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Broken ButterfliesI opened my mouth and coughed out the wings
Throwing up the colors,
From once beautiful things.
They crawl up my throat,
And pry through my teeth,
Revealing the darkness,
I've hid underneath.
Her words echo in my head,
I try to stand.
But fall instead.
They no longer had that fluttery feel.
I guess the love had lost its appeal.
I cough and clutch at the hole in my chest.
Is this just love at its best?
She said she hates the world.
But I know she loves it so,
I have seen her on the hill,
With the evening afterglow.
She feeds them with my beating heart
Like the sweetest tart.
While clutching at the hole in her chest,
Causing them to swarm in unrest.
Their wings are black and broken
Like words unspoken,
They flutter by silently
She stands atop the hill secluded.
While I watch her from the gate.
Next to the forgotten roads,
In the evening when it's late.
Passed where yellow flowers grow,
With all our secrets kept in the glow.
one step forward, two steps aheadSoftly, slowly.
The grains tumble on down.
Except for a whisper,
they don't dare make a sound.
Step by step
We move away from the past.
like steady drops of sand,
Being viewed from stained glass.
Softly and slow
Drop by drop
forced to step and never stop.
We slowly fade away
Like sand in a broken hour glass.
Always on different paths,
We may only brush by.
Never to touch,
Until the day we die.
MarionetteThe strings dig deep into her veins.
She moves with them,
To dull the pain.
A painted face,
With a printed smile,
Her emotions left unversitile.
She dances alone, secluded,
Forlorn and deluded.
And only for her twisted master.
A mental crafter,
A vile bastard.
but this is a show.
the people can see it
the people they know,
this is no secret.
their eyes glazed over
like shes no longer there
ignoring her existence,
she finds comfort in despair.
welcome to the show.
on stage, a girl
who you might as well know.
Only I can see the tears,
And only I know all her fears.
I flick my fingers to the right,
On my command she stands up right.
I flick my finger to the left.
She'd murder all the ones she left.
she dances with a smile.
that does not reach the eyes,
it looks so sick and vile
a soul that believes its lies.
Maybe its love,
i've heard it's supposed to ache.
Or maybe she's insane,
because even the strong can break.
I don't know the reasons,
Or why she's bound and cha
Sky FallIt’s always when it’s raining...
She calls me on the phone.
Her voice worried and hysterical,
Compelling me to get home.
The sky is falling…
That everything’s coming down.
She can feel the whole world crying,
And she’s afraid she going to drown.
Hiding under an umbrella.
Isolated on her bed.
Maybe to keep the rain out,
Or the rumors that have spread.
Trying to ignore them,
Like the voices in her head.
She shuts her eyes to scream,
But silent raindrops fall
That one day,
The clouds might go away.
it leaves me stifled and choked,
When even on the sunny days,
it makes no sense,
that she's always soaked.
In the night.
She wakes to rain,
Hiding under an umbrella in fright.
Like the downfall causes her pain.
She tries to be brave,
Peeking up at the skies.
But she cant help herself,
So she just hides and cries.
and she says
I know i'm lost,
and I've almost lost it all.
Gutter GirlGutter girl washed her dress,
In dirty water to look her best.
Combed her hair back with a comb,
Made from blue birds ribcage bone.
Bought a nice dress from a witch,
With human hair in every stich.
and also gave her glass kept shoes,
That shattered if were ever used.
Gutter girl went to the ball.
A party hosted at the mall.
Wanted to dance, to learn and sing.
Find what romance and love could bring.
But she was stopped
Right at the door
For she was too weird,
And too poor.
She was tossed out to the street,
Her shoes then shattered beneath her feet.
The dress began to fall apart
Each peace ripped raw, straight from her heart
The sky struck midnight.
And she went back,
Underneath and into black.
Gently shielded by the rain,
She goes back down into her drain.
Picks the glass out of her feet ,
Hangs her dress up in defeat.
Kindly thanked her grandma witch,
And bales the rain out of her ditch.
Gutter girl took the day.
To gently wash the pain away...
Paper Planes (mix)You called again
Like I don't know what you want to do.
And I'm still folding these letters,
Pretending my words just might reach you.
So I let it ring
Hiding from the rain,
And the feelings it brings.
while hiding from the pain.
Reminded of when we spent the days,
Like they'd always last.
Now all we have are memories,
That belong to the past.
And I'm just sitting here
Still trapped under the rain.
Waiting for the chance,
To send these paper planes.
I look out the windows
Thinking about where the time goes,
How I let it slip away,
While I watched the clock tick,
It's way throughout the day.
And I've cursed this wasted time,
Ignoring all your calls
Wishing I could find the strength
To break these invisible walls.
And I wish that I could tell the truth,
And I wish that I could lie.
But I've been too afraid,
With no real reason why.
You call again
But I'm too afraid of what you're gonna say,
So I let it ring.
And I'm still here,
For the end
Where The Impossible Tries To BeTake me to a place, she said;
my dreams no longer see.
My heart is breaking, my will is gone;
I'm not who I used to be.
Show me the place you can only see once;
a world for just you and me.
Take me there, to that place;
where the impossible tries to be.
Where the light and the dark share their love;
where the sun and the moon dance above.
A place where the grass and wind
become the sea;
and splash their waves all over me.
Clouds are colors that become the sky;
taste them as they pass on by.
A place where Angels go to cry;
and tears rain down from cold clear sky's.
I'll look up sadly through the rain;
and understand the worlds pain.
so please don't let me fall asleep;
and die for a world i cannot keep.
but don't dare wake me if i dream;
You'll rip our world at its seams.
she left for the place that transcends time;
she'll live forever and ever mine.
a place i will never get to see,
because this world won't let me be.
I can only imagine.
oh so bitterly,
about the place;
Where The Impossi
Hold The NoiseHer words.
They grace pages,
From the tip of her tongue.
Just one more melody,
That goes unsung.
Yet pen strikes at paper,
Creating worlds and dreams.
Not knowing her own talent,
She takes them to extremes.
Unable to control her abilities,
She rhymes the world from reason.
Time holds its breath,
The stars fade out,
She pauses death.
And life stands still.
She writes it all,
While watching from a window sill.
In the worlds she made.
Away from the loud reverberations,
Of stress, life, and boys.
She finds she is finally able,
To Hold The Noise.
We Are The LiarsWe twist are words to talk to you,
And bend the facts
to make them true.
We are the wolves, that lead the lambs.
Like gods of death
who guide the dammed.
The tricksters and jesters, who kings all loved;
Until we had them lynched and clubbed.
We are the ones, who break your rules.
While dancing on your laws like fools.
Your friends and family that will always last,
It is we who wear the mask.
We lie to make our world more,
While wearing masks that you adore.
We are the ones who set up the fires
And bury the living
in funeral pyres
we are the ashes
Crowned with thorns
And misplaced desires
We are the liars
BeautyBeauty rose out of that silent sea,
Her eyes were tepid with wild thunder,
And then she turned and looked at me.
Me; a meagre man who knew no lady fair,
Nor one of care as she snaps my heart asunder.
Beauty flew up to that sinister sky,
Her lips were dark with mad desire,
And then she turned and started to cry.
Cry; a crude curse who knew no mortal smile,
Nor one so vile as she scars my aura in fire.
Beauty stood up on that scarlet skin,
Her locks were rouge with quiet rain,
And then she turned and walked on sin.
Sin; a sordid spirit who knew no lover true,
Nor one in clue as she saves me from my pain.
A Letter to No OneThe clock ticked against silence,
Upon the cemetery of a room.
Deep sighs weave through the air,
Meager warmth in compressed despair.
Moths fall prey to a musty lampshade,
An opened window to Night’s gloom.
Thoughts dance like ripples on water,
And clouds on the hiding moon.
A lullaby plays from the gentle sound,
Made by scratching pen on paper.
One story told too many times,
Is voiced from words created.
Though this time revived from lies,
A phoenix forms the ugly truth.
The pen rolls from the wooden desk,
Having served its final use.
Old dusty dolls and teddy bears,
Watched helplessly through glassy eyes.
No star showed to twinkle hope,
Not one ray from the busy moon.
On the clock’s tick, a rope was hanging.
On the clock’s tock, a form was thrashing.
A tired, hoarse throat gasps for life,
Cut abruptly by the Reaper’s scythe.
Poems on the shelf with an unknown author.
Paintings on the wall left unsigned.
Just another heart trapped in horror,
An unfinished l
So What Do I Do?If only I could read your mind
If only I could interpret you emotions
Understand what you're going through
See through your eyes
Hear through your ears
Feel through your heart
If only I knew how to help you
But I can't
And I don't
And it's killing me
So what do I do?
Mind.Darkness surrounds me,
Shadows surround you.
The present threatens me,
as the past did to you.
Your memories, you keep at bay,
but your thoughts just seem to fade away.
Your murdurous thirst is always there
and you seem to be grabbing at your hair.
My thoughts aren't right
my head's too tight,
I have to fight
just not take flight.
I want it to end
I want it to end
Please will somebody help me then?
It's not to late
Never to late
say it'll be alright
but we know it's not alright.
Because of your past,
you will certainly fade last.
You will not find a friend in this world.
We are not one
but one and the same.
Our minds have turned against us.
Always DefeatedI just run; faster than the wind. I can't stay. I won't.
All of this hurts
To remain standing, when all I am, is torn down.
Can you hear my screams?
Or just the silence
As I take a step into the unknown, will you hold my hand? Will you ever believe in me?
I keep trying but, all those words spoken, make me want to cry; to give up and to let go of all I know.
And you know the pain never stops. It's like a never ending empty void, which is sucking me in and I wonder when this will be done.
Will I be the one who won?
Or will I be the loser everyone knows me to be?
Autumnal InsomniaIt's an Autumn night. The cold comes cutting
Across the seas and the Isle is in winter's for-pang.
I am still at my desk in sweats and fevers, pacing
Over long due essays and the morning's march.
The space on the wall is screaming at me
From where the picture hanged upon the arch
Above the study door. My phone has not rang
In days. In no way could you call me free.
Is it late or early or both? I cannot see
Past the window's blank abyss and I delve
Into another long since read book and look to find
The clock is already far past twelve.
The creaking grows with roaring zephyrs
Of night-breath, the gate creaks in torment
And the dark and twisted line of the tree
Seems horrifying to me.
I close the curtain and shut the door
And pick my book up from off of the floor.
I look and see the clock is now past three
And it matter not in the least to me
And I pray to the Man of Galilee.
Lead-lined eyes and a slurring soul
And the hours awake take their toll
And I fall asleep.
Chenbeard the PirateChapter 1:
I remember waking up, with the distinct metallic taste of blood swilling about my teeth. I spat a red glob of the stuff onto the stone floor and tried very hard, through the pounding of my skull, to determine why I had been left in such a poor state of affairs. Most of my memories had been jumbled up, no doubt by the violence inflicted upon me prior to my arrival. My thoughts were a nonsensical sequence of colors and sounds--most of which made no sense. I could recall several important bits and pieces though: a voice, one that was calling out for me and a warm hand, reaching toward the distance. Was that hand mine? I wondered, as the memory faded away. How exactly had I come to arrive in this place, that alone was food for thought.
My internal rumination however was soon broken by the sound of a rusted metallic gate, screeching it's lungs out as it attempted to open the way. I could not see the whining mechanism, but I could tell that it was defin
Missing Pieces.I am a missing piece. Something that someone needs.
But at the same time, I feel so incomplete.
I’ve wandered way too far, wondered for far too long
Am I a missing piece? Or a piece that won’t belong?
Is it possible I’m damaged and not missing at all?
That I’m just as dysfunctional as everybody else?
Pretending to be perfect never softened a single fall.
But neither did admitting that you’re broken and flawed.
A broken missing piece. Is that all I’m meant to be?
There is no master plan that includes the likes of me.
Being all alone, it’s a hurt that will not cease.
A hundred thousand years from now
I’ll still be
Imaginary FriendI once had a friend.
That was made of pretend,
Who's only friend was me.
We played all alone,
Just all on our own.
Down on the hills,
And the trees.
We ran through the woods,
Jumped in the hills,
And played in the dark,
Because we lived for the thrills.
We went on our journeys,
And time would stand still.
The world would change,
Because it bowed to our will.
Then came the days
My friend started to fade.
We no longer spoke,
We just sat in the shade.
And as we sat silent
We looked at the sky .
My friend left for the last time,
Without a goodbye.
I guess the fact is.
They were no longer shy.
I once had a friend,
I thought was made of pretend.
Who supposedly no one could see.
So I sit and I wait,
Pretending their late.
Alone with no guarantee.
Hoping and saying ,
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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