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Similar Deviations
Carl: Oh…hey…How did he get here?

Paul: Caaaarl, what did you do?!

Carl: Me? Uh, I didn't do this!

Paul: Explain what happened, Carl!

Carl: I've never seen him before in my life!

Paul: Why did you kill this person, Carl?

Carl: I do not kill people. That is…that is my least favorite thing to do.

Paul: Tell me, Carl, exactly what you were doing before I came home.

Carl: Alright, well…I was upstairs…

Paul: Okay…

Carl: I was uh…I was sitting in my room…

Paul: Yes?

Carl: reading a book…

Paul: Go on…

Carl: And, uh, well this guy walked in…

Paul: Okay…

Carl: So, I went up to him…

Paul: Yes…

Carl: And I…I stabbed him 37 times in the chest.

(Silence.)

Paul: Caaaaaaaaaaaaarl, that KILLS people!

Carl: Oh! Well, I didn't know that!!

Paul: How could you not know that?!

Carl: Yeah, I'm in the wrong here. I SUCK.

(silence)
Paul: What happened to his hands?

Carl: What's that?

Paul: His hands. Why—why are they missing?

Carl: Well, I kind of umm…cooked them up. And ate them.

(silence)
Paul: Caaaaaaaaaarl!!

Carl: Well, I—I was hungry. And well, you know, when you crave hands…

Paul: Why on earth would you do that?!

Carl: I was hungry for hands! Gimme a break!

Paul: Caaaaaarl!

Carl: My stomach was making the rumblies.

Paul: Caarl!

Carl: That only hands would satisfy!

Paul: What is wrong with you, Carl?!

Carl: Well, I kill people and I eat hands! That's—that's two things!
llamas with hats is not mine. it is Filmcow's awesomeness. ^^
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When I was young I made a friend.
She was kind of quiet-
a loner, like me.
She wore a long cloak of stars and melodies
that would wrap around us both when she got close.


As we got older
we became closer-
until she was all I could see.


She gave me words of comfort,
whispered when no one was around.
And I would hold her close,
Keeping her curled up inside.


Even when she was mean,
I would forgive her.
If she made me cry,
I would hold her closer.


We are never apart for very long,
though the people around us would try
and rip us from each other’s grasp.
She would simply disappear
for hours or days or months.
And soon she would sneak in my bedroom
with her cloak of starlight and music
and hold me in a lovers’ embrace.
This just... sort of happened.
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Hello, my name is Anna,
or "Blue" if you please.
I am a poet and so is,
Zach, Corbin, Harrison, and Kenji.
We have a passion,
a will to write,
and I don't think you have the right to stop us.
You say that we were just kids who searched for misery,
and you say that boys aren't fit to write poetry.
But those four men I just introduced,
are in my eyes so much stronger than you.
Yes I am a girl,
so call me a hypocrite,
but I'm finding it ironic,
that you think these men,
would have a problem with you.
Maybe you're the little boy inside,
look we get it, wont you just apologize?
Do you know how much effort,
that they put into their work?
I promise you,
that to me they're lifesavers,
They're believers, they're creators,
and all around life changers.
They take me away from this reality,
and pull me into their wonderful poetry.
I can't help but fall in love with their words on the paper,
losing myself in their iambic pentameter.
No matter what words you use or say,
you will never take that beauty away.
You say because they write they are not strong,
I have one thing to say to that, you're wrong.
They're proud of who they are, of what they write,
and they grace me with all of their brilliant insights.
So say what you say, but I've got some words of advice,
real men? They know how to write.

© 2012
Woo....I finally finished.

Here is my rant-like slam poem...

I was angry at how people say that boys shouldn't write poetry and how it's for depressed/angsty people who are downright sissies.

I hope you 4 that I mentioned don't mind that I used my names....you were just the 4 people I thought of. ^^It also just made the poem even more personal...:)

I hope I got the right message across.


(I know I don't always put this under my works but...please don't take them without my permission...^^)
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It was a warm summer night when I found her.
Her dress was white with yellow sunflowers,
and her auburn hair was spread out around her pale face.

It looked like an ever changing halo
moving gently in a soft breeze.

She had lost a shoe

Like Cinderella

Her deep, blue eyes stared into heaven
and the freckles of her skin drew constellations
against the pale background to mirror the stars above.

Fish gently nibbled at her fingers and nestled in her hair
paying no heed to her ruby lips which her last breath had left open
almost like an invitation.

I looked at her
fascinated

I loved her...

Thinking it was the least I could do
now that she had been so carelessly abandoned.
Forgotten
It was my duty to remember her.

I took the memory of her and stuffed it away
for safe keeping
The rest was just a shell
now empty and soon decayed.

Then I left
leaving only the pond behind to swallow its secrets.
A small poem that came to be last night, out of nowhere, after having been drinking way too many energy drinks. My mind went down a slightly macabre road, and I just followed and took notes! Comments, critique and criticism is always welcomed :D
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and i wonder what it feels like to be


alive.
-I don't know.
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i was a wildflower girl,
(battle the mountain,
savor the rain.)

but
2 am, this is when i miss you most, because
i,
i am not atlas,
i cannot carry the world
on my shoulders,
in the darkness,
in my shadows,

alone

so i will just tell myself
over

and over

and over

to hang onto
hope, because i have nothing left anymore, not even

the boy who tasted my name
like sucre on his lips, not even

the boy who knew
every inch of me
in the moonlight,
when i was still alive.
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I bite into an apple,
Hoping that it might grace me with
nectar.
The juice that runs down my chin
tastes
of apathy.
So. Tbh, I cant think of a title AT ALL.
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It was annoying, really, that Matthew Williams could be forgotten time and time again, but could never disappear when the bullies decided to pick on him.

The young Canadian held his glasses protectively to his chest, fearing that otherwise they’d be broken. It wouldn’t be the first time; the fragile frames always seemed to be the target of fists. Cruel laughter greeted him from every angle. He refused to cry, refused to show any weakness, not in that way.

Not that there was any truth to his desire to ‘remain strong’. He wasn’t strong to begin with. He never had been. Never would be.  Alfred was the strong one, not him.

A tear escaped him.

Suddenly a loud voice interrupted the mocking laughter. “Hey!” The shout was loud, angry, rang with a shockingly strong foreign accent. “You leave him alone!”

The first of the bullies glared at the approaching Italian. “Or what?”

Feliciano put his hands up, closing them into fists. Ignoring the laughter that was let loose at this movement, he growled, “Or I’ll kick your ass.”

Matthew couldn’t help but be worried for Feliciano. The Italian was very popular, but only with the girls. Most of the guys couldn’t stand him. These boys were no exception. They’d be the ones kicking ass, without a doubt.

“Oh yeah,” the boy sneered. “Like we’d be scared of a pussy like y-”

The Italian suddenly opened his eyes, revealing that they were a warm golden color. They were beautiful, Matthew realized. He wondered why Feliciano didn’t have his eyes open more often, with eyes like that.

“Ve?” Feliciano seemed confused as he pointed down the hall. “Why is that cheerleader walking around shirtless?”

All bullies turned. “Where?!”

Feliciano darted forward and grabbed the surprised Canadian’s hand. He forced the younger boy to his feet and dragged him along, escaping down the hall before the bullies had time to realize that there was no cheerleader, let alone a shirtless one.

______________________________________________________________________


They stopped at last, Matthew clearly exhausted. He wasn’t a runner, not like Feliciano. “H-Hey,” he panted. “Wh-Why did you-?”

Feliciano didn’t seem to be paying much attention. He looked worried. “I’m not used to yelling at people… that’s usually my fratello’s job. But I think I did alright…”

Matthew finally caught his breath. He tried again. “Feliciano.”

At last the older boy looked at him. “Hm? What is it Matthew?”

“I just-” He stopped. Looked at Feliciano with wide eyes.

Feliciano frowned a little. “What’s wrong?”

He blushed slightly. “I-It’s nothing.” Matthew ducked his head and looked shyly at his shoes. “I just… I didn’t know you knew my name.”

“Of course I do!” Feliciano chirped, grinning again. “You’re Matthew Williams. You won the hockey tournament last year. And plus we have like five classes together.”

“You noticed?”

“How could I not?”

“Well…”  Matthew trailed off uncertainly, looking up again and seeing that Feliciano was looking at him with eyes closed and expression confused. “Not a lot of people notice things like that. They usually overlook me.”

The Italian considered this, then nodded slowly.”Well you don’t talk a lot.”

He looked away, blushing again.

Feliciano seemed to notice the younger boy’s discomfort. He quickly backpedaled. “Although that’s really not saying much, because I never stop talking! It annoys a lot of people.” He laughed lightly.

Matthew smiled shyly at him. “I don’t think it’s annoying. I think it’s cute.”

Feliciano looked surprised. “Really?”

Matthew finally realized what he had said. His blush deepened and he looked away quickly. “W-Well I…” He swallowed. “…Yes.”

The boy beamed. “Well thank you Matthew. I think the way that you’re all quiet is pretty cute too.”

Eyes widened, Matthew looked back at the teen. “R-Really?”

“Sì! It’s very, very cute.”

The bell ran suddenly, startling them both. Matthew cleared his throat awkwardly. “W-We should probably get going to class.”

“Y-Yeah.”

He fidgeted awkwardly, then blurted out, “Thank you!”

“Hm?” Again, Feliciano seemed to be surprised. “What for?”

“For... For saving me. From the bullies.”

“Oh.” He resumed smiling. “You’re welcome.”

The two schoolboys went on their separate ways, both walking on air and trying to hide the evident blushes on their faces.

______________________________________________________________________


Here's a cute and fluffy MaplePasta story for my art trade with :icondeerrose6:.
 

This is my first time writing for this coupling - since I had never heard of it, before you asked for it - so I hope it turned out well!

______________________________________________________________________



And here's the sequel, as requested by :iconbutterflyichihara:.

guil-t-pleasurez.deviantart.co…

______________________________________________________________________

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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...
Hey, you. 

Yeah, you. 

You're beautiful.
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Love
is less about flowers
than it is
about Monday mornings,
when all the world
dreads the commute,
yet I
am eager
to share a space with you.

Some dream
of serenades and starlight,
and yet
I often find myself
lost
inside of mundane fantasies,
the simplicity
of your shower wet hair,
your sleepy-eyed
gaze.

Fingers fit
so snugly together
in dashboard light
like lips and hips
in the blue glow
of
satellite stereo screens,
where I
long to take you
again.

So many men
seek the perfection
of
wakeless dreams
that have no basis
in reality,
while I,
unlike most,
want to dive head first
into your
muddy waters
and become
tangled up in every complication
that is us.

My love --
you are the everything
I desire,
flaws and highlights,
every good
and all of your bad,
the sum
of a lifetime spent longing
for that
which only you possess,
and I
am not -ever-
going to give up on
Monday mornings,
or you,
or us.
I can feel it in mine, as assuredly you can feel it in yours.
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