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Ode to the Cruel and Ignorant
I hate you.
I loathe you.
Lower than garbage;
That is you.
Make me sick!</b>
Soft-spoken rain clouds are haunting,
Humming sorrowed lullabies,
Draining acid rain
From fabled silver linings.
The drops fall on skin like bullets,
Burning tiny holes,
Like the prick of a tainted pin,
Shining below creased lids.
Devouring stormy irises,
Obliterating embittered pupils.
Fading into nothingness.
A lonesome land,
Glistening beneath gemstone dewdrops.
Echoing with the sound of receding footsteps,
And nursery tale rhymes,
Sung on high,
Reverberating through the hymns of the innocent,
As they burn…
Melting skin from yellowed bones.
And yet they sing,
Solemn and pure,
As the clouds,
Haunting and soft-spoken,
They hum along,
In a sorrowed lullaby.
Blood drips, like crimson raindrops
From vacant eyes,
Dusty cobwebs outlining curled lashes,
Oozing, staining tears,
Cascading down pale cheeks,
Marking tainted trails,
A gentle race of balmy rubies
Mingling with soft, full lips;
Swallow them down,
A sweetly bitter pill.
It chokes you,
Pull them back!
Put them away,
Back to where they came from.
In reverse they travel,
Given birth to, upon pure lips,
Living quickly upon soft cheekbones,
Sucking back into swollen eyes,
Drifting and dying beneath shining lids.
Follow your own command,
Live life in reverse,
Not living in present,
Not looking to future,
Only the past.
Grow ever smaller,
Back to front,
Growing yet shrinking.
Younger and younger,
Careless and free,
Into the womb.
Smaller and smaller.
No longer existing.
I didn't even get to say…
Feel your hopes fall away.
Just like the season's first snowfall?
Feel your happiness drip away.
Like the season's first sunshine?
Let the sun in and melt your frozen heart,
Thaw the chilled blood within.
Stand alone under a violet sky,
Feel the emptiness cascade into your being.
It fills me, makes me whole.
It drowns you in nothing!
Nothing, yet everything,
All at once.
What a rush!
What do you know?
I know enough.
Just what I need,
And the things to get me through the day.
You can barely make it through the day!
And yet I do.
You just scrape by.
You aren't truly happy.
But I'm learning…
You aren't truly strong.
But I'm still here.
I'm stronger than I thought.
I'm stronger than you know.
I'm stronger than you.
What makes you think that?
I'm strong enough to admit that I am afraid.
I'm not afraid!
Now who is lying?
You may be afraid, but I'm not, and that's
Crimson Liquid DiamondsHot tears spill down her sweet, pale face.
Anger engulfs her; she fights back the temptation to destroy something close to herself, like a cherished photograph of her and her best friend.
Instead, she decides to take the anger out on herself.
She bites her lips, drawing blood.
She digs her fingernails into her own skin, hard enough to leave a semi-circular purple welt.
Frustrated that these actions haven't "vented" her anger, she chooses to go for something more drastic.
She grabs a match and lights a small Tea-lite candle located on her small mahogany bookshelf.
She brushes her long black hair behind her ear, ignoring the stinging pain that shoots through her skull as she touches a welt that she herself produced.
She looks around for a suitable object, her gaze lands upon a small metal nail file.
Hastily she strides across the room, picking it up and bringing it with her to the candle.
She holds the nail file inside the candle flame, staring into it, fixated upon the small orange glow
Too LateEach syllable hurts more than she can bear, the taunting voices damage her more than the knife she drags slowly across her wrist, pain erupting through her heart as the blood spills forth.
Wiping her face with a weakened, wounded hand, blood and tears stain her once smiling face.
Why? Why did it come to this? When did it come to this?
Tears silently streaming down her face, she tries to justify her hasty actions.
Never, not once in her happy, all American life did she imagine she would be here, in her bedroom, tears forming thin wet trails down her clear, pale face, pulling an old, slightly rusted razorblade across her wrist.
Her life flashes before her eyes, not only the hardships but the good times too.
Absently she continues slicing at her wrists, dragging the sharp, foreign metal object again and again across her soft flesh.
Moments pass; moments that turn to seconds and then to minutes, metal carving skin, cutting into her, deeper and deeper, she is no longer aware of the pain, sh
Secret IdentityLonely, she sits,
Quiet as a mouse, except for her gentle sobs.
Slowly, so slowly,
She picks up the knife.
Has it come to this?
She's lasted so long, Little Girl Blue.
She made it so long, without giving in to temptation,
But, tonight, all alone, the forbidden seems all-too alluring.
She takes in a deep breath as the dull blade is placed against soft skin.
Slowly, Little Girl Blue adds pressure.
The blade, biting into flesh, cold and foreign makes her heart jump.
She thinks of excuses first; "A cat scratch", "A shaving knick".
All too unbelievable.
Should she do it? What is there to gain?
Guilt, embarrassment, even more sorrow.
What is there to lose?
The risk is too great.
But, then again, so is the urge to bleed.
The only thought that can save her, from the knife and from herself, is;
"What would they think?"
What would he say, if he knew? If he found out she gave up, gave in, so easily?
And the day after his birthday? Some "sweet sixte
Thinking Of You
Why can't I get you out of my head?
It seems I always think of you.
Everything about you is perfect to me, from the glint in your eye, to the lilt in your laughter, to the simple harmony of your voice.
You care only for others, you are ever altruistic. A noble man, you are; my one and only white knight.
I tried to create a list outlining the pros and cons of your personality.
My endeavour failed, for the only fault that I could find within you is the fact that you are so oblivious to my affection, and you see me as nought more than a good friend.
You left me alone tonight, but not without first offering me advice, and bidding me a good nights sleep. You and I both know I have trouble sleeping lately.
Something has been bothering me, hanging over my head, like a treacherous cloud of noxious poison. This dark haze has descended upon me, and upon my make-believe world.
I hid myself away, in my make-believe world, of which I've spoken before.
My make-believe land, where the clouds are fluf
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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