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About Literature / Professional Laura Barton28/Female/Canada Recent Activity
Deviant for 14 Years
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Newest Deviations

Shinjite Plush by lunastar Shinjite Plush :iconlunastar:lunastar 2 3 Project Dermatillomania by lunastar Project Dermatillomania :iconlunastar:lunastar 5 6 Shinjite Claus by lunastar Shinjite Claus :iconlunastar:lunastar 6 14 take a deep breath by lunastar take a deep breath :iconlunastar:lunastar 1 0 Paparazzi 2012 InYourFace by lunastar Paparazzi 2012 InYourFace :iconlunastar:lunastar 1 1 Paparazzi 2012 by lunastar Paparazzi 2012 :iconlunastar:lunastar 2 3
A matter of time.
The last vestige of foundation
crumbles away to dust,
a gritty snow storm that clouds my vision
and brings everything else down around it.
There's a red haze before my eyes
and a pain in my heart.
at all I once knew
falling to pieces before my eyes.
The beautiful illusion has cracked,
the hopes for repair have failed
with the shattered glass.
The excuses that created an appealing façade
are finally recognized for what they are
and a domino effect begins.
I didn't expect this.
There's so much noise
as the world falls apart.
Cries of anguish
with shouts of rage
screaming through the wreckage
of old memories and dreams of grandeur
that can no longer blossom.
It all seems a void now.
The coming rain will soon wash all
into disbelief
as we trace footsteps back to where it all went wrong.
Sifting through the sorrows
for some explanation to cling to.
But nothing seems real anymore.
Old photographs are like another's story
and memories seem to be tainted.
A new perspective
:iconlunastar:lunastar 3 11
11 additional things
          You're one of my best friends, although I'm not quite sure how to connect with you sometimes. You're one of the most technologically disinclined people I know, which is frustrating when one of my only means of communicating with you is through technology. It also distresses me when you pull away when you have problems. You seem to isolate yourself and it's even more difficult to get a hold of you than normal. Don't you know that I'm here for you?
          I don't write about you anymore. I think one of the reasons that I did was because I felt an immense amount of guilt with how I treated you when we were younger. Finding you on facebook and apologizing—even though you said that none of it even matters anymore—has given me peace of mind. Thanks for hearing me out.
          It's been so long since I saw yo
:iconlunastar:lunastar 0 2
"If you ever need help,
just call us,
let us know,
and we'll help"
when it's convenient for us
and it doesn't step on anyone else's toes.

Don't you know that you shouldn't
be making promises
if you're not willing to keep them?
By this point, I've come to expect the broken promises,
but I see how they destroy her
because somehow she still has faith in you
to help her up when she's stumbled.
I wish I could be the one to help her,
but she and I are connected in our struggles.
She and I both live on this crumbling foundation
and I can do no more than I have
to try and piece it back together.
I need help almost as much as she does,
but I'm not pinning all my hopes
on promises that come with conditions.
So while she waits for those promises to be filled,
she falls harder and harder,
and lands wounded among the remnants
of a foundation that wasn't quite sturdy to begin with.
And when she lands, she feels cheated,
lied to,
wondering if there will eve
:iconlunastar:lunastar 2 0
My poems
My poems don't contain grandiose metaphors
that make you pause and wonder just what I mean.
My poems don't deal in abstracts
that are nearly unattainable and incomprehensible.
My poems don't tend to contain hidden meaning,
but deal with emotions through words on a page
because that's how I make sense of this all.
That's how I make sense of my chaotic thoughts
that rarely let me sleep, unless I purge them on a page.
And then I share them so that I feel less alone
or at the very least there will be someone
who might finally understand.
My poems are probably not for study;
I wouldn't place them with Poe or Wordsworth or Keats or Shakespeare,
Because they deal with raw emotion and thought,
not that which is wrapped up in eloquence to try and make it look good.
I'm not here to pretty up the world with my words,
but instead am trying to strip it down,
looking at and beyond what the media-congested society tells us
and trying to find out what makes us all similar.
I don't expect praise for my
:iconlunastar:lunastar 3 2
I can't figure out why I'm crying
nor why it hurts so much to breathe
as if someone is in my chest and squeezing my lungs.
Why should these tears be falling
and why should the emotional pain
transcend to physical to the point where I can't even stomach
lest it make me sicker.
How is it that you came to have such sway over me?
How did I go from feeling like the one in charge
to the one crumbling under your flippant tone?
Every thought that now dwells on you
is no longer bringing elation to my being,
but is rather dragging me down
and I just want to sleep.
But I can't sleep
because what's dragging me down
is keeping me awake
and exhausting me all the while.
What I really wonder is
is it worth it to even feel these things?
Is it worth it to become an emotional and physical wreck?
Because really
it seems to me
like you just don't give a damn.
(And honestly, that's what hurts the most.)
:iconlunastar:lunastar 9 6
Taken Aback by lunastar Taken Aback :iconlunastar:lunastar 11 7
Internal Surfaced
I tear myself apart
and again,
I can't stop
Even though you want me to
(even though I want me to).
You shield your eyes and grimace
(I understand. I grimace, too);
and I can't take this self-destruction any longer.
Just stop.
(But it's not about willing it away.
It's about altering an internal make up
and fixing the wiring that says to rip myself to shreds
without stopping until it's okay again.)
(It's never okay.)
I try to hide the destruction under
(the surface)
the layers of adhesive,
but I fear that only makes it all the more evident.
That it becomes a neon sign
made of non-neon material, but still doing the same trick.
It brings in the attention and demands judgement.
Gather around paparazzi and see what she's done
(please…just look away).
Here's your chance to ask intrusive questions,
as if you have a right to know what she's concealing.
(I do want you to know,
but on my terms, in my own time
when I'm ready to face the judgement.)
:iconlunastar:lunastar 9 6
Back and forth,
back and forth;
it keeps swinging
back and forth
and I'm just waiting for it to stop.
It can't go on forever,
but it seems like it will.
I anxiously watch,
hypnotized into submission,
waiting until I can move again.
Waiting until I've been released from the grasp
of that which controls my actions.
This hypnotism is an obsessive act
as if I hope each time will be better
for having stared at it swinging
back and forth.
I hope that my world will come crashing down around me
in a perfect assemblage,
though even if it does,
I won't give up the hypnotism.
It's slowing now,
the arc of its swing less wide
and somehow more foreboding
although soon I will be released to make of it what I will.
It's slowing now,
where it's going to stop becoming more and more evident.
My anxiety builds.
And then it finally stops.
And I'm left staring at its immobility.
I'm not eating today.
:iconlunastar:lunastar 2 0
Please find another way to show your tender side
because this bouquet just has so many thorns
that the flowers are intangible, invisible.
The thorns pierce through my flesh
and although I laugh it off with brave smiles
my hands need tourniquets.
Hasn't anyone ever told you that the flowers you give
are not flowers at all, but something you've collected from the brambles?
Has no one ever thrown the bouquet back at you
pleading for something more appealing?
I do so now only because I'm sure you care
and would take me into your arms to sing me comforting lullabies
if you only knew just how damaging your bouquets are.
:iconlunastar:lunastar 10 9
Pinkie Promise
        Don't promise me forever because I won't believe you. You probably think that forever will tell me just how much your heart swells or how the love you feel is undying, unyielding, unchanging, but I know the fickle ways of the heart. I know how it varies on a whim, the same way that it beats faster at any given moment from any given cause before you can stop it. You're not its master, it is the master of you, making your blood sing and snatching your reason up so that you can do nothing but follow it. You think that you are in control of it, but before you know it, the heart has made a new decision without asking for your permission. No, you are no master.
        Don't promise me tomorrow because tomorrow may never come. The world is just as fickle as the heart and tomorrow's sun may never rise. Who are we to assume that just because the light has touched the earth every other day that the same will
:iconlunastar:lunastar 4 0


lunastar's Profile Picture
Laura Barton
Artist | Professional | Literature

i write things.

facebook: Laura Barton: Writer
twitter: Laura_Barton
instagram: Laura_Barton
tumblr: or
book: Project Dermatillomania

Canadian-Badge by Dinoclaws Ontarian-Badge by Dinoclaws

THANK YOU WhittyKitty! :D

Custom Big Paw Floppy - Shinjite by WhittyKitty


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YoshixWolfxLover Featured By Owner Jan 21, 2015   Traditional Artist
(1 Reply)
MikoKa Featured By Owner Dec 30, 2014  Professional Traditional Artist
Thanks so much for the :+fav:s!
Doucepattes Featured By Owner Nov 15, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
thank you thank you thank you ~

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AndrewGeorge1991 Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Happy B-day^^
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MikoKa Featured By Owner Jun 4, 2014  Professional Traditional Artist
Thanks for the Watch!
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