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Things you never forget.You never forget:
Your first day of school.
Your first boyfriend.
Your first kiss.
Your first date.
Your first time.
Your wedding day.
The day you graduated.
The day your child was born.
The day you did something amazing.
The day you get hired.
The day you get fired.
The day you got recognized.
The day your dog died.
The day you cried at a sappy movie.
The day you did something stupid.
The day you had fun.
The day you didn't care.
The day you wanted to die.
The days you were happy.
All these things happen.
Things that you will never forget.
You might not remember all the details or the date
But you remember what's important.
These things that you never forget
Always have the biggest impact on who you are.
My InspirationYou once asked me what inspired me, sweet love;
And I shall tell what you want to hear...
It is a girl who isn't clever, but clever in what she knows
and a lost boy who knows exactly where he is going to go.
It is the scent of cologne and smoke and lovemaking
and a man who wears his heart on his sleeve
It is a woman who has always believed in her lover
and he will let her down no more
It is a sick man who is whole again
and the wife who stayed by his side
It is a writer who has found a brand new muse
and the paint of the artist who draws her lover
It is the words of a poet whose trust is renewed
and the warmth in the words of the person who finds love anew
It is the broken hearted girl who is loved and doesn't know
and the tears that are caught in the hands of the unknown lover below
It is the boy with the tuneless guitar who plays it anyway
and the door opening just as you're walking away.
It is the chords of a song which is yet to be sung...
and of course, the sound of a rainstorm wh
I am.I am.
I am the person who lives.
I am the person who loves.
I am the girl who cries to sleep at night, wishing I could be prettier.
I am the boy who is trying to live up to everyone else's expectations other than my own.
I am the invisible who linger in the hallways.
I am the person who bullies to feel better.
I am the parent who gave up after my child went to jail.
I am the daughter who works at fifteen because my parents can't.
I am the person who is bullied for being different.
I am the person who lives because I don't know what happens after death.
I am the woman who is hit on every day because of my looks, making them more of a curse then
I am the man who took steroids to be stronger and now am discarded by society.
I am the child who was forgotten.
I am the broken.
I am the hero.
I am the villain.
I am the takers.
I am the givers.
I am the deserving.
I am the bullied.
I am the pressured.
I am the suffering.
I am the surviving.
I am the wishers.
I am the dreamers.
High SchoolA new year
A new start
Paths will cross
Paths will part
Or spread across?
A new gain
Or an old loss?
Choices will be made
Decisions are bound
Others will be lost
Yourself will be found
What you want
Or what you need?
Let your mind run free
Or your heart take the lead?
Do you choose to leave
Or follow along?
Will the choices you make
Appear to be wrong?
Decisions are tough
But need to be made
Memories you've built
Continue or fade
A path leading left
Follows what you once knew
A path leading right
Gives you something new
Your heart says yes
Your mind says no
You don't want to choose
Yet you have to go
In the end all that matters
Is which path you take
Because your future is what
You CHOOSE to make
LoveIt's the song on the radio that reminds you of what you had and what you lost.
It's the smile that a baby gives when she is genuinely happy.
It's the sound of a laugh from someone who hasn't laughed in a long, long time.
It's the friend who still remembers you even if you call after fifteen years.
It's the last piece of chocolate saved for you in a box you thought was empty.
It's the gift that is exactly what you needed, when you needed it.
It's the two hour ride across town, just so she can see you before she leaves.
It's the dog who waits for you to come home, just to give you all the affection in the world.
It's the companionship one feels in silence when they have found their best friend.
It's the feeling of a warm blanket someone put on you after you fell asleep.
It's the boy who does the stupidest things in the world, just to see you laugh.
It's the girl who kisses you the way she has never ever kissed anyone before.
It's the woman who gives up her seat on the train to the old la
Something About GenderI'm not a girl
Because according to everyone else I'm unable to be one
Because girls are supposed to be spineless
Supposed to be weak
Supposed to be small
Supposed to be quiet
So I must be a boy
Because that's what the world sees in me
It sees courage
It sees passion
It sees anger
It sees a swinging crowbar
But I can't be a boy
Because according to everyone else I'm not male
Because I have breasts
I have ovaries
I have a uterus
I have a vagina
So I'm not a girl
But I'm not a boy
I'm too rough but I'm soft
I kick up my heels but sometimes I wear heels
I wear rings but sometimes they're worn on a fist
I sit slouched with my legs open and a knife in my hand
But I'm not a tranny
But I respond to "woman"
And I respond to "boy"
And I can be called "he" and "she" and answer to both
Because I don't know which one I should answer to
Because apparently neither apply
TearsShe was the girl with eyes of burnt amber. But her eyes weren't always that way. It came from hiding a truth so harsh that her beautiful eyes had turned dark. She swore she could never fall in love.
He was the boy with a face shaped like a broken heart. But his face wasn't always that way either. It came from caring so much about someone that his heart was scratched in cruel, manicured fingers, mangled beyond belief. He swore he would never love again.
They met in a spinal corridor. Then in a courtyard. Then in a room which had a broken window. And finally in a doorway that was too small. And she was crying.
Diamond tears from burnt amber eyes. Diamond tears that fell, uncared for, onto the ground.
He finally had to reach out and stop one diamond from hitting the floor. She looked up at him, surprised, almost angry. But before she could speak, his voice, wine rich, half broken like a damaged violin spoke. "Don't waste your tears where no one can see them."
"They mean nothing."
Judgement"You need to stop doing this."
"Stop doing what?"
"Writing me into your stories."
"Because it scares me. I'm not this guy that you write about. I'm not some kind of Prince Charming and I'm certainly not a sea God or whatever you like to say about my eyes every now and then."
"Yeah. You really need to work on your judgement of people, because this is all wrong. It's like you don't know me at all!"
"So why don't you correct me and I'll fix my idea of you accordingly."
"Well firstly, I'm a really nervous person."
"Yeah. Your hands are either fiddling with your hair or your sleeve, or you're biting your nails."
"And I don't like going out. I'm a hermit."
"Except to your best friends' houses, or to the animal shelter, or to me."
"And I'm dead inside."
"Says the boy who hides his tears at the sight of an injured puppy."
"I do not."
"Yes, you do."
"Anyway, I'm not always nice to you. In fact, I really don't do enough."
"You're right. Except yo
Dead WrongDear Boy with the Broken Eyes.
Just because they have always said it, things have always been difficult. And they are right. Life has always been difficult. Things will never happen the way you want them to happen. Broken hearts are so much easier to find than mended ones. And dreams? Well, if the world ran on dreams, we'd be building a whole new universe already, just to escape our own jaded one.
When I met you, you had already seen the worst of this world. They told you that you were not allowed to love because you couldn't do it the right way. They informed you that you weren't a poet, just a vagabond with tragic fingers on a broken instrument. They explained to you that you couldn't rise above anything because you just weren't special. And that every step of the way, they would be breaking you down, just to watch you fall.
Of course, they didn't mention that when you speak, your voice holds a lost song within it. And when you sleep, your guitar is an inch away from yo
Un roti de Cupidon"Patron.. je suis pas sûr que ça soit une si bonne idée..."
Un bruissement d'ailes presque froufroutant sur sa gauche le fit se retourner d'un bond, mais il ne put percevoir qu'un bref mouvement du coin de l'oeil. Ils étaient rapides, bien trop rapides. Jamais le vieux ne réussirait. De nouveau ce bruit soyeux, semblable à des ailes de tourterelles, mais bien plus proche. Dans son esprit il pouvait les voir, tournant au dessus de sa tête comme autant de vautours prêts à la curée.
Le bruit assourdi des détonations résonna et tout autour d'Emmanuel une pluie de plumes commença à virevolter tandis que cinq bruits sourds accompagnaient la chute d'autant de corps autour de lui.
"Ramasse les, petit. On a encore du boulot."
Avec une grimace mi admirative, mi dégoûtée, le jeune homme se mit au travail, enfilant des lourds gants de cuir pour se protéger. Son sup
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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