Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login

Similar Deviations
Organized by Artist
Atlas shrugged
and you caught the Earth.
In the pause between breaths,
labored and pained,
you tried explaining
concepts of strength
while your bones creaked
and betrayed your bravado.

I will shoulder the world,
with you,
if you'd let me.

I've borne smaller globes
and understand the ache;
it's not to be carried alone.

And if I carry this with you,
perhaps we'd fall in step,
and roll this planet from your back
into orbit.
For a friend. :heart:
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

It comes and goes
like an unwelcome houseguest,
leaving me with messes I don't need,
and it never shuts the door
to keep the cold out.
I tried shutting off the lights
and closing the blinds,
twisting the key in the padlock
and boarding the windows,
but as long as light can
seep through the cracks,
this shadow will follow
and dig its fingers into my shoulders.
I bruise easily, it knows,
and it revels in watching
me shift in discomfort
while it grips me.
Like a ghost,
it won't let go.
Because, as someone told me, recovery isn't a straight line. But I know that hurt doesn't last forever, it can't.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

We built a beautiful pyre,
and in my heart,
I'm holding your hand as it burns.
The sparks could become the stars,
jewels in Orion's belt.

I'd lace my fingers through yours
in a final act of faith
while we stare down the smoke
cradling the moon,
and each piece of kindling
that crumbles in on itself
leaves me a little less broken.

The light flickers,
so do the corners of your lips.
We needed this.
Doing a bit better each day. =)
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

A HDR of a road at dusk. Used Canon T2I 550d with a old Olympus OM 50mm 1.8 lens.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

Chicks on the lose! Taken with the Canon T2i(550d)
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

Small flock of ducks. Taken with the Canon T2i (550D) with a old Sigma 80-200mm film lens.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

Love = fireworks, no?

It's meant to feel like fireworks exploding in your heart.
How come I can't feel my fireworks?
I can hear explosions coming from within your chest.
I can almost see the colours streaming from your soul.
Red, orange, purple, gold.
They are all there,
Waiting to be answered.
But I can't answer fireworks with fireworks,
when my heart is empty.
You don't deserve this.
You deserve someone who has all the fireworks in the world.
Someone whose heart would have an impressive fireworks display for you.
I could try,
I could try to light some fireworks and see if they will fly.
But what if it doesn't light?
What if it flies up a little bit and comes crashing down?
What if it lands on your heart and crushes you?
I don't want to hurt you.
Does anyone know a good fireworks shop?
Prompted greatly by a friend!

someone who loves you but you don't love back

Prompted by : ~Only-Another-Wraith

Thank you!
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

i just want to be o.k.
is that too much to ask?
i just want to feel someday
without a broken heart.
pretty self-explanatory.

tip of the day:
follow your hearts
even if it will crush someone -
otherwise you'll lose yourself.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

          I 'll walk in time. Count the beats in my head. Chase the rhythm of my heart. To love, I'll be led. From melodies and songs, And harmonizing sounds. Love's waves of music, Is where I'll be found.
The chorus of my new original song: Music = Love.

067. playing the melody

Hope you like it <3
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

My fingers hover over the keys,
That line just blinking.
I wait for the words to flow,
From my brain to my fingers tips,
But all that flow,
Are tears.

You brought me up to bring me down.
Don't get me wrong,
I thank you for your honesty,
I just wish i had known sooner.

Don't fool me round,
I'm no one second best.
If you have to hesitate,
I guess you never truly cared.

You said you loved me,
Made me believe.
Made me hope.
Maybe i wouldn't be forever alone.

I did,
And still do,
Rely on you way more than,
I am supposed to.

You say you love me,
Then you turn around,
Spin another story,
Spin what could be another lie.

How do i believe you?
Why should i believe you?
You've hurt me worse then,
Any one has before.

That shattering sound,
Is no glass,
Its my heart inside of my chest,
Realising what has happened.
Once again,
That its not worth it.

My fingers hover over the keys,
That line just blinking.
I wait for the words to flow,
From my brain to my fingers tips,
But all that flow,
Are tears.

At last i type,
Those few words,
That will help you,
And kill me.

"It's fine. I understand."
I don't want to talk about it...just had to write.


Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

Is it supposed to be like this?
Is it supposed to hurt THAT bad?
Am i supposed to feel,
like some one has reached in,
and ripped my heart out?

I'm no doctor,
But i think something is wrong.
I'm feeling pains so intense,
I swear i could faint.
Could you prescribe me,
Some medication,
To take the suffering away?

The anger i feel inside,
Is coming out as tears.
The pain i feel,
The hurt i feel,
Is coming out in ravaged sobs.

How do i stop this feeling?
How do i cure the pain?
How do i start to feel,
Alright again?

Oh don't you please,
Have some answers?

Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

Do you remember that time,
Way back when,
We would smile at the sight of each other,
And laugh in the sunshine?

Do you remember that day,
Sat in the middle of a city,
Yet we were completely alone,
Sat in our corner?
Where you bullied me for a while,
Used me as target practice,
Pinged elastic bobbles at me,
Laughing at my squeaks.

Remember the day,
That it poured with rain,
And i stuck my head under a waterfall?
Though you told me not too...
Then you hugged me when i realised,
That you were right,
And I was cold.

Do you remember the time,
We sat shivering under a ledge,
Till the rain stopped.
The ledge where you flipped your coin,
To find out if you were mine,
Or I yours?
Then those two people,
Came and sat near by,
They ruined the moment,
But hey,
They couldn't ruin us.

Do you remember running around the parking lot of Afflecks?
Running away from the security guards?
We found a quiet place,
And you held me close,
Like you truly cared,
And I honestly couldn't have been happier.

I remember the time,
I said I love you.
And you said I love you too.
And we argued about who said it first,
Was it me,
Or was it you.

I don't know if you do,
But I certainly can,
Remember the time you first kissed me,
And wrapped your arms around me,
Like I was the only one that mattered.

It's funny how such happy memories,
When they become the past and are looked back on,
Do nothing but fill one with sorrow.
For our time ended before it had really begun,
I'm sorry to say,
I miss you,
I miss your kisses,
And your sweet words.
I miss the good times,
I miss the smiles.

Sometimes happy memories,
Are the saddest thing of all.
A poem about my ex-boyfriend...
Uploaded by :iconfreakofnaturex:
Written by :iconjetblackheartxxx:


Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

You've been on my mind for quite some time
And I really can't do anything about it.

I watch you go through life day by day ,
You never knowing that all of what  you do I love it.

You smile at me,my life's complete as sad as it sounds,I can't avoid it.
You talk to me my heart it beats,I'm unable to slow it.

I don't know why,but you make me smile
and that's why I love you,

and that's the end of it.
Song for a friend :)
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

When you look in the mirror
Just say to yourself,
"I am nothing like the rest of them
I am no ones friend"

They try to tell you,over and over again,
That you're pretty too,But
You'll never believe them,

But that non-sense is true,
Honestly,they look plastic and fake
In your mind,that screams perfection.
While you are real and you have your
Beautiful imperfections.

Tell me why does beauty matter?
So much to you?
Its all societies fault
It is completely screwed
What happened to having brains?
To having a genuine heart?
What matters is more all
Beauty and glamour galore

But one bit of advice I give to you
Look in the mirror,
And admit it's true,
You're better than them all,
You're beautiful too.
You're beautiful too..
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

This is a dark place that I'm in
there's nothing surrounding me but four black walls
and I walk down the stone pavement on the floor
Looking for a source of light,
a source of life.

There's more and more nothing-ness the further I go
I keep imagining I see a light just a little while ahead
but as soon as I get closer
it disappears into the night.

It's lonely here
I feel isolated
I want to cry
I wonder have I died?

I feel a cold chill go down my spine
it makes me shiver like the leaves
on a tree on a cold autumn night
I want out of this place but there are no exits

I scream out "help!help!"
But I get no reply
I'm stuck here just me
and my mind.

I decide to lie down on the stone pavement
as I lay my head on the stones my mind begins to wonder
What am I doing here? Where are all my friends?

Suddenly I'm falling
into a crowded room
full of all my friends and family
and they all run to greet me

I'm surrounded my people I love but yet I still feel no love
I don't feel secure, wanted or even close to any of these people
I feel alone even though I'm surrounded by all these people
I feel like I just want to break down and cry

I feel like they all hate me
They all don't need me
What do I know,
This could be true

I feel so isolated but not by their choice
it's me I just can't accept these relationships
I always believe I'm better off alone
But I'm my best when I'm with them

My mind has taken over
It's really gone a bit mad
I have days I want to end it all
other days I just feel sad

I want to be happy
and I have full reason to be so
But for some reason my mind takes over
takes over and turns me insane.

My life is an empty space
in my eyes but in reality is a crowded room
I am blind to what is really there
I am too blind to even care

I'm feeling lost
and insecure
But no one can save me
No matter how much they try.
This poem is basically about my mindset sometimes. I sometimes get these feelings like I'm totally hopeless and un- love -able and I can't do anything right and I believe the best thing for me to do is to just end my life, but I always hop out of these feelings after a day or too. But it's really just how even though I have lots of friends supporting me and loving me I just feel so alone sometimes, and this is really what this poem is about.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

After The Rain

Soaked with holy rain
Of love you were making
To the shell that contains
The real me

Enraptured by your face's reflections
Gleaming in puddles resting
On my country's torso
I can't tell where you end

And I begin
Nor where these tears come from
And where sweet moments go to
When they say farewell

To what you left in me
And what you took away
Out of drawers
Those I didn't know I had at all
romantic mood :frail:

kindly featured by :spotlight-left: :iconmrs-freestar-bul: :spotlight-right: in her journal :bulletpink: [link] :bulletpink:
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

A Vision

Celibacy of thoughts
Hurts mind just like broken glass
From violated window panes
Makes sore feet bleed in extasy
When all the effort put into
Melting sand and cooling it
Is turned to waste
By just one kiss of
An eager stone

On a million perfect flaws
Of what once was
A single flawless perfection
Disturbed dreams dance
Celebrating tomorrows
Those will never come
While shameless innocence
Is patiently laying herself
Down to sleep
another one for DOMINIC :]

featured by :spotlight-left: :iconmrs-freestar-bul: :spotlight-right: in her journal :bulletpink: [link] :bulletpink:
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

The Golden Feather

Midsummer nights revive old tales
And magic long forgotten
Mayflies above the lake play scales
Clouds reflect fields of cotton

Cool soothing breeze tangles the hair
Of green carpets on meadows
Where butterflies and poppies share
Kisses nestled in shadows

So lightly, barely touching ground
There hand in hand walk lovers
Two hearts by velvet sunset crowned
Reign over fragile flowers

Like ancient phoenix earth is burned
Each evening in sun's tether
For us, fools, meant to crave and yearn
Stays love - a golden feather
:heart: this poem is dedicated to my dear friend PRITHVI and his beautiful fiance SINDHUJA who are going to get married on February 24th :iconlainloveplz:
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

Its inner and outer beauty are one,
and it wakes up my eyes to see,
for me and others, that so are ours.
Only I'm not yet strong enough to let that truth
completely enter in where it should and bloom from there,
yet it still makes me smile,
and so many things start with a smile.

I imagine it has stored up so many blown kisses;
I imagine the light of our love for it
gives it more light than the sun.

When it's going down
it's like a million diamonds
acting like children,
running frantically everywhere,
with an extra helping of innocence and joy on top.

For me
The lights have turned off,
as they often do,
but then comes that honest spark
giving me a helping hand,
touching so tenderly without trying,
and showing me that hand choking the life out me,
my hand;
it all is vividly clear,
and I put my hand down,
and start anew.

It's not on magazines;
it doesn't wear make-up,
but it's perfection,
and a gift to almost all the senses.

A waterfall proves there's beauty even when you fall.

Keep trying!
Well, here it is. I kinda thought I should wait on this and work on it more, but I haven't uploaded a new writing in a while, and I miss comments and faves lol, so again, here it is!
I got the inspiration for this from watching a YouTube video with relaxing music and nature[link] I could possibly be rusty on this one, idk.
Please comment!:heart:
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

She looks so pretty
in the sun rays of a blessed afternoon.
The breeze has a soft touch
on her skin of flawlessness.
Her voice is a Mozart sonata,
and for her the word perfect is an understatement.
We need sunglasses for the height of her radiance.
No one will look away;
she's cursed to be in the gaze of thousands.
But then my heart falls when I wake up from that dream.

Yes, none of that was real,
and pretending it is
is death.
I must change.

I turn the pages of my diary,
in hopes that writing in it will be
like a purification,
to everything that is within that I want to be without.

What I then wish for is to go on as myself,
and to see everything and everyone,
not with rose colored glasses,
but just as something with value;
in a word the truth.

The true beauty of life
is being who you are,
and being happy with who you are,
also to smile and mean it,
so smile and be your own sunshine.
Like "Waterfall Hope" I think I should have worked on this more, but I miss faves and comments!!:D I know, I gotta stop doing that, but here it is! I wrote this months ago and let it build up on my notebook.
Please comment!:)
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

Before my chipped wings disintegrate, they do sob.

The path that I thought led to a light
has brought me back to this barren desert.
My dreams of learning, growing and staying strong
are fading away.
Everything I'm made of screams;
I say I don't hear it, but I know I do
because of that place inside that always speaks the truth;
where not even a lie you've forced yourself to believe
a million times can hide.

The black, empty, cold night;
I could write thousands of fascinating words about it,
and somehow it describes me in a way I'm not entirely sure how,
but I stare at it; somehow I see my fate: dark but still beautiful
in a deep and, again, fascinating way.

Though I barely believe it, I am deeper and more complex than I think;
I just need that strength, which is not yet something I'm rich in.
The light of hope and possibility shines only on the strong

Closed eyes, while thinking,
trying to find something that is....true I guess,
but it doesn't come.
I now reach out to grab one of the many words floating around me
in an attempt to put miracles on this sheet of paper.

Beauty and pain come at me; I don't want the pain,
but this is the pain that makes you stronger,
so don't look away, it's good for me, I need this.
Change I must, and remember what the "Black Birds"
and the lonely night taught me.
And please path, lead to light this time.

Before my chipped wings disintegrate, they do sob tears of joy.
Well, here's a poem I wrote yesterday; hope it's not horrible; it's just me speaking my mind.
"Black Bird" is capitalized because I'm referring to "The Beatles" song; it was a very meaningful song to me. Please tell me what you all think could be better for this poem and what I shouldn't have done. And it took a while to get used to deviantArt's new submitting setup.
Anyway, please comment.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

i don't really know
how i got here.
it's all a blur
from the time i
was able to think
about who i
really was
or am.

i never got why i'm
so clingy
and clueless,
why i don't know
how to be
my exterior may
show it,
but i sure don't
have it.

i've been gone
for a really long time.
it's not me that
they see when they
speak things
that I pretend to
care about.
it's my vacated
carcass that is already
hollow and sad.
every trivial thought i
have echoes and
bounces off the
walls of my shell.

i'm just a poster child
for the underdog in all
of us losers.
i'm not a poser,
i'm just trying to get by
without getting hurt.
it's a novel idea
if you think real hard.

i guess i'm a cadaver.
i'm only a figment
of myself.
i created this
sense of being tough
so people would give
me more respect.
but it backfired
people don't
care about
a girl who begs
for someone to
simply call

to be honest,
my existence isn't
none of ours is.
we're just here
because we
were lucky,
so why bother
searching for a
purpose when we
all have a demise
waiting for us?

i'm empty.
i truly am a
blank canvas,
and i wasn't always
i am only scarred
with eraser marks
and tears in the
sheet because
all the decisions
worth making are
far past their prime.
anything worth
fighting for, isn't
and anything we
try to bring to the
back burner, is.

i am fear.
i am the epitome
of that shaking
feeling we get when
we're overwhelmed
with any kind of
i am what most
people say is a
but i'm not a coward.
i'm a realist.

i've got that
tingle in my bones
that makes me
remember that i
do have a heart,
and that sharp
stab in my head
that reminds me
my mind still works.

i look to you
for inspiration.
can you please
help me to find me,
because i've tried so
hard to find her
myself, but she just
doesn't want to be
a part of me.
if you see her,
bring her back

bring her back
home, but don't
bring back her
anger, or her
misery, or her
lack of life
or love to give.
bring her back
being able to
love someone.

i often forget i
have yet to feel
a sunshine so warm
that I can feel myself
optimizing just
from the pure heat
and light
that should be entering
my soul,
but my body just
doesn't know how
to permeate in the
and immerse
myself in the hot
white power.

i don't know
how i can fix me,
this me that has been
a zombie to the
trade of indifference i
have enslaved
myself to.

i don't know
how to change
this deep blue that
i have drowned in,
this depression
that i don't know
how to get rid of.
sometimes i think i've
lost it but it always
comes back.
i want it to go away,
but i don't want to
leave with it.
i don't know if
it's clinical, but it's painful.

all i can do to be
free from this
invisibility is to find me.
i want you to help me
to find me.
...I guess this is just a little something I whipped up. Maybe a possible submission, a definite presentation. :3
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

There's a difference between darkness and nothingness. Darkness is being a temporary resident of rock bottom, a shadowy state of melancholy that's only motivated by the fact that you can only go up from there. Dark can be converted to light, slowly but surely, so that we have a glimmer of hope. Nothingness? It's being totally numb to the reality surrounding you. It can only be reversed if you put your entire soul into making something out of nothing. Trust me, I would know.
I didn't have a bad home life. In fact, my family was one of the strongest I had known at the time. I got reasonably good grades, barely ever faltering on an exam. I even had a few people I called my friends, who I thought would stick with me for the longest while. That was when I, an eleven year old girl whose parents sheltered her as well as they could, was introduced to the online universe of cyber-bullying. Soon, after my peers put up this façade of courage on the Internet, the assumed culprits began to bring this into reality. Paranoia began to set in, and the cowardice I had succumbed to online followed me into the real world, defensive beyond belief.
Suicide was an option. Sure, it was only one choice, but the decision was not one that should have been crossing the mind of a mere middle-school student. Shortly after the bullying worked its way into my actual life, I took it upon myself to keep journals. They were like normal diary entries, addressed to the paper figment I thought would help my problems. The only difference I had in my heartfelt words was that I asked questions. Not rhetorical ones like, "can you believe that," or, "isn't that so unfair?" I asked things that I needed answers to, not the consolation of putting it down in ink, things that should not have been coming out of my pen. "Is my existence really that important?" "Do people actually like me?" "Should I take my life?" Looking back, I'm genuinely frightened by how deep I had fallen into the morbidity of self-hatred. I was scared of myself.
I have vivid remembrances of the cutting, sitting alone at the foot of my bed. The room is barely lit, some loud music blaring in an attempt to mask my many fearful screams and yelps. I favored bass-bumping techno and the hoarse screeches of screamo tracks. Light from my radio's neon blue wiring bounded off my slanted ceiling, an almost alien appearance. The dim gleam of a dull pair of scissors or a hardly sanitary push-pin would always do the trick. I remember grazing the first object over my pale forearms, blood sneaking through the broken skin, pinkish raised lines patterning them when I woke the next day. On several traumatizing occasions, I would experience nightmares, but I guess to a masochist they're just plain old dreams. I remember picturing it; I had severed too far into my frail flesh and bled out into a puddle of black-red crusted blood, caked in the gashes of my wrists. My skin was like papier-mâché, fragile and ripping like a bit of apricot tissue paper on my crackling bone. This was a regular habit for me, like someone biting their nails or twirling their hair. I scratched the skin's surface with enough pressure to burn and bleed, squeezing out a few tears, but lightly enough to not appear suspicious when I didn't wear long sleeves. I was a brilliant plan, really.
When I was in seventh grade, I had perfected this act of hiding my scars until the torment of my peers just became too much to bear. The words people threw at me were vulgar and angry, fueled by an extreme distaste for me. I was deemed a whore, a slut, and a liar. In actuality, I was an honest virgin. I was called a lesbian and an idiot, when I had a steady boyfriend at the time and maintained honor roll all year. People referred to me as a loathsome pig and a fat cow. However, the most hurtful was just one word: ugly. I knew I was plain. I knew I was overweight. I even knew I had a crooked nose and bushy eyebrows, but that's an insult of character in reference to an unattractive personality. People began to gossip and avoid me intentionally, so I began to fade away as a mute being sitting in the desk right near the door. The only sounds I emitted were the answers to questions teachers forced me to answer and the whistling of air through my nostrils. I walked alone in the hallways, and as I brushed past my classmates, I either saw looks of contempt or looks of pity. This went on for a while, until the plan itself disintegrated around me. The jig was up. I needed professional help.
The unraveling of my suicidal tendencies began to make its way to the forefront of my life during a class exercise. People knew me as a violent person because that was the only trait they wanted to believe was true of me. We were discussing bullying in my period six-seven Middle School Issues course, a mandatory class that was futile because ninety-five percent of middle school kids are issue-free. In this discussion, we had to pair up with up a partner and conduct a skit about how bullying was wrong. There were an odd number of kids. Guess who was alone. Naturally an outcast, I instead crafted a letter of terror I endured. It was nothing eloquent, really. It was enough, however, to get me a one-way ticket to the guidance office.
After countless visits to the small room, as well as a large portion of psychiatric help, I gained one sliver of confidence and the interpretation that I actually had some sanity. I was extremely damaged, but it's not like I was unable to be saved. I tried so hard to turn my life around, not for my loved ones, not for my peers, but because I was tired of living solely in a state of nothingness. My nothingness was now something, a little something, but nonetheless a something. I could nourish and grow it. I could change my life for good.
I went back to read those journals from several years ago. My wants and needs were so selfish, like I thought a flimsy notebook's yellowed pages could be seen by God, who could grant me the happiness I deserved. I realized these "letters," these journal entries were subconsciously written because I was alone in the world, crying out so desperately for someone to hear me, for someone to exhibit to me that everything would be okay. It was like I was trying to reach out to someone I knew couldn't hear me, but someone could. No one could see my scrawl on the faded blue lines of the composition book, but it was visible to God. The reason he didn't help me because the Lord's no Kevorkian. He wasn't going to assist me in a death wish when he put me here in the first place. My presence was apparently beneficial if my soul refused to be taken.
It's sort of like an out-of-body experience. I remembered seeing a white light once in my sleep, and I knew I had to be here to help kids that were how I used to be. Okay, it sounds a little sketchy, but it's the truth. Without even knowing it, I wrote a correspondence to God and instead of writing back, he kept me alive. It's that darkness versus nothingness thing again. Once I saw that light, I knew I crossed over from being nothing to finding the worth I so greatly sought after. The scars have since faded and have been replaced with ink emblems. A chapped, bitten frown has been turned to a smile. Most importantly, though, the nothing has turned into something.
Scholastic submission. Memoir. FTW.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

i never really liked
making eye contact.
i was never fond of having
my soul bore into by
twenty-something pairs of orbs
in the audience.
but it's a lot different
when it's only one person.
i was always shy.
you even told me i was
timid, that i appeared
too quiet, i should be
more social, you said.
your eyes are so breathtaking.
they're nothing special,
just normal hazel eyes,
they're just expressive.
your eyes have so much emotion,
potential brewing inside, tears
never seem to be released
because your eyes are always
glassy and gleeful, i'm glad
that you're happy.
i used to light up
every time i locked glances
with those eyes, my heart
would nearly skip a beat
in excitement, but now?
it's different.
now, every time i lock glances
with you, you look for all of
three seconds, then turn away
like i'm just that ugly,
do i look diseased to you?
am i that unimportant that you
feel like you have the
audacity to not even grant me
the common courtesy to smile
when i see you staring?
i know you are because when i
look back, you're still
standing, but you look
some other girl's way,
how dare you go after somebody
else when you know
how fragile i am.
when i see you, my heart speeds
up, i'm angry, upset and lonely
all at once when i see you,
i shouldn't want anything to do
with you, but i want closure.
i just want to mend it
before i fall off the edge,
your eyes meet mine.
my soul is aching.
my mind is raging.
and my sadness?
well, it's growing.
all thanks to you.
i could see any other part
of you and not feel any
sentiment, any romanticism,
any attachment i may grow.
it's only in your eyes.
they're the window to your
soul, i can see who you are,
not like those other girls
who only see a body, i see
a boy whose eyes i appreciate.
maybe you should look into mine
and try to reciprocate
the feeling. don't need to understand it.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

The wind carries meaning. As it picks up, reach your branches into it. Let it's force cause you to sway. Shed your dead leaves until there is nothing left. Keep rising up into the sky, and keep digging those roots deeper. Float on a sea of whatever it is that it may be, flying so free, in your mind completely blind to see the sight of things...
Some people swerve through life wearing thin spots into their souls while trying to suck the souls out of others. Eventually, this will rest on their conscience. The rest of the world will look like an angry mob coming for them. If you gamble with the devil, you will lose every time.
Careless souls suffer. Whether it be a sign of a new day or just a passage of time, what you harness has the ability to pick things up, to possess your soul with light. So is the plight of the being.
this is.... different. definitely different.
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

im comin back as drastic as a relapse attack of a bad 'have to have it' habit
you can't escape the fact that you can't shake it and thats the power of its magic
changin the earth up in this piece isnt worth the stress if there is to be no release
and loudmouths blabbering with their hands out is no reason for me to aim to please
so this shit MUST cease....... i live to believe that something has got to give
i'm convinced the definition directly relates to whether or not it is intuitive
but in its truest sense, there exists no questioning at all of any of this
and thats why i dont defend myself when it comes to any of this
the moral implications of hittin the floor will shake up the picture with more complex complications than ever before
you can not ignore the fact when it's in your face and you step back and then brace for impact cuz you taste it
its bitter, the burn of harsh reality vs. shards of broken fantasies will hardly bring back what is actually happening...
unfinished... but i had to share it
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

-choose your words slyly, cuz it's whatever.
it's one letter and it's better than never.
second-guessin' expressions can go on forever,
but only the clever can hold up in this endeavor....
-and if you cant handle the weather,
if you cant remember the rain bein' wetter,
drippin' onto the windows longer than
God meant for Mother Earth when he blessed her,
-just relax and sit back... first, reflect on some thinGs.
matter of fact, take a nap, get a restful nights sleep.
(thinking right completely blindsides when sleeping,
see, leading to discreetly finding real meaning....)

-common misconceptions aren't always the best to get;
if you can't follow the definition, don't swallow the rest of it.
the words will get hotter with the fire your confusion lit,
*but the burn doesn't bother if it was right to begin with... ←
Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.

Add a Comment:
No comments have been added yet.