Where once a man, stood, screamed, and raged.
His body left, alone, and caged.
A story on RepeatFor what it's worth,
It's not worth much.
We walk along,
Never anywhere to actually go.
We say things,
We never mean.
It's an endless cycle,
A story on repeat.
A sad tale,
Of our own invention.
One thousand to go.
Words we have spoken,
We speak again.
An Endless cycle,
A story on repeat.
And whispers in the wind.
An endless cycle,
A story on repeat.
I am a MouseI am a mouse.
I am quiet, I am nothing.
I am a book that nobody has read.
I am an eclipsed sun and a cloaked moon.
I am irrelevant and unwanted, a broken toy in an attic.
I am the dust in your rear-view mirror that you leave behind.
I am the air that you breathe in and spit out as something different.
I am the palest white. I am the darkest black. I am the dullest, emptiest grey.
I am the old man with forgotten memories and the baby who has yet to make them.
I am a forgotten word, dangling on the tip of your tongue, hanging on the noose of your lips.
I am a dried up stream. I am a felled forest. I am an abandoned cornucopia of resolute nothingness.
And there is Hell burning in my eyes.
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
Mental Disorder Discrimination"You said you've got depression?
No you don't, you attention seeker.
You're just an average teenager with the perfect life
Desperately looking for sympathy."
Stop crying, you coward.
You're just a childish "scaredy-cat".
Blaming your problems on a mental disorder
That doesn't even exist."
"So you're schizophrenic?
Grow the hell up, and stop acting like a child
You're too old for imaginary friends
You callow, juvenile, little twit."
But if we're attention seekers,
Why do we try so hard to hide our feelings from the world?
Why do we isolate ourselves in our rooms,
Desperately hiding the cuts on our wrists
Trying our best to live a normal life?
And if we're simply "scaredy-cats",
Why is our fear so vividly intense?
Unlike simple fear, our anxiety will stick with us forever
A severe long-lasting feeling of powerful panic.
A feeling from which we'll never be free.
Suddenly we're childish for having a mental disorder?
Schizophrenia is not something we can control.
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
you talk like a travestyoh, mercury boy, you can't
write your way out of this
body or out of this mind;
you can pray like it's high-fashion,
insist you're only burning yourself out
(but tell me - do you feel like a god yet?)
if only for murky mirrors &
silver cicadas caught
in your ribcage, you've
got a knack for decaying
poem for borderlinesif i could concentrate over
seven hundred thousand eyes
at the roof to the numbers stepping
from the nicities & rows
to go back
to the shattered surface
& the ripples beating over the hang
halfway between shallow
biting lips. maybe--
she couldn't have known
that it takes a whole three minutes
for the lungs to
well, maybe she
who, oh well
the white; the haze--
the booming over
the spume and spray
me get out of my head
just pull up the shutters
my tongue the weight to talk
but that's all we'll ever be:
a match burning itself out for
under the backspray of someone else's wheels
All In Your HeadSoft spoken words at midnight, but she's not really there. Yet it continues, day after day, month after month. An endless cycle that you're bound to repeat no matter how many times you tell yourself she's gone.
Get it together.
Cherished memories that you can't seem to forget no matter how hard you try. And you try, so fucking hard. But at least when you pretend, the wounds don't hurt so bad. They don't burn and ache and make your vision go red.
Get it together.
So you focus on nothing, her, everything. It doesn't matter. You mutter to yourself, to her, to the shadows. And they respond, they shift, morph, drag you down until you're no more. They suffocate your lungs until you're filled with them. Filled with shadows and her.
Get it together.
Time passes faster, slower, sometimes it doesn't move at all. You're stuck until the next time because there is no in between. There's no stop, pause, no intake of breath. Nothing but a constant hum of silence and screaming. So
Keep in Touch!
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