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AsylumThe walls are white,
so are the floors.
This place were I live has no doors.
It smells of nothing.
Not flowers, nor rain.
Sometimes it gets hard just to keep sane.
I look at the wall,
but somethings not right.
You can’t tell it’s morning, noon, or night.
It’s driving me crazy,
I’m pulling my hair,
but, my arms can’t get there.
I move my arms with all my strength.
They remain in the same place.
Tears sting my frustrated face.
I feel a sting,
burning my skin,
Then reality seems to fade out and in.
The walls are white,
so are the floors.
This place where I live has no doors.
It smell of nothing.
Not flowers, nor rain.
In reality I guess I’m not really sane.
Check ListCHECK LIST:
Heart feeling with welling regret...
Still reminded of the words I fear...
Now it’s her who you are kissing...
VolumeTheir screams are loud
my music's louder
bang on the door all they want
I’m not coming out
raise their voices
I’ll raise the volume
anything is better than being out there
Walk away and leave me alone
Don’t they ever get tired of it?
I know I do
Turn up the volume
and drown out the sorrow
Bang on the door all they want
I’m never coming out
ROTG A New bloom Arises: PROLOGE PROLOGE:
The first time I planted a seed was in the middle of my parents argument. The yelling and screaming grew worse each day and every time I'd just grit and bear it. Every time, I would plant another seed. When ran out of seeds I would run off during another argument and buy some more with, what my aunt and uncle called behind my back, “pity” money. And each time I was greeted with the same old lady who told me folktales about The Guardians, the were nonsense, of course, but at least they were better than hearing the harsh words my parents had to say.
On November 29, my first flower bloomed. I ran into my parents room, only to find that Mom had already left for work and Dad was sleeping on the couch. So, I celebrated in their place. Gathering all my plants with their decorated pots and freshly put soil, I set them around my desk, pouring each one it's own drink; only to pour it in their pot for them to drink.
Sometimes I'd talk
Rise of the Guardians: Goodbye”Promise me you won’t ever forget us…” Jack whispered in my ear, “Promise that you’ll tell stories of us to your children. Never stop them from believing.”
”But will I ever see you again? Will I ever see any of you again?!” I said, panic growing in my stomach. I looked up at him, there were tears in his eyes, “Jack? What’s wrong? Why won’t you look at me?! Answer me!”
He then looked up at me, tears budding in his crystal blue eyes. “I’m sorry Becca, but all snow eventually melts. Farewell..” Jack slowly started fading away, leaving only a small snowflake behind. The other guardians also began to fade.
I looked around frantically, “Jack?! Santa?! Bunny?! Toothfairy?! Sandman?! This has got to be some kinda joke! Please don’t go, don’t leave me!” I ran to my window, stumbling on the way. There was no one. My bones grew cold, my heart stopped.
They were gone…
I'll WaitI'll wait for you from dawn 'till dusk,
invisible to your eyes.
I'll stand out in the bitter cold,
even listen to your lies.
Deep inside we're tied together,
the string of fate connects.
I'll stand out in the pouring weather,
waiting for fate to deal its decks.
And when you finally turn around,
see me from the heart.
Our love will be bound,
we'll never let it fall apart.
So I'll wit for you day by day,
even if the answer is only a "may".
BrokenI'm not broken,
Just a little bent.
All those words you've spoken,
Just left me a little dent.
My heart isn't shattered,
It just has a crack.
Sore, bruised, and battered,
But my tears I hold back.
Please don't worry about me.
I'm fine, I swear.
I just want you to see,
That I'm still able to be repaired.
Even though I'm hurt, damaged, and weakened,
Even though I've felt so much pain.
It doesn't mean I'm truly beaten,
It just means that I'll need a little help again.
Bad HabitI think I was your drink of fine wine,
only used when needed from time to time
I'd get you tipsy, as stars collide
Your drunk, slurred words
blending in with mine
(I couldn't even comprehend
when you said it wouldn't happen again)
I think I was your cigarette break
when anxiety filled,
from me, you'd take
One puff here, and one puff there
(I could barely hear
when you said, "I'm sorry, dear")
I think I was your line of cocaine,
thinking I'd be there to ease your pain
I'd bring you higher,
head suspended in clouds
(So I knew it was fake,
when you said, "It was my mistake")
I think I was your bad habit,
and ignorantly, you were mine
You continue to relapse, my dear
But rest assured:
I won't this time.
You were my first
I fell in, immersed
A world of excitement
I smile, extatic
You were fantastic
You were my heart
silly, but smart
Make time slow
I don't want you to go
You always told me
It took some time
I must admit
At first I thought
You wouldn't fit
But now I miss it's true
when the Doctor was you
So before you go
I hope you know
You put on quite a show
Is it too much to ask?I don't understand what's wrong with me today.
It feels like all my of friends have drifted too far away.
I've tried to be strong and fix all I've wronged
But nothing goes according to plan.
And I just want to back up, stop and start over again.
And these days are the loneliest of my life.
It feels like something is wrong but everything seems alright.
Are they trying to avoid me because of being me?
The past is the past but I hope I'm not history...
All I want is someone to talk and stay...with me.
Is it too much to ask for a little time and company?
HealingHaving the courage to seek forgiveness
Even when things are rough and when
All seems to be
It might take time but
Numbing the pain will make it sting longer and
Grow uncontrollably bigger.
Is not real,
What you say,
Is not what you feel.
Make you rot,
"Who am I?
What am I not?"
Are an illusion,
They give you nothing,
Nothing but confusion.
Blinds the wise,
There is no vision,
In your eyes.
Is the greatest lie,
There is no feeling,
After you die.
Which we create,
Drain our life,
Leave us with hate.
And I have nothing but vanity,
Since nothing is real,
Not even reality.
Maiden of the Olive Oil TreeMaiden of the olive oil tree -
caryatid body, color of cream,
how do you fare against the crumbling temple?
How do you fare against the pressure
weighting upon your chest?
For you have long kept this temple,
broken like a mother.
You have long adorned it
with your cultivated crest.
But when the framework falters -
the foundation all decaying -
will you climb the olive branches,
free, no more inept?
And bathe in oil satin,
to smooth the ancient scarring,
as time releases tension
from your ankles to your breasts.
Boy of the PastSo, tell me, Boy of the Past
Was it worth it in the end
To sit there and pretend
Like the present wouldn’t disappear?
And the future wouldn’t ever near?
Was it worth it to keep those regrets in your life?
The ones you held onto with so much strife?
The ones you couldn’t ever forget?
The ones you couldn’t ever admit?
Was it worth it to hold on
To the pain you placed upon
Yourself with no forgiveness?
Like it was no one else’s business
Was it worth it to see through
The true and only you?
You looked in the mirror and regarded
Only an image that was greatly marréd
Was it worth it to ignore
What, for you, had been still in store?
A life you deemed had no meaning
The regrets constantly intervening
Was it worth it to use that mask?
And never, ever ask?
Bear it all on your own?
Surrounded, yet all alone
Was it worth it to chain
Yourself to all your pain?
To wallow in your shame?
You yourself the one you blamed
Because as I stand here and observe
In the cas
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More