Depression and I are Fuck BuddiesWhen 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.
End of a long day.I’m tired.End of a long day.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Maybe I should go
And lay down
Searching for you again in my dreams
It’s been too long
Since we met last
I’m chasing you
Like a shadow
Sometimes you’re there
Sometimes I’m all alone
Left out in the light
Without anything to hold on to
Doubting if this thing is really true
You’re like a wild animal
It’s impossible to tame you
You come only when you like
Stay only as long as needed
To remember me I’m still here
Bringing the breath of life back into my dusty bones
I wish you’d stay
Be on my side for all days
Because without you
I feel I’m nothing but a passing shadow
In a world of blackness.
Depression - What It Is InsideTrapped and enclosed,Depression - What It Is Inside1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
It can't be exposed.
It knows all we're taught,
and contradicts every word.
We become it's biggest addict.
It has no faith.
It has no love.
It comes too late into the age,
And chokes all who feel it hang,
To evict us from our home.
Without a fault.
Without a soul.
It's nothing we should know.
Guilty of sitting alone,
Unworthy of what others deserve.
No need for fears,
No need to pretend.
Only a desire to disappear.
Don't reach for the brightest hand,
Just crawl away.
This idea of none,
To some a magicians hoax.
Without a friend for fun,
The thought will never come,
To those who never know.
It forever persists,
It will never leave.
While we can't be saved,
And with nothing to be,
At our core we're not gone.
Murder your PoemMake your poem suffer,Murder your Poem1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
it needs to know how you feel.
And if it doesn't, your poem is ignorant.
Gouge the pen deep within it, until bloody ink stains through.
Write very hard
so your poem can feel your scars.
If you crinkle the corners,
it needs to have broken tattered bones.
Feeling exhausted before your done.
Do not share or post your poem so soon,
for it needs to feel rejection.
Most important, before it dies.
Clean it's wounds, or tape its rips,
do no accept forgiveness..
As your poem dies, you'll be surprised.
Your dead withered poem,
AfraidIts not irrationalAfraid1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
It is not stupid
Everyday is a battle
For this, I'm not suited
I am tired of fighting
These feelings, these urges
It should be exciting
But against my walls of iron, it surges
I want to have someone
Without these fears
Of this life, I've begun
I had many tears
Pain, misery, and no trust
Are my only experience
My heart is covered in dust
From only a few instances
I want to be nestled
Close to a person's heart
But everyday I wrestle
I just don't want to hurt
The CageI've done it, really, done, for real!The Cage1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I cannot express how I feel.
His wretched soul, his frozen heart,
A morbid, dying, work of art.
What I did next, was not my plan.
Insanity. The fall of man.
I bound his hands and bound his arms,
I really meant, to him, no harm.
I cracked. I snapped. I lost my mind.
His soul, this...this husk, the perfect find.
I took a knife, I claimed my prize.
Gauged out both his cretinous eyes!
The screams, the screams! They were so thrilling!
I could not stop my torpid killing!
I grabbed his face, cut out his tongue!
Across the stagnant air it flung.
Walls now red in every room
I sent unto this man his doom.
I could not stop my curséd rage,
It's my burden, a small cage.
Dying WorldWhen a young boys,Dying World1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Blood does run,
In his hands,
A loaded gun.
When a young girl,
Screams for mum,
As she is pulled,
Into a van.
When the elderly,
Are targets of ridicule,
From the hooligans,
With spiteful tongues.
When the newborn,
Have no chance,
Cause our world burns,
With each new dance.
See the dusk,
Of the age of man,
Stand beside me,
Beneath burning sun.
Murder Me With ImageryPlease write me a poem.Murder Me With Imagery3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Please, won't you please?
Paint pictures with your words.
Make me fall to my knees.
Dot your I's like bullet wounds,
As my lifeblood leaks.
Cross your T's like switch blades,
Cut my throat with ease.
Stop my breath with your metaphors,
Make my heartbeat cease.
Let the concussion of your verse,
Make me rest in peace.
Steal my soul with each pen-stroke.
It shall be your masterpiece.
one.i wish you knew how muchone.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
of a killer you made me into -
but you'll never know,
- because you're already dead.
of deviantARTists and those who browseThey call us usersof deviantARTists and those who browse1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
for a reason, now let me
get my daily fix
I've lost faith in you if you haven't caught onwell you have seen this before,I've lost faith in you if you haven't caught on1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
some page of my poetry laying naked
on your computer or phone screen
like some discarded x-file.
and you read the lines greedily,
wondering if maybe, just maybe
I am writing about you
and I am.
You smile at that because you know
that you have my words tied between your fingers
and you could set them loose if you wanted to.
You like the control.
You could shut off your computer screen,
turn off your phone
never message me back and
it would not make a difference.
These files will still be here,
my thoughts and your thoughts still
clouding the windshield of my head
and we will still never be together.
Deceiver.Rip out my heart,Deceiver.1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And blind their eyes,
Show them your truth,
Feed them with lies.
Deceive my emotions,
Throw me to the ground,
My importance to you,
Is nowhere to be found.
Make me listen,
Do not let me express,
Your mind is divine,
And mine is much less.
Demonic eyes of death,
Angelic smile of life,
Pure hands that clean,
The blood off your knife.
Façade of light,
Hides your darkness,
Making them believe,
You only mean kindness.
The sound and the silenceThe sound of a heart breaking is not like glass shatteringThe sound and the silence3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it's a loud, roaring scream of despair
and then silence
for the longest time, all there is, is silence.
But slowly, slowly a beat returns.
Faint, unsteady and fragile.
Like the tentative flutterings of a baby bird's wings, as it learns to fly.
So afraid of falling.
But slowly, slowly, the beat gets louder.
Like a drummer in a marching band.
Nervous and hopeful.
The sound of a heart beating again is like a soldier being welcomed home.
Covered in scars, but happy again.
Ready to face whatever lies ahead.
They Hate Me Because I'm A Writer.They hate me because I’m a writer, because I don’t live in their world.They Hate Me Because I'm A Writer.1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
They hate me because I can so easily detach myself from this painful reality, with just the type of a key or stroke of a pencil.
I plan scenarios that they’ve never thought of, heard of, nor dreamed of. I use characters as pieces of a puzzle, or cards in a game, throwing them through obstacles that are unimaginable.
I create worlds that make macabre look as welcoming as light, and agony taste as sweet as sugar.
I will twist you and cause you to question your own humanity.
When you step into my universe, you will never be the same.
If you choose to stay, I may engulf you in my horrors,
And if you choose to leave, you will find that it will be hard for you to fully escape me.
It’s your choice to hate me, and scorn me for not being like others.
It’s your choice to come with me, and become my companion, an equal ruler of this world I have created.
The Last EnemyThe Last Enemy 6/5/14The Last Enemy11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
You cannot see it,
but it is always there.
It follows you wherever you go.
Taunting - teasing - bearing
its metallic teeth - waiting.
Ever so patient,
like a stalking sentry.
Always looming in the
background of your thoughts.
You cannot run or shun
its powerful hold.
At anytime it can attack -
relentless in its pursuit.
Like a shadow with ill intent -
all its will is bent
toward one thing.
As a claw that slowly scratches
down your back leaving chills behind.
Hot breath on your exposed neck
imparts an imprint on your haunted hallucinations.
It is unavoidable and indifferent.
It knows no mercy or rival.
A frosty breeze that freezes your blood -
making your hair stand on end.
There is no light in this endless night.
There is no waking from this demented dream.
I am frightened till my last desperate breath.
There is no escape from our last enemy - Death!
Writer's blockThe pencil lies idly next to the notebook.Writer's block2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
The icon on the computer screen blinks almost in a mocking fashion, the keys gathering dust.
That notebook is opened to a fresh page, not a letter or eraser shaving on it.
That computer is opened up to a new document, again, no words on it, not even the use of undo or redo as a sign that maybe something was once there.
And there's not a damn thing I can do about it.
I can think of few things in this world that are as frustrating.
HurtThe murmuring...Hurt1 year ago in Emotional More Like This
I hear them everywhere.
Talking about me, and them...
Making me insecure.
I can't handle that.
They don't know that...
I've been bullied by someone I used to know already.
I don't want to be bullied by others too...
they're passed down as I just cry on.
I just keep everything to myself,
thinking that if I'll just keep it to myself,
I'll be fine.
"Only rainbows after rain,
the sun will always shine again.
So you gotta keep your head up."
Is my motto.
Do you think this will help?
That I'll be happy?
This helps me realize,
that maybe keeping it in,
won't help a lot.
Maybe. Just maybe,
I'm not the only one who has this problem too..
Suicidal BreathsWith a decrease in energy,Suicidal Breaths1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Fatigue, sick-to-stomach and feelings of mortality,
She still survives,
Though she buries herself in broken lies.
She says she's fine,
She's just okay,
But deep down inside,
She's full of sorrowful pain.
She believes what she hears,
And avoids what she sees,
Feeling the sad, pity, indescribable beliefs.
She sits in a corner full of isolation and guilt,
Darkness and ache,
Counting the pills she spilled.
White and Blue,
Just one more.
Vision becoming blurry,
She's shaky and becoming worried.
Looking in a reflection,
Ribs soon distinguishable,
Bones and fright just popping out,
She screams inside and yells for help.
No one's around,
She can't hear a subtle sound.
She pleads to why she's on this earth,
Why her mother had to give birth.
She falls to the ground,
Blending into the darkness of the unspoken place,
She cries and cries,
Soon she'll be erased.
An Artist Without Paper or a Pen.If a picture says a thousand wordsAn Artist Without Paper or a Pen.1 year ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
how many of those are lies?
And if I could see them all
would I even mind?
I look without a hope to touch.
An artist without a canvas or a brush.
That's the difference between now and then.
An artist without paper or a pen.
If the eyes are windows to the soul
what does it mean when they're broken?
And if I could say it all
that would go unspoken.
I speak without a word to say.
An artist's landscape at different times of day.
And that's the difference between blindness and sight.
An artist without eyes, or a light.
If the pen is mightier than the sword
how many lives has the pen took?
And if I could keep score
will we need books?
I say it all without a hope to act.
An artist without a chisel or an axe.
That's the difference between hope and what comes next.
An artist without an eraser or a subject.
Unable to draw it out.
Can't even write it down.
Finding it hard to believe in
all my minds been weaving.
Imperfect WriterWords are written in a fluid motion.Imperfect Writer2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The thoughts are rushing; there’s so much commotion.
Cramps arise from within my wrist.
The story continues on without a murderous twist.
Stress has crept along my back,
For there’s something I believe I lack.
I can see the blood, the horror, and the hate.
But I cannot find whatever I expected would be great.
Every time there’s something missing,
Something that I don’t believe I’m overanalyzing.
So, I add and add and add until I find a fit,
But the unknown stretches to Beyond and I lose it.
Therefore, I make it all new again and again.
It all starts over, though, and I know I cannot win.
I dread the day when the unknown will consume everything whole,
And I’m left with another unfinished goal.
I’m an imperfect writer; that much is true.
But I’m not alone; you’re with me, too.
We, writers, all have been cursed,
For the good and for the worst.
Our thoughts are contaminated with lies,
And they expand
MonsterI'm the monster.Monster1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
No, I don't need to hide under your bed,
inside your thoughts is good enough for me.
Only help will make me go away,
and I make sure you don't get it ever.
I come when your full of high spirits,
and push you down into a pit of despair.
Sometimes, I leave and make you
feel the cold numbness you despise.
You'd rather hurt then be numb,
and welcome me back.
Only the strong ones can shake me off,
and continue on their right path;
instead of the bad one I've created for you.
Ode To Writer's BlockStaring at the piece of paperOde To Writer's Block2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Without the faintest idea
Of what to write, I sit
In my chair, pencil not moving
Madness gaining another step
I wonder how many mornings
Or perhaps it was evening time
When Frost sat down to write, that he-
Spent staring at the empty page
Clueless about subject matter
Writer's block, such bloody torment
Making a wanker out of me
Always appearing at my door
At a most inconvienant time
What a terrible patron
If Life Is An OceanIf life is an ocean, then I’m in the deepIf Life Is An Ocean1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And the ocean is made of the tears that I weep.
The waves are the troubles that crash o’er my head,
Sinking me, soaking me, wishing me dead.
If I am a boat, then I’m searching for shore,
But the lights of my beacons don’t shine anymore,
And the stars keep on shifting to change their design,
So I’m no longer sure which direction is mine.
If no man is an island, then I am bemused
For my friends have all left me alone and confused,
And my only companions are all the debris
Of my troubles that gather to barricade me.
If the whole world is flat, then I stand at the edge
To search for a sign lurking just past the ledge
That I might make a change in my future’s design
If I stay here and wait, than jump over the side.