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Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?
I cry. Does that make me emo?
I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?
I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?
I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?
I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?
I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?
I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.
Does that make me different?
But at least it makes me
I can’t feel my toes and at first I think
It’s just my toes.
I can cover them up.
I can warm them.
It spreads, like fire,
I glance away for a second, it seems, and my feet are cold
That’s funny, I didn’t feel that
Maybe I’ll cover them up too
I’ll warm them up.
I’ll take a nap
Maybe a short rest will make it all better, warm them
What’s that? How long has it been?
My legs… are you still mine..
Why has my breath left me, short?
Has everything but deserted me?
What about you, are you still here?
Are you still with me?
And before I can say goodbye, I think my thoughts are leaving me too –
RelapseIt’s like counting
along your limbs -
remembering a time
‘just one more’
made you feel better.
- & you’re sitting there
Draco, stuck in limbo
always looks like he’s
Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character who
never existed but in the labyrinth of her head:
a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy words
she’d heard in her catatonic state; coma living
day in and day out, reliant on the salvation
of a man made of foreign wishing
and imperfection and necessity – an ignorance
of the less than ideal perception of self she’d
come to fear, absention stained romantic to the point
where daydreams were a standard for survival
(real living is for the purposeful of heart,
he loves her in her sleep)
We fight for our dream.
We're just waiting to die.
The same emotions
with a different drive.
Sometimes dead, sometimes alive.
The same in one way,
different in another
brother and sister, sister and brother.
So close in feeling,
so different in the end.
Falling apart, or finally on the mend?
Which am I?
Will I ever know?
Fighting to stay or ready to go?
Maybe I'm both,
in some impossible way.
Emotions oddly mixed everyday.
I'm such a freak.
Excuse me, I laugh, I should call it "unique"
She does not have,
She has many of them.
A million shields,
a million personalities,
She's always changing,
to fit every person around her.
If one were to ask why,
she would answer with,
I will never reveal my weaknesses,
because she's evil.
She hates everyone,
stupider than her is barely tolerable,
smarter than her is too scary,
She hates it all.
She leaves the world behind,
To one she has dreamt of,
she will smile,
because she is truly happy alone.
She is not evil,
She does not hate you,
She is not dishonest,
She simply wants to be alone.
We are the King and Queen of Broken DreamsStanding still in a mine field, staring at all we have left.
We were so young, we didn’t stop to think.
Now we’re in a car crash, teetering on the brink.
If you were to leave me now, I don’t know what I’d do.
It was a whirl wind romance,
A light when all was black, a spark of something when all was bleak.
You swept me off my feet and made me feel brand new.
I thought we could live forever and I’m certain you did to.
We built a house without foundations
And now we’re falling down,
Everything’s crumbling around us, time slipping through out fingertips.
People used to walk past us but they were to drunk to see,
That our lives are coming apart around us, there is no light as far as we can see.
There was no fire to start with,
Just two broken things, the world had left behind.
The casualties of other people’s dreams of power, money and control,
Spat out onto the curb to rot away and die.
We never stood a chance or so
wallflower clippingsthere's scar tissue in her throat,
swollen around the words she never said;
dark rings around her eyes
like planets unremembered, and
a staleness to her touch,
the crystalline Dead Sea.
she's living like a story
that's already been told
"if no one loved you
would you mean anything at all?"
in that moment,
we forget to exist.
lifelinesI fear the sound of sparrows
and the density of leaves
against dew-muffled blades
and I'm drowning
in the sky.
My skin has learned how
to peel itself off
without causing a commotion
in my marrows or
even show the slightest hint
and my heart has learned how
to hush the stars in their wake
and keep it all a secret.
There's a sea in my mouth
and I can't swim.
There are lifelines
cast like these and it will
all end with the same tragedy.
the name that cuts like a knife,
it's all that you see inside,
is breaking with every breath I take
the only thing I can't seem to face.
Falling off the EdgeDo you know what it feels like?
To nearly fall off the edge,
but not quite...
just so that you're dangling;
clinging for your worthless life
lest it fall into the sea of loneliness.
Your callused, pink fingers turning
to a shade of purplish-red of pain
as it does it best to hold on.
In the sea of loneliness,
everything is crisp, translucent.
There is nothing around you,
you are alone...
unlike other people,
you have no one
clamouring to save you;
you have no one
diving in to get you out.
There is no point
screaming for help,
you will only waste
the little time and air you have left.
You only have the darkness
of the sea envelop
of seafoam thronesFrom Atlas’ hands she wept to me,
atop Africas and South Atlantics;
this is one situation unaffected by
ember eyes and windy lashes
(it has no anatomy).
You are sparrows stranded
in tiny crevices and cliffside love,
though you rebuke flight
in the fear of chipping feathers.
So what do you do?
You reach for my soul,
coveting flight with shaking
and perhaps I’ll let you:
With flytrap lips and
glass shaped hips…
you are unfit for anything but
(But beauty isn’t everything)
Her SideTomorrow she'll be gone,
but what can you say?
Nothing can help her.
The pain won't go away.
But she would've stopped,
you could've said no.
That's what she wanted,
someone to say don't go.
That someone wanted her,
or at least would try.
That someone would grieve
if she were to die.
But you just stared,
nodding your head,
and she realized the truth
with a feeling of dread.
No one wanted her.
No one cared.
Not even you,
with the the love you shared.
So she said good-bye,
and you watched her leave.
She may have had the rope,
but now you can't breathe.
PerfectEver had the feeling where you can't stop looking at a picture?
Your gorgeous face makes me smile
Go weak at the knees
Makes me giggle like a little girl
Those morning texts
All day conversations
Random silly things like that
Make me smile
I see the led light flash the colours I've set for when I get a message from you
My heart flutters
My cheeks flush
I go deaf to the world when I'm reading a message from you
If your down
I'm always there for you
I know you don't want to worry me
I know you want me to smile
But I'm always here for you
No matter how you feel
I'd prefer to help
Than for you to be down
Your gorgeous eyes
Redemption Through ImmolationFire. Rekindled again.
Burn. Leave to trace behind.
Ash. My mental ghost town.
Embers. Swallow the flame.
Phoenix. Relive my death.
Melt. The flux of the sky.
Conflagrate. My fading soul.
Immolation. My redemption.
Begotten: Death of a ChildI: Praeludium: The Cortex Limbo
A spec in a vast emptiness.
Born in utter filth and disgrace.
Concealed and damned.
To flutter helpless and alone.
But a falling leaf in despair.
Congregate and disintegrate.
II: Tabula Rasa: Undo Reality
They say "The shackles of life
cannot be undone".
They say "To die is to wake
Denied and derailed.
"Mishap" they wailed.
"Wane the moon for me"
I said "Fill this empty heart"
The deep inside, just a blank
empty gray slate.
Devoid of emotion and feelings.
Apathy, my begotten brother.
III: Clavicula Nox: Continuum Enhan
One Word Suicide LetterThe final moment.
The last page.
I am withered and torn.
Like mental driftwood.
In an endless sea.
Harbinger of hate.
Set sail yet again.
Towards the edge of sanity.
How do I reconcile with the world?
How do I remember the good times?
Did I give all I had in me?
Even so, it's time to say goodbye.
I dip the tip.
Ink like dreamscapes.
Flowing like a dying vim.
One last gesture.
One last word.
Every Angel Deserves a Child"I can't feel the unfurling of my wings, Daddy."
I was not her father. I had entered her life when she was two years old, and she called me Daddy since she never knew her real father. Her mother's death two years ago made me the sole, living parent of an eleven-year-old, and I never felt like I was the right person for the job.
"What do you mean, Asrin?"
"Mom always said that when puberty started I would be the swan that emerged from the ugly duckling. She said I would be able to fly gracefully towards my dreams. But, I don't feel it."
As much of a woman as she was becoming, she was still a child. I wanted to answer her question, but I really had a hard time discussing her blossoming womanhood in the middle of a laundromat. Her pretty eyes were pleading with me, but I told her we'd talk later.
Janet had told Asrin a lot of things before she succumbed to the cancer. The last week or so of Janet's life were morphine-induced fantasy, I think.
Janet and I had met during c
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More