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Similar Deviations
Rin POV
Today I met a boy my age at the place my father works.
Len POV
Today I met a girl my age when I was wandering around the courtyard.
Rin POV
He looks like me.
Len POV
She looks like me.
Rin POV
He was interesting to talk to.I received a paper plane,with words.A letter from him.
Len POV
She was interesting to talk to.I gave her a paper plane,with words.A letter to her.
Rin POV
I'm coming back tomorrow.I hope he's there.
Len POV
I'm coming back tomorrow.I hope she's there.

Rin POV
I have so many letters from him.I'm so glad I met him.He helps me forget about my illness...
Len POV
I have so many letters from her.I'm so glad I met her.She helps me forget about my troubles...
Rin POV
I love him.
Len POV
I love her.

Rin POV
Why does Father have to tear up the letters?
*picks up a piece he forgot to throw away*
Len POV
Why does General have to tear up the letters?
*picks up a piece he forgot to throw away*
Rin POV
Why can't I see him anymore?I don't care!I'm still going to see him one last time...before I can't walk at all.
Len POV
Why can't I leave the bunks anymore?I don't care!I'm still going out to see her one last time...before I die.

Rin POV
I'm sorry...I'll be moving away soon...
Len POV
... ...
Rin POV
Thank you for the happy days you gave me...I'll always treasure these memories.
Len POV
Wait!
Rin POV
...I'm sorry...
*runs away*
Len POV
WAIT!
*falls to the ground*
Rin POV
I'll never see you again...I never even got your name...
Len POV
I'll never see you again...I never even got your name...

Rin POV
I can't even breathe on my own...
Len POV
I don't even have space to sit properly...
Rin POV
I want to see him....one last time.
*clutching a scrap of the first letter he sent*
Len POV
I want to see her...one last time.
*clutching a scrap of the first letter she sent*
Rin POV
Its getting difficult to breathe...I can't think anymore.
Len POV
Its getting difficult to breathe...I can't think anymore.
Rin POV
Beep...beep...beep...
Len POV
I...can't...breathe...
Rin POV
I'll see you soon...
BEEEEEEEEP.
Len POV
BLACKOUT.
:iconccwelcomedplz1::iconccwelcomedplz2:
My first time doing this!
I decided write this...umm...series of events from Rin/Len POV when listening to 'Paper Plane'.
Damn I'm getting sentimental.
It might not follow the whole story plot exactly,because I tweaked some parts.
Hints(or spoilers or whatever you want to call it):
Len has no space to sit because he is getting gassed.You know.the concentration camps.
I apologize if I offend anybody in any way through this work.
Rin and Len Kagamine belong to Crypton.
Preview image belongs to images2.fanpop.com
Words belong to me.
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She does a crab dance
while looking at those who swim
hoping that someone will understand
(no one usually does)
A small poem I came up with after an awkward phone call with my mom. I turned to tell my roommate and said, "I feel like a crab right now..." and this just came to mind! :XD: I feel that it describes my life all too well.

Constructive criticism and/or comments will be loved! :heart:

1.) Does the structure work with the poem's topic/theme?
2.) Is the word choice good?
3.) Is there anything I can do to improve this poem?
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Hello, and welcome to the Mental Health Hotline. 
If you are incisive compulsive, press  1 repeatedly.  
If you are co-dependent, ask someone to press 2 for you. 
If you have multiple personalities, press 3456. 
If you are paranoid, we know what you are and we know what you want. Stay on this line and we’ll trace your call. 
If you’re delusional, press 7 and your call will be transferred to the mother ship. 
If you are schizophrenic, listen close and the small voice will tell you what number to press. 
If you are depressive then it doesn't matter which number you press, no one will answer you. 
If you are dyslexic, press 69696969. 
If you have a nervous disorder, please fidget with the hash key until the beep. After the beep, please wait for the beep. 
If you have short term memory loss, try your call again later. 
And if you have low self-esteem, just hang up. All our operators are too busy to talk to you. *dial tone*


I stayed on the line, listened close for the small voice, after a while pressed 3456, then hung up, close to tears.


In other words, I have multiple personalities, am schizophrenic, paranoid, and have low self esteem. Please comment telling me what you have. ^^
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    “She still seems to be retreating.”

    “Do the doctors know what it means?”

    “Creatures, and monster, it’s all nonsensical.”

    “How long was she there for?”
    “Seventeen years.”

    The girl sat on her cot in silence.
    Nearly every inch of her cell wall was covered in dark markings. Some overlapped each other. Beasts with horns, and jagged teeth marched across the white backdrop. Words speckled the drawings in terrifying ways;
                                             “Father,” “Forgiveness,” “Sanctuary,” and “Eyes.”
    Nothing about the drawings themselves seemed right. Hatched from a mad mind, the monsters towered over small figures. Some, rabbits, others, what appeared to be a dog or wolf, and often, something with the likeness of a small human.
    The girl was sick.
    She stared at the walls, unseeing. Eyes dim, and hiding a brilliant flame.
    She had recently been given a black crayon and a few sheets of paper as a part of her treatment. She still refused to speak, but now she was, at last, communicating.
    The white walls of her small room quickly came to life. Gory scenes of blood and battles grew through the enclosure. In two weeks the room had been filled.
    The doctors payed little attention, laughing even. Telling each other that they were gibberish sketches, spilling out from the broken girl’s head.
    But they felt the drawings’ watching.
    Out of the corner of their eyes they would see movement, when the girl was fast asleep.
    They heard the beasts whisper.
    They had the voices of children.
Of one child; of her.
using this writing prompt, I used number 117: Drawings on the walls
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a piece from 2009 that I updated today in cs5

model is the lovely :iconpiratequeen-stock:

background is :iconloverzero:

the rest my own and purchased

Haiku by me:

trapped inside myself
caught by painful memories
wanting to break free

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ŠPhatpuppyart.com ([link])
[link]
[link]
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step one

cry.  scream.  bang your fists against the walls
that keep you locked inside.
kick your feet in the air.  tell your sister she's stupid
and wrong and that you've never loved her.
cry.  scream.  apologize via him to you.
let your tears catch on your lashes
until you can no longer see anything but your own
demise.  taste the bitterness left in
your mouth from your own bitching and rot in it.

step two

break a mug.  break two.  kick
the pieces around the kitchen floor and cry some more.
break a plate.  break a cup.  break a bowl.
break a finger because nothing can take away this
sort of pain.  you are empty and yet
you are filled with so much anger.
break a razor and paint pictures across your skin.

step three

you are okay, you tell them.
you break three days later and you lie
in bed, unable to move.

step four

start picking up the pieces.  clean up the mess
you've made and he's left.
use windex to polish off the dirt and
buff out the scratches while you are at it.
wash the carpet where the blood
stained and vacuum over it.  date someone else.
and when he takes advantage of
you wish on every fucking star in the night sky
that he would come back damnit please
come back.

step five

cry because that's all you do these days
is cry yourself a river.
and you just keep hoping that one day it'll take
you in its currents and drown you so that
you don't have to do it yourself.

step six

congratulations.
you're still broken, but it's okay because
just look at how mosaics are made.
you're beautiful if you're still breathing, baby.

hating life.
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Your life is a boat

Wandering the desolate seas.

Sunshine

Stillness

But then nothing.

Until the heavens open.

Lightning strikes

Thunder cracks.

The seas waves grow and grow

Hitting your mast,

What guides you

pulling you on your right path.

From beneath

In the dark deep waters

Lurks a demon.

A demon so big

It will swallow you whole.

Sink you

until your last dying breath.

The Kraken

Your worst enemy.

It will wrap its deadly tentacles around you.

Squeeze away your pleading scream.

The Kraken?

It's your life's worst enemy.

Death.
Image by Bob Eggleton - The Kraken (one of my favorite pieces of The Kraken.)
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this is true...the bruises will fade but the pain lasts forever
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