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Silent GirlI want to cry to you and confess all my secrets.
But for some reason, my tongue cannot manage the words I need to speak.
Just as frequently, my lungs cannot find the air to breathe.
My mind is failing, crumbling and weak.
My eyes grow dim as they lose the ability to see beauty.
Of course, the mirror only reflects the ugly:
So, I expertly fill the void with well-executed banter and rehearsed laughs.
Because I feel that silence isn't what truly defines me.
Not with an incarcerated heart at "not-quite seventeen!".
Wrong ['I really need you now.']Please come back...
I didn't mean it.
I didn't know I'd done it.
I never wanted to hurt you.
I never wanted to push you away.
I don't want you to hate me.
But I knew...
I knew you had always thought I was strong.
That nothing could ever truly harm me.
Despite our intelligence, we weren't as mature as we thought.
We were still fooled by that cursed "Teenage Invincibility" mentality,
And Lord, we were mistaken.
So when I suffered, I turned away.
I didn't want you to see me;
Didn't want you to know of my pain.
I know better now,
I learned I was... "wrong".
It's all wrong, all of it.
Because the words that fall out of my mouth and stain the page are sophomoric at best,
And no metaphor can fool you into thinking I'm any better than all the rest.
I try and I push but my feeble mind is clouded by thoughts of you,
And my heavy heart will break if this is the best I can do.
Because it all started as a minuscule hole;
Which, aided by Misery's cruel company, began to implode.
Now, each night, I recognize a cold pain that resides in that dark cavity
That formed when I fooled myself into thinking he could complete me.
When all I ever wanted was to be happy and lovely and perfect-...
I may never be able to find the talent to ressurect.
So make me.
I'm giving you the power to do what you can.
Mold me beautifully, as though I were grey, raw clay.
Write me as an enchanting fairytale and give me all the greatest lines to say.
Because I will never be as great as you mistakenly percieve;
But somehow, I still want you to love me, d
RollercoasterUp one moment, down the next,
I'm spiraling out of control.
Tracks built on traumas and horrific events,
I wish I could just let go.
Soaring so many thousands of feet of the ground,
Engine composed of pain and fear,
I'll come crashing through perfect clouds.
Please, make these fragmented cries dissappear?
But after flying so high, I must return.
I am forced harshly and suddenly back into reality.
All my break fluid is gone and the friction begins to burn.
But there is little to be done, as comfort is but a formality.
After the smoke is finally cleared,
You may find me broken and ten feet under.
The best thing about hitting rock bottom,
Is that the only place left to go is up.
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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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