Kyle Broflovski by acciosnitch on DeviantArt

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Promoted Deviations

Literature

Inside colour.

When I cry. Man, do I cry. I'll be honest. I'm an ugly crier. Face all wet, with snot bubbles bursting everytime I sniff. Phlegm choking every breath I struggle to speak. Exhaling with such force that my lungs weaken, leaving minimal strength to grasp in air. Almost to stutter profusely in repetition. Like many others, I do it secretly, away from the public. Not in fear of the mess I become, but only to avoid more judgement. Sometimes a man breaks. Try not to kick him when he's down. Because he will get back up. But no longer as a fighter. Never again as a fighter. So don't expect to see the same man. While his mind battles to reinforce shivered walls with sticks and pebbles. He is now fixated on having them higher and thicker. A structure no longer to serve as protection. Only to dampen the blows, for the next day. The next wave. The 'I'm fine', is automated. It's an effective attack that casts a distraction to allow him to keep building. On his own. For some, darkness

Literature

serein

Somewhere, the room keeps breathing even after we leave it. A chair turned slightly toward another, light folding itself into the seam of the floor. It reaches out and the air already remembers the shape of your hand where it rests open. What is doesn’t vanish; it learns another cadence, slower, softer at the edges. We meet there sometimes, not to rewrite the sky, only to stand where the quiet gathers. And let the dream remain gentle enough to hold— present.

Literature

Femuary: She Wept By The Cradle

Tansall stared down at baby Eira, lying in the cradle that her infant son had died in, swaddled in the same cloths that had once kept him warm. She had washed the cloths since then, naturally, but it still unnerved her. Just as it unnerved her whenever she put Eira to her breast and let her nurse on milk that Tansall had produced for another baby. Had the circumstances been different, Tansall might have been able to better cope with this arrangement. But to lose her child and have another foisted on her in the same night, without even being permitted to properly mourn the loss of her own was almost too much for her to bear. That and what the mysterious lady had said, that Eira would be hers to raise, but the lady would one day return to prepare the girl to fulfil some bargain Tansall did not wish to understand. What Tansall did understand, however, was that she was essentially Eira’s wetnurse, and that the baby she fed at her breast and rocked to sleep each night would never be truly

Suggested Deviants

purplecuriosity

Literature

Fixation

Time is temporary, but baby you’re, eternal.

Literature

The Little Things

A land needing love, craves flowers and doves; the little things that leave, an impact.

Literature

Blank

A baby, is born, a blank canvas, with a future he, or she, is left to mold.

DavidTarr

Literature

37. Little Child's Eyes

One day, Little Child had to see If the one he loved lived in glee. Having her sight where his had been: He saw her living on an ocean.He saw her alone on a raft, In her hand: her heart, cut in half! And with swords where her soul had been, He saw her living on an ocean.He saw her where the air was dead, And where all joy would turn to dread. Trapped in a place he'd never been, He saw her living on an ocean.

Literature

The Broken Child

Pathetic and weak, Little Child discerned when the strength in him turned to goriness. Though in dreams he'd act in ways she deserved, Child could not protect his treasured princess. In reality, princess was threatened, Little Child struggled to guard her Heart through the terrible war that raged--unreasoned-- ending in breaking them both; Despair grew. Clutching on to life, fending off frostbite, he endeavored to bring her to safety. Bliss will not be withheld from a princess. Endlessly tried by fiends and parasites, He'll strive to keep her hopeful and lofty; Always to smother oncoming grayness.

Literature

The Guilty Child

Little Child he was, Only sixteen years Very young compared to Everyone on Earth. Soon, he Will be welcomed to the Inside of a Lost World. Lonely he will be, to Carry only memories Of his family Nothing else would enter his mind. Quietly, but Unwillingly, he will have to move Elsewhere, start on a new Road, where almost All humans were lost to an un- Living Life, save a few un- Lucky souls.

Taterbug94

Literature

No name

Hello world hear my cry, take me up, lift me high. Welcome me into your loving embrace & be my saving grace. Help lift us higher by and by so that we can get dryer. Bye world I hope you enjoyed this little poem.

Literature

Rain over Death

With every drop of rain There comes great pain. So even though the music's dead The world isn't above my head. My body is cold but your hands are warm, Yet when I'm awake I feel like a storm. When I see the rain I feel nothing but pain, That it makes me insane It makes me want to go dance In the rain. So if you want rain Well, sorry, it doesn't Rain down here with death.

Literature

Nature's In Us All

Things seem like they just fly by Yet when I look out my window they just seem to be standing still. When I look at all the life & nature around me, I feel like I just want to take a knee. I see blue, white, & sometimes gray but I never want to go jump in a bed of hay. The water's nice & blue, yet we can barely see it. The grass is green no matter what unless you're in a drought, but wind & rain should drown it out & give the grass its color back. If for some reason you get a flat tire you know you can blame it on the fire. So here's a thought for everyone young & old, nature's in us all.

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Promoted Deviations

Literature

Inside colour.

When I cry. Man, do I cry. I'll be honest. I'm an ugly crier. Face all wet, with snot bubbles bursting everytime I sniff. Phlegm choking every breath I struggle to speak. Exhaling with such force that my lungs weaken, leaving minimal strength to grasp in air. Almost to stutter profusely in repetition. Like many others, I do it secretly, away from the public. Not in fear of the mess I become, but only to avoid more judgement. Sometimes a man breaks. Try not to kick him when he's down. Because he will get back up. But no longer as a fighter. Never again as a fighter. So don't expect to see the same man. While his mind battles to reinforce shivered walls with sticks and pebbles. He is now fixated on having them higher and thicker. A structure no longer to serve as protection. Only to dampen the blows, for the next day. The next wave. The 'I'm fine', is automated. It's an effective attack that casts a distraction to allow him to keep building. On his own. For some, darkness

Literature

serein

Somewhere, the room keeps breathing even after we leave it. A chair turned slightly toward another, light folding itself into the seam of the floor. It reaches out and the air already remembers the shape of your hand where it rests open. What is doesn’t vanish; it learns another cadence, slower, softer at the edges. We meet there sometimes, not to rewrite the sky, only to stand where the quiet gathers. And let the dream remain gentle enough to hold— present.

Literature

Femuary: She Wept By The Cradle

Tansall stared down at baby Eira, lying in the cradle that her infant son had died in, swaddled in the same cloths that had once kept him warm. She had washed the cloths since then, naturally, but it still unnerved her. Just as it unnerved her whenever she put Eira to her breast and let her nurse on milk that Tansall had produced for another baby. Had the circumstances been different, Tansall might have been able to better cope with this arrangement. But to lose her child and have another foisted on her in the same night, without even being permitted to properly mourn the loss of her own was almost too much for her to bear. That and what the mysterious lady had said, that Eira would be hers to raise, but the lady would one day return to prepare the girl to fulfil some bargain Tansall did not wish to understand. What Tansall did understand, however, was that she was essentially Eira’s wetnurse, and that the baby she fed at her breast and rocked to sleep each night would never be truly

Suggested Deviants

purplecuriosity

Literature

Fixation

Time is temporary, but baby you’re, eternal.

Literature

The Little Things

A land needing love, craves flowers and doves; the little things that leave, an impact.

Literature

Blank

A baby, is born, a blank canvas, with a future he, or she, is left to mold.

DavidTarr

Literature

37. Little Child's Eyes

One day, Little Child had to see If the one he loved lived in glee. Having her sight where his had been: He saw her living on an ocean.He saw her alone on a raft, In her hand: her heart, cut in half! And with swords where her soul had been, He saw her living on an ocean.He saw her where the air was dead, And where all joy would turn to dread. Trapped in a place he'd never been, He saw her living on an ocean.

Literature

The Broken Child

Pathetic and weak, Little Child discerned when the strength in him turned to goriness. Though in dreams he'd act in ways she deserved, Child could not protect his treasured princess. In reality, princess was threatened, Little Child struggled to guard her Heart through the terrible war that raged--unreasoned-- ending in breaking them both; Despair grew. Clutching on to life, fending off frostbite, he endeavored to bring her to safety. Bliss will not be withheld from a princess. Endlessly tried by fiends and parasites, He'll strive to keep her hopeful and lofty; Always to smother oncoming grayness.

Literature

The Guilty Child

Little Child he was, Only sixteen years Very young compared to Everyone on Earth. Soon, he Will be welcomed to the Inside of a Lost World. Lonely he will be, to Carry only memories Of his family Nothing else would enter his mind. Quietly, but Unwillingly, he will have to move Elsewhere, start on a new Road, where almost All humans were lost to an un- Living Life, save a few un- Lucky souls.

Taterbug94

Literature

No name

Hello world hear my cry, take me up, lift me high. Welcome me into your loving embrace & be my saving grace. Help lift us higher by and by so that we can get dryer. Bye world I hope you enjoyed this little poem.

Literature

Rain over Death

With every drop of rain There comes great pain. So even though the music's dead The world isn't above my head. My body is cold but your hands are warm, Yet when I'm awake I feel like a storm. When I see the rain I feel nothing but pain, That it makes me insane It makes me want to go dance In the rain. So if you want rain Well, sorry, it doesn't Rain down here with death.

Literature

Nature's In Us All

Things seem like they just fly by Yet when I look out my window they just seem to be standing still. When I look at all the life & nature around me, I feel like I just want to take a knee. I see blue, white, & sometimes gray but I never want to go jump in a bed of hay. The water's nice & blue, yet we can barely see it. The grass is green no matter what unless you're in a drought, but wind & rain should drown it out & give the grass its color back. If for some reason you get a flat tire you know you can blame it on the fire. So here's a thought for everyone young & old, nature's in us all.

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Site Header

Deviation Actions

Inside colour.

serein

Femuary: She Wept By The Cradle

Fixation

The Little Things

Blank

37. Little Child's Eyes

The Broken Child

The Guilty Child

No name

Rain over Death

Nature's In Us All

Inside colour.

serein

Femuary: She Wept By The Cradle

Fixation

The Little Things

Blank

37. Little Child's Eyes

The Broken Child

The Guilty Child

No name

Rain over Death

Nature's In Us All

Kyle Broflovski

Description

Inside colour.

serein

Femuary: She Wept By The Cradle

Fixation

The Little Things

Blank

37. Little Child's Eyes

The Broken Child

The Guilty Child

No name

Rain over Death

Nature's In Us All