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cry for...cry for...
the girl who sees fat
in all the wrong places
and wishes for a way
to eliminate it quickly
the boy who strayed
popping pills like candy
nearly drowning in sorrow
and creating a single red line
the girl who feels deformed
no matter what you see in her
how lovely she truly is
she's convinced it's all lies
the boy who has to hide himself
and holds more secrets than you know
but let's me see inside his heart
and stays strong for us both
the girl who just wants love
but keeps doing it the wrong way
she may not see it but i can
and she needs help before it's too late
cry for us, strangers to you
but not to others
for we are the young ones
suffering in silence
begging to be heard
BeautifulI felt beautiful today.
I didn't straighten my hair,
And I didn't put on makeup.
I closed my white blinds and let
The light shine through
For a fresh background.
I stole my fathers camera,
Turned on my iPod, and began to dance.
I held it away and smiled,
Letting the -click- of the shutters
Blend with the music, forming its own beat.
I grinned and twirled in one of my sister's dresses,
Not giving a care should she walk in.
I laughed and fiddled with my hair,
I was coy and shy and natural.
I shed my shell of T-Shirts and jeans,
And let myseelf be free.
I look at the pictures I had taken and said,
Oh- there you are.
I've been looking for you.
Some PeopleSome people spend their whole lives regretting.
Some people spend forever locked away.
Some people follow a misleading heading.
Some people are easily led far astray.
But I could never
For each day we're together
Is a blessing too profound to describe.
Have you ever felt so alone
that when someone touches you
it chills you to the bone?
Have you ever been neglected
because you were someone
who had always been rejected?
Have you ever cut through your skin,
indulging in the pain,
instead of asking for forgiveness for your sin?
Have you ever had a family
who would not care if you died,
but instead would have a monumental jamboree?
If you are someone who answered no
to any or all of all of the questions above
I have one more question to ask before you go
Do you ever imagine living life
where love is a foreign term
and everyday is filled with grief and strife?
Because that is the life I live everyday
and thats because I was left alone in the dark
and eventually I closed my eyes and lost my way
Complicated"You know, personally speaking, I don't think you're really unwell at all."
"I'm sorry, are you the one who is sick or am I?"
"There is nothing wrong with you."
"Can you say that again?"
"I said, you aren't sick!"
"Whatever. The receptionist is calling me in, anyway."
"You're a hypochondriac."
"What?! Listen you-"
"Look, just go inside. I'm sure the doctor will say the same thing."
"So. What did the doctor say?"
"That it's complicated."
"Yeah. They need to run more tests and figure it out."
"You sound skeptical."
"You told him that you only get 'sick' in history class."
"And about how your heart races and your hands shake."
"And about how you can't sleep at night and you can't concentrate."
"Yes, yes, all of that, I told him everything I told you."
"Did you also happen to mention the boy who sits in front of you in that class?"
"What's that got to do with it?"
"Tell me something. Have you noticed
ExcusesHe sleeps like a child without a voice. (And she listens like a child who cannot hear.)
He dreams like a stranger on a train. (And she watches like another fixated by his thoughts.)
He sighs like the first whisper of a rainstorm. (And she understands like the eve of the storm.)
He breathes like tomorrow is his last day. (And she reminds him that he will live longer than ever.)
He sings like a bird in the winds of the forest. (And she understands the sweetness of every note.)
He cries like the downpour in the desert. (And she climbs to the ends of the earth to make him smile.)
He loses his way like a deer out of the forest. (And she guides him back each time to the place where he is meant to be.)
He breaks like a fragile flower in the dust and the wind. (And she tells him he is too strong to be fragile ever.)
He fights like the last angel defending heaven. (And she gives him his swords and armor.)
He writes like the blood from the finest writer's heart. (And she reads his words with awe
Opportunities"Please teach me." She asked him softly.
"Teach you what?" He looked out of the window, shattered glass at his feet. Her face was looking down as she sat on her knees, studying a thousand of his reflections in the mirror like shards below. He seemed a little impatient. She didn't flinch at the annoyance in his voice.
Her eyes, the eyes of a moon nymph drowning, looking into his, the eyes of the sea god who was drowning her. "Teach me about life."
"What is life?" His voice broke slightly, and before it could be seen, he was looking out of his window again. "It is nothing but broken words, stolen from the lips of lovers that had been doomed a long time ago. It is a thousand poniards wedged in the heart of a man who cannot die. It is the black tar on the soul of a woman who cannot breathe." He laughed bitterly, "Life is nothing but an opportunist. It drains your soul. And all it ever offers us in return, are opportunities of sadness and hardship."
"It also gives us a time to be happy and
Have You Ever...?Have you ever wanted
To strangle someone
They were there?
Have you ever wished
Someone be dead
What they've said?
Do you ever yearn
To light someone aflame
Did something wrong?
Maybe it's just me
And I'm just demented
But I don't think I'm alone
With the things I've presented...
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More