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The Fault in the Silver-liningDid you know
That when my eyes are clouded
And my mind is empty
I can hear the clock ticking,
Counting each worthless second gone by.
Do matter how hard I try,
My heart won't beat in unison
With the indefinite continuation
Did you know
That when I lay with my ear close to the ground
I can hear the pulse of the earth beneath me.
It slowly spins,
Yet filled with the dead.
Did you also know
That when the blood rushes through my body,
I can hear the wind tremble and quake
With a familiar fear.
Because it knows its fleeting existence
Will slip through the world's fingers.
Did you know
That I'm afraid of that too?
FragmentMy eyes remain clouded,
Unable to conjure any form of tears.
They are dry, blood-shot,
And shift out of focus.
Though I lay still,
My heart is ceaselessly spinning,
The world is endlessly aching.
I can taste the song and I can see the heat.
I hear my heartbeat alone above the ringing that is the scream of the night's wind.
It is calling out for the tear the has fallen
Upon your sleeve, resting on a desk.
The old wood is marked
By the ink that was spilled
When you tried to let the words escape from your lips.
I toss and turn as the crow flies away.
The butterflies are beckoned to mourn the loss of your tears,
Yet I am left.
Arms reach out
And grasp empty air
And I snuggle into a fragment
Of a memory
That is over before it even started.
The dove finds you
And delivers a cold stone--
All that tossing and turning
Has strangled me.
Story Time.The face of evil,
Once a god frozen in the ice,
Whose sanity melts remembering touch,
Is a drop of fire on the rise,
Its soaring hopes
Tied with black ribbons to an electric chair.
Lament, bleeding roses,
Bite your tongue till it bleeds.
In the silent midnight,
A tear sings a water's lullaby,
An Underwater fire walk in the labyrinth submerges the ivory heart.
Praying for spring:
The cycle of love and solitude.
Rescue is possible,
We need an instant repair.
Until then, I'll be missing you.
Burning IgnoranceIf you cracked my heart open like an egg,
You'd see all my love that would seep through the cracks.
You might also see the not-so-pleasant stuff
Dripping like tar onto your unblemished white skin,
Burning it raw in its midst.
I want so desperately
For you to know
That I could never hate you
Because you're that type of flawless,
That I could never be lucky enough
To have love all my not-so-pleasant stuff.
I'll keep it all inside,
Because ignorance is bliss
And you're blissful.
There is a Mermaid Inside of MeThere is a part of me
That has ceaselessly wandered, like a solitary cloud,
Yearning to defy,
Dreaming of impossibilities and foolish things.
Her notions were naive and ridiculous,
Yet somehow understated
And they sparked awareness in me.
On the surface,
I am content with my life.
I feel like a square block being forced into a hole.
I don’t belong to this world presented to me
Though perhaps that’s just my bad judgment.
Something stirs within me,
A driving force takes hold of me.
A flood of hope fills me.
As we leap of the rough, rigid earth
Restless and ambitious,
Serene and sincere,
A mermaid resides within me.
Oh how she desires to break her shackles,
She believes there is more than what the world has given us.
She implants a prevailing sense of expectation.
Do I dare wade in the shallow water?
My heart beats rapidly,
Blood pounds in my ears
As I contravene,
And break the surface.
I face my comprehension,
Embracing the rush
A Photographic Dream The faded black and white photograph sits idly on the vanity. My exact likeness stares out at me from within the flowered frame. We stare at each other, admiring the intricate feature we share. She seems to understand how lucky I was to inherit such beauty from her, the ideal embodiment of femininity. A sort of arrogance glints in her eyes; her plump lips seem to smirk. Her creamy, alabaster skin glows with confident. She is aloof, to say the least. I know everything about this woman, my grandmother, as well as myself, by this photograph. I am the spitting image of her. I know that I am much more than my sorry excuse of a mother. I know that there is more to me than her. Because of my grandmother, I know that I come from more than a disrespected, cheap drunk. This photograph of my grandmother shows me everything that I could ever be.
One day, I know I will leave this place I am forced to call home. I will abandon the lower-class without a second-glance the f
A Doll's Nightmare My painted blue eyes, lined with rows of synthetic eyelashes, knowingly stare out at the crowd. My full, pink lips are frozen into a sickening smile that reveals my pearly white teeth. My plastic body is arranged into an appealing and inviting pose, which is flattered by my tiny, floral, custom-made dress. Every strand of my blonde hair is neatly and perfectly styled. In whole, I am the ideal image of a doll, an idealistic human. I used to take pride in my enticing and flawless appearance and demeanor, but I know better now, that there are thousands of exact replicas of me. Here, sitting on this shelf, we are all competing for the attention we crave.
It's nearly impossible to stand out among an army entirely compiled of copies of yourself. Side by side, we all try our best to smile a little wider, to glow a littler brighter. Children with wide eyes and gaped-toothed smiles will gape while we each try to yell, "Pick me!" as if they could hear us
WhispersThey echo off the walls,
Resounding in my head,
Haunting my thoughts,
And tearing my dreams apart.
The point out my faults and failures,
Making apparent my flaws.
I'm immersed in a sea of hatred,
And an abyss full of glares.
Misery casts its shadow across the room,
Refusing to refrain its lurking.
It is nourished by the pure disgust,
And utter hatred.
It resides here
By my side.
Soon, my heart swells,
But not with eternal love,
But with hatred.
The whispers cease,
And they transform into screams.
The blood is pounding between my ears,
And I let out a piercing scream
That shatters the rest.
Words hurt me no longer,
I return the glares with a grin,
For when I turn
IntrepidI have to let go,
If I don't jump,
I may never fly.
And the fragments are carried in the embrace of the wind.
I've never felt
So safe and sound
Anywhere else but here,
A tear escapes
From the corner of someone's eye
As the ground grows closer.
I have lived a thousand lives
In this moment.
A smile is etched onto my face
And the tear hits the ground.
i'm not good enoughI had a dream
that I woke up without acne
and that you wanted to date me
like in the movies but I'm sorry
this is not a dream and I'm sorry
that I am waking up with flaws this time
and I am sorry
CureThese inner feelings
I must now release
Cure heart from pain
And set myself free
These chains I remove
From my soul and mind
So I could breathe
Be whole once again
Beautiful.They say I’m beautiful
Because of the way my crystalline heart reflects light off its fractured surface
Well, that isn't a reflection
It’s rejection of the light because it’s all too much to handle
Throw myself away into the dark without even a candle
‘Cause I don’t want to recognize all the pain I’m in
Or realize the truth behind what I am or who I've been
And I tried to make things right but I just keep on making wrong
I never listened to the angel on my shoulder when she called
I count my tears like they’re experience
And my scars like they’re mysterious
And that’s a feeling I’ll remember –
Watching as you left
Watching as you ended what was meant to be forever
And I can see it in their eyes; everyone can empathize
So they say that I’m beautiful because they don’t know what else to say.
But if being broken is beautiful, then it’s the ugliest way...
OneI can remember exactly when i first met you.
The slight crease in your face as you smiled.
If one thing could say something, then that did.
I can remember everything.
You shaped me. Made me.
We grew into each other. We fell apart with each other.
I cannot remember anything without you.
I can remember exactly when we first kissed.
The way your lips felt soft and curious, against mine.
If one thing could say something, then that did.
I'd live a million miles away.
Another life and world away, with you.
If I know what love is, it is because of you.
Being MeBreakable? Yes.
For The Boysfor every boy called "rapist" when he made a move at the wrong time;
for every boy called "chauvinist" when he tried being a gentleman;
for every boy called "pervert" because he liked sex;
for every boy slapped on the face and told he "deserved it;"
for every boy told his erection meant he "wanted it;"
for every boy manipulated into sex, drugs or alcohol to "be a man;"
for every boy called "pussy" because he didn't fight back;
for every boy called "animal" because he did fight back;
for every boy called "misogynist" when he criticized a girl;
for every boy called "player" because he dated many girls;
for every boy called "loser" because he didn't;
for every boy called "faggot" because he supported gay-marriage;
for every boy called "homophobe" because he didn't;
for every boy called "abusive" when he yelled;
for every boy called "anti-feminist" because he wished to marry a house-wife;
for every boy told he was "whipped" because he followed a girl's lead;
for every boy called "brainless
Pearl When your heart is broken
Don't believe those liars.
The ones who say,
"There's other fish in the sea"
Why bother with a smelly, common fish,
When you can find a pearl?
And my darling…
You are a pearl to me.
SacrificeThe blood trickling down my chest
Is the same blood dripping from the bullet on the ground.
The heart that was punctured
Is the same heart still beating for you.
The world that is so stained and bloodied
Is the same world that you live in.
I will protect you
With, regrettably, the only life that I have.
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More