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I remember.I remember the last time I saw you.
You lay alone on the vast hotel bed with a tube snaked around your head pumping oxygen through your nose. The machine made a sound like the ocean: smooth and even. You looked like pile of bones with skin attached and a tumor in the middle. I stood between your sister, sleeping peacefully on the couch, and you in the grand bed which I had lain in beside you just five minutes before. I stared, so wanting to walk over and shake you awake to say goodbye. It's the last time I'll ever see you. But you were so weak, and you could barely sit upright the night before. I wanted to let you enjoy your dreams while you could. I wondered if you would wake later that day and think, She left without a word.
Because that's what I was thinking.
I felt my face twist into pain. Eyebrows curled upward, lips pouting. An expression soon to become familiar on my face. I wondered if your sister was awake. I didn't want to sound ridiculous, talking to a sleeping girl,
Words Never SpokenWe all stood up to say goodbye to Anna Lee. As we did, I finally saw my chance to break away and see you. I looked toward the front of the room. You lay there, your face above the lip of the white casket. Pale and thin, but just as I had last seen you. My throat was tight. I didn't want to talk anymore with your other friends who I had just met a few weeks ago. You were the one I came to see. So as they were all turned, I walked up behind the old couple in front of you. They moved away after a moment and I got a clear view of you.
You looked like you were only sleeping. Last year, you were so plump and full of life, but laying here, your face was thin, cheekbones sticking out, eyes sunken, and your hands... Your hands were at just the wrong angle. There were bruises on your fingers. Did you notice? Where did you get those? I wanted to touch you. I wanted to talk to you. You looked as if you were about to sit up and say, "Boo!" because that's exactly what you would do. I couldn't believ
A new friend? Amateur..."Alright then, I'm sticking to you like glue!" The idiot said.
Are you wondering what just happened? Let me explain.
I was lounging on a dark night in the local park, where there were few people. It was about 2:47 or so, and I was enjoying the breeze. But then I heard footsteps. I thought about going limp and pretending I was asleep, but, for some reason, I lifted up my head. I was actually hoping to see a beautiful young lady who might be running from a sex offender, and maybe I'd save her and have a snack.
What I saw was not running from a sex offender, it was not a lady, and it was definitely not beautiful. My neck settled into a normal position, and I found myself nose-to-nose with a stupid-looking blond haired boy. His hair was obviously bleached -- and badly done at that. His eyes were wide and quizzical, shining with wonder. The worst part was the moment he opened his mouth.
"Are you a vampire?" He asked hesitantly. There was a long silence between us. Why not just say it?
Peacemaker My name is Peacemaker. I have no gender, and I have no race. I do not take a democrat or republican side of politics, and I look at things from every angle I can. My history is lost, and my future is unpredicted.
Many people come to me every day and ask for help. They all have problems they need assistance to take on. I give them the advice they seek, and they are on their way. Many of these people called me wise. A few have told me I was "perfect" or "flawless".
That is not true.
If I have one flaw, it is that I cannot take my own advice. If a friend and I argue, the terrible, hard reality comes crashing into me like a raving river.
The question is: what happens when I, the Peacemaker, can no longer make peace?
InamimateI find more love in inanimate objects than in living people.
It's a strange feeling.
It's almost sad.
The pajama top that I took off wrapped it's arms around me, as if it were hugging me and keeping me warm.
The teddy bear I hug is leaning against my chest, as if it were saying to me, "I need you."
The radio at my side is softly playing me my favorite songs, as if it were singing a lullaby to me.
Sometimes it's not enough.
Because after a while, the pajama top is just a shirt.
Because after a while, the teddy bear is just a doll.
Because after a while, the radio is just a device to be controlled.
Because after a while, you need a real voice.
And somewhere in the world, someone will make it all better without doing a thing.
Even though, I find more love in inanimate objects than in real people.
Because I am not that familiar with the latter.
I'll be...I'll be green, I'll be blue,
I'll be anything just to get to talk to you.
I'll be high, I'll be low,
I just wanna know
How you feel, and everything else.
I'll be goth, I'll be prep
If I just take a step
to being closer to you.
All I want...
Most people can...Most people can sing the ABCs.
Few can sing an Opera.
Most people can dance the Hokey Pokey.
Few can dance the Nutcracker Ballet.
Most people can read off a few lines.
Few people can make you believe their actually Romeo or Juliet.
Most people can aim a camera.
Few can capture the emotion and feeling.
Most people can draw a stick figure.
Few people can actually draw a person.
Most people can draw a triangle.
Few people can really paint a mountain.
Most people can do this.
You can do more.
Rainbow SongListen to him singing the song to me.
Listen to him singing --
Listen to beauty and love as he sings,
Yes, listen to him...
Look at me listening to his love song.
Look at me breaking his frail heart.
Love is a sensitive thing from the start.
Yes, look at me.
This is so nice.
So majestic and I'm
His heart shatters
In my hands.
Soak my life again.
Listen to him singing the song to me.
Listen to him singing --
Listen to beauty and love as he sings,
Yes, listen to him...
?.:-LOVE-:.?Love is like a jacket.
When it catches your eye, you try it on, and look for the right size.
You take it home and wear it and show it off.
It covers you and keeps you warm.
For a while it really interests you, and you pay a lot of attention to it.
But after a while, it doesn't interest you as much, but it's a part of your daily life.
Soon, it wears out, and doesn't always keep you warm in strong winds.
It thins and grows holes.
Sometimes, the holes are convenient.
Sometimes, you patch it up.
Sometimes, it just gapes.
Eventually, you sell it, or throw it away.
Sooner or later, you get a new jacket.
You forget about that old jacket.
And that's the end of the jacket.
And that's the end of love.
She's a WriterShe sits at her desk
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
Evil or kind?Negativity makes me smile
My poses and laughter
Suit the best villains
But I care so much about my friends
About their emotions and well being
And I always cheer them up
Am I evil?
Am I kind?
Maybe a little bit of both...
Do you know what it feels like...To be lonely?
To be bullied?
To be called ugly?
To be unattractive?
To be compared to other women?
To be considered unnormal?
To be unloved even though you give love to others?
To face issues that you don't in reality know how to fix?
To think that your goal you're reaching for, is unattainable?
To feel like the cause of many people's problems?
To be held up on a high pedistal that you can't get down off of?
To realize that people don't like you based on your personailty?
To at no avail, keep up your happy and upbeatness for others?
To look at happy couples and wish that you had someone to be happy with?
To stop fighting for anything anymore?
death of a sweet sixteeni found my house on
the market the
other day -
- it was 2011 again,
but the sun had set
on my nights of terror
nose to the barstool and
two black eyes, a dish
towel caught in my throat.
i keep trying to find
pieces of myself that
no longer exist - a dead dog,
baby blue walls, whispered
it sold for six figures,
and i can only wish
that i could sell my pain
for that much, but no
one would be willing to buy
it, as i am it's sole host,
the only one who
one of these days i will
drive by that sad eyed
grey house before we are
gone for good, and i will set
up with my camera, snapping
photos of my whitewashed hurt.
and if i linger too long,
so be it, as i've spent so
many nights ruined,
scraped away like the stars
once stuck on my
the bank may own my house,
but it will never own my heart.
A Cup of TeaCome on in and
Take a seat,
Sit with me a while
What you are and
Where you're from
Have a cup of tea,
Stay a while
To learn about you,
To know you
Your pain and
I will listen
Reveal to me
Your origin and
I will accept you
For you are me
You are my demon,
A part of myself,
I will never reject you
Care for a second cup?
By the LakeSat beneath a Christmas tree in late-March.
The ground is damp but pliant, it pretends to accept me
and then sneaks its cold fingers through my clothes
to dampen my spirits further with its chilly undertones.
I stare at the river, plump with soon-to-be April showers.
It does roly-polys over the smallest of obstacles and goes on.
It reminds me of what I should be able to do.
It runs as I grind to a full stop, and consider my life sentence.
The sky is blue; not like me, but bright and crisped;
Its been blurred by an amateur around the edges with cloud
But they don’t threaten me with rain just yet so, for now, we are friends.
The sun is missing. No one knows where she is.
She could be dead, by now. At the bottom of the lake.
Could have slunk there in a midday sunset.
She could of drowned her sorrows in the ricocheting tides
of a man made dam and its loosened throat. She could be.
She is not, she is hiding.
The sun hides from the world but leaves a blue sheen behind
to let everyone k
ConfrontationI shed a tear
The damage will be severe
Run away in fear?
I'll fight until the coast is clear!
Reasons We Love Homestuck“Reasons we love H O M E S T U C K.”
Why do this love this web comic, you ask?
Maybe it’s just the way the fandom rolls,
or how mean Andrew Hussie trolls.
It could possibly be Eridan’s accent (WWyeh?)
or even Feferi’s keyboard trident. (---E)
Some people say it’s Equius’ broken bows and arrows, ( D →)
but what about Nepeta’s meows and roleplays? (:33 <)
We really do love Sollux’s lisp,
and also when Karkat’s pissed. (FUCKASS!)
Including Kanaya's fabulous lipstick,
it's also Rose's amazing magic.
How about when Dave starts rapping
and Jade Harley begins napping?
We love Vriska’s eight-pupiled eye,
and how John is such an adorable guy.
Or maybe it’s with all the sprites
or how prospit glows bright.
Can’t forget about Derse’s darkness
or Gamzee and all his soberness. (WHOOPS.)
There’s also this thing with Tav and stairs
which he t
You AgainOh, it's you again. I must admit,
The crooning has
The lies have been
And mine are like swords
It's just you and me
In this sick game
I can tell
You're pulling me in,
And I don't have
To pull you down
Sometimes, I've had
And all I see is
Then it became
I don't know
How to escape
Dark to see.
And all I can
Wonder at every
Turn I make
When can it be
Keep in Touch!
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