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The Cabin [Red, Red Rust]All the dirt and the rust of life grows quickly enough four you to watch, if only you'd stand still.
Time holds no power here amongst collections of dusty memories.
The embryo lays hidden:
An unborn child in the placenta of the red, red rust.
The fear of his last moments remain imprinted in the floorboards;
The ghosts of his emotions are left to haunt you.
The crackling rage roars as the flames consume the fear and the hurt of the red, red rust.
If a cabin burns in an empty forest and no one notices,
Will you still be able to find the Ashes?
Letter from LoveI miss you when you're gone. Things aren't that bad here, really. I don't know what it is. I guess something's wrong with me. But I feel so panicked. Like, I'm slipping and I don't know what to do. My fingers are plunged deep into the ground above me, but all I have to grasp is muck and I can't hold on for long. I feel like any day, I'm going to crack. Because I always do. I'm anticipating it so much, I'm nearly ready to push myself into it. To hurt myself so I can get through the pain that I know will somehow find me. Why can't I feel good when you're not around? You think you're messed up? At least you can function. At least you can pretend everything is alright. I'm crumbling and no one's around to see it.
Come back soon,
Words of Heartache"Actions speak louder than words."
While your words are harsh,
Your actions are brutal.
"I like you."
Doesn't mean the same thing as
"I love you."
Your half-hearted attempts are practically worthless.
Can't compare to
"I wish you were here."
But for reasons I can't find or explain,
I miss you...
Not that you were ever around for me to miss.
InsomniaThis fortress was built to keep the world out and lock our happiness in.
But as I lay here, I wonder if we failed.
I curl into myself,
Wrapped in lace and satin.
Waves of black velvet cascade down my back.
I should be happy, I know.
Yet, I can't help but to wonder, as you sleep soundly, if we were wrong.
Laughter and shrieking reside only a chamber away.
Worry and reality pace just outside the door.
Loneliness lurks at the back window.
But we remain in the center, hollow and healing as we desperately try to fool ourselves that we'll be alright.
Here we lay, three broken hearts in a castle;
Stumbling through darkness, nearly crashing every which way.
We put on a brave face, laughing at our mistakes.
But at night, no one can deny such an empty silence.
A Quick [Unintentional] RhymeI want a Christian Slater guy;
One with dark, mischievous eyes
And a smile that's wickedly sly.
Yep, I want a Christian Slater guy.
Malice in Underland: IntroductionAlice's hair fell about her as a chilling wind bit harshly at her cheeks. Cautiously, she wrapped the bundle in her arms tighter and continued down the quiet, empty London streets. She was little more than a dark mass, blending evenly with the shadows of the night. Perhaps it was for this reason that no one seemed to notice this bustling young woman as she proceeded hastily down the street. Perhaps, no one cared to bother with the unknown figure, and simply continued with their blissful lives. Either way, no one cast a single glance; not even when she slowed beneath a flickering street light and climbed the stoop to a dark building.
As the bundle in her arms began to whimper in protest, Alice smiled sadly and began to sing a soft lullaby to the infant child.
"Speak roughly to your little boy and beat him when he sneezes,
He only does it to annoy because he knows it teases.
Wow! Wow! Wow!
Wow! Wow! Wow!
He only does it to annoy because he knows it teases," she practically whispered. It
How to be Populardon’t talk
go to parties
listen to friends
go with the flow
drink some more
don’t let them see the tears
as you cry yourself to sleep
for the most important thing
is to be popular
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
The sound of silenceThe sound of silence,
Is so deafening,
That it makes my ears ring,
With the cacophony of my own insanity.
Being afraid to speakThe unpleasantries of past events
Were driven by the voices of contempt
Leaving me breathless
To that effect, I was left senseless
And when I laid under the covers
As I tried to warm myself from the cold stares
I shiver, as my skin turned white
By the solace of silence
But, as I overcame their sadness
I learned to embrace the cold
Until I was able to give warmth to others
Ideationlocked in a room
with only one escape,
or so it seems.
your hands shake and you drop the key.
Suddenly you're unsure.
Do I want to pick it up?
Do I want to find it?
Do I want to leave?
you think to yourself
there's no other choice.
find the key or corrode, or rust
wear down the hinge
use sadness as the key.
You have the answer now.
Just open the door.
Just walk outside and don't look back.
Let yourself leave with no regrets.
And yet you can't.
You're afraid, you think,
but you are actually strong.
Don't run away.
Don't take that leap.
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".
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More