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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?
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
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
Morning ButterflyTo those who should live when our stars collide,
Suffocating innocence is but a dying light.
CupidSo many times up here
I've cast my arrow down
Upon the hearts of the lonely
So that they may find love.
Eyes, brimmed with tears,
Find each other in the crowd,
Their throbbing red hearts
Scream with desire.
The whole world disappears
As they are taken over by
A glow emanates from their intertwined hands
And their helpless souls drown in each other's embrace.
Their hearts inflamed
And their eyes misty,
They are cloaked and held in the very light of Heaven.
Indifferent to all the perils of the world,
For the fire cannot touch them now.
For even if it does,
They shall hold each other
In an eternal embrace,
Their love conquering all.
But, if love conquers all,
Then why am I so powerless?
Why must I be so close to love,
Only to have it dangle just out of reach?
I shall never know the warmth,
Which inflames the heart,
Blinding it from all other outside forces.
If only I was blind,
So I didn't have to bear
Seeing one more happy
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
Tinted BlueI wanted
To capture the sea,
So I picked it up with my hands.
It seeped through my fingers,
And became droplets on the floor.
To live in the ocean,
So I poured water everywhere.
It swam away
And was gone within the hour.
To never leave the water,
So I never got out of the pool.
Now, my lips are tinted blue
And I have water in my lungs.
I got my wish,
But now my family is creating a flood.
Love ArrowA dove bursts forth from its cage
As a thousand flowers emerge from the ground.
The sky breaks into dawn
I watch hues of pink and red
Seep through the black of night.
A thousand bells resound throughout the world,
Their song carried by the wind,
Bounding to every corner of the earth,
Two hearts are burning red,
Kindled beneath me on a hearth
Emanating a tenderness
That I only know too well.
I shoot my arrow,
And the world seems to stop
For just one moment.
My vision clouds,
And a single raindrop falls
Amidst the beautiful scene.
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.
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...
Being MeBreakable? Yes.
I Wish It Would RainI wish it would rain
That it would wash you away
Out of my skin
I wish the clouds would part
Shine light on realization
What I could be
I wish there was a rainbow
An arc of brilliant colors
A sign to give me hope
Bright Eyesbright eyes don't you see?
that the light is burning right into me
yet as my darkness and demons and
devils cower from you
yours are staying and they refuse
and i've had to accept that your
affections for me were
only just a
Her burnt Salvationpry open the wall of my past
maybe you'll see what no one
else wanted too,
But she's cemented to this corner,
where a hundred knocks per hour
finally becomes those empty
whimpers repeating thank you
BreakingI sit alone at a table in the far corner of the crowded room, easily ignored by the people around me. I can still picture my wife, sitting in the chair across from me, complimenting the soup that I sip on now, which had always seemed a little bland to me. Ever since her passing, I have been left alone, spending my days sitting in her favorite spot and thinking of the times that came before.
I hear him first, rather than see him. His shoes stomped loudly into the old folk’s home and, even though there was only one pair of feet, his footsteps sounded like a bull participating in a wild stampede. People turned to glare at him as he walked past. I did not look up.
“What has upset you, my boy?” I ask in my hoarse, aging voice, keeping my eyes glued to the lukewarm soup.
“Mother and Father won’t let me join the school’s soccer team. They offered me the goalie position.” My grandson, Matthew, whines. “They say it will take away from my studies.
I Am Lost.I am lost,
I cannot feel.
Is this sleep,
When I close my eyes?
Or is it death,
When I rest my head?
I am lost,
I cannot see.
Is this real,
When I hear your voice?
Or is it an illusion,
When I see your face?
I am lost,
I do not know
Where I am,
When I look ahead.
Or where I've been,
When I look back.
I am lost,
I have forgotten
How to speak,
When words weigh on my lips.
Or how to scream,
When terror fills my lungs.
I am lost,
I’ll never be found.
No one noticed,
When I went away.
They can see me,
But I am gone.
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.
A Week Of KissesA Week Of Kisses
The first day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your shoulder,
Well before I thought about your lips.
Because I don’t know what I am doing, firstly,
But more importantly,
It’s because I know things can spiral quickly,
If things start shifting
After we lay down the concrete.
So I kiss the foundation,
Before we reach the soil.
The second day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your elbow,
Because it holds together the touch
And the flex.
To exhibit it,
I must kiss the joint that bends
And combines us together.
The third day I told you I loved you,
I lay my lips to your temples,
As I learned about the temple of reform,
For the Youth in North America.
Kissing you there signifying I will protect you,
As well as your temple,
As we re-form, into something more.
The fourth day I told you I loved you,
I’d kiss you softly on your forehead.
Because that’s what holds your brillian
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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