Flowers in the Wondow by Red--Roses on DeviantArt

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Promoted Deviations

Literature

Loud Silence - read description

Want to hear another story besides my poem stark slence not to the living but to the dying instead ceasefire of all the pain that makes me feel dead sights of seeing people exploding and hurting you inside your head the things you're afraid of still sleep with you while you're in your or someone else's bed creeping blinders on all of the lookers and straight through their looking glass you're not alright but you can still pass for the living and there is no life without giving receiving answers after they've left we can't understand life until after death yet never giving my secrets after life and the lies again about how much is left death may take that away but mind paralysis means I'll just stay forever locked far away words of truth will stain and stay they come out and show more about things never in doubt still it'll come back possibly and hopefully one day when the light is near fighting in the dark just to stay here but I don't know where I am maybe I'll just stay

Literature

Loss and Resilience

The dream was never promised. It arrived as a flicker, fragile and unclaimed, then receded into the indifferent expanse. Disappointment is patient; it waits in silence, stripping the soul of expectation until emptiness becomes familiar. Yet to yield completely is impossible: some pulse, stubborn and quiet, insists on persistence. Depression settles like dusk, dense and inescapable, coloring the world with its somber hue. Time stretches, merciless, and the heart learns the weight of each unfulfilled desire. Still, even within the void, endurance awakens—small, unassuming, unremarkable. To continue is itself a defiance. The lost dream is transformed: not into fulfillment, but into a measured strength, a clarity born from suffering. The ember does not blaze; it glows, subtle and unwavering. In that glow resides a truth: the act of bearing, of moving forward against absence, is illumination enough.

Literature

Not Sacrifice, Fulfillment

To My Daughters, One Day When You Read This I want you both to understand something clearly, without confusion, without the weight that so many children grow up carrying: I never sacrificed for you. That’s not how I see it. That’s not what this has been. One day, you may look back at the life I lived and say things like, “Dad gave up a lot for us.” But I need you to know now, while this moment still lives fresh in my heart—I didn’t give anything up. I chose it. And I would choose it again. Because helping you find your passions… was never a burden. It was joy. It was purpose. It was the clearest, most sacred use of the love I carry for you. There’s no pair of shoes, no car, no trip or luxury or shiny thing in this world that could bring me the kind of joy I feel when I see your eyes light up doing something you love. Whether it’s cheerleading or gymnastics or whatever new dream enters your heart next year or ten years from now—supporting that isn’t sacrifice. It’s

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MikkiMarie

Literature

And That's Wrong.

You're fat. Or maybe you're Anorexic... I don't know. But you're not perfect. And that's wrong.You're ugly. Or maybe you're Fake... But you're not perfect. And that's wrong.You're quiet. Or maybe you're Obnoxious... But you're not perfect. And that's wrong.You're you. Or maybe you're like everybody else? Well. You're not perfect. And that's wrong.

Literature

Depression...

No, depression is not just getting sad. It's a constant sadness that melts into your bones, An indescribably heavy weight upon your shoulders, Never mind your heart and soul. It's believing so many lies (maybe because you've learned to accept them) And no longer appreciating your self-worth. Wishing you no longer existed, wishing yourself gone. Depression holds you back from your dreams And pulls you into a nightmare. It takes full control of your existence. It makes you never want to get out of bed, And when you finally do, You just want to get back in it. But you know the hardest part? Ignorant people. Just. Like. You.

Literature

Think of This..

You want to end it? Think of this. You write your suicide note... And you set it on the table. You take your razor, your silver, two inch razor. And you start to slide it across your wrist. You barely feel a thing. After all, the pain of life is more than the pain of the blade. And you take that belt you never wore, the one that was too tight, the one you starved yourself to fit into. And you wrap it once, twice around your neck... and you pull it tight. Barely breathing, you put the ends of the belt on something to hold you up. Something to strangle you. Something to kill you.And you die.And that's the end, right? Wrong. So, so wrong.Your...

UntamedUnwanted

Literature

Obsession

It takes 14 minutes and twelve seconds to walk to your home from mine every day. Your mother never fails to smile at me when she opens the door. I never fail to notice that it doesn't reach her eyes anymore.You leave your door open an exact two point three centimeters . I don't think you do it on purpose. There is something wrong with the wood that has left it that way. I pause one foot outside the door and listen to you cough, trying to determine how sick you feel today. I hate that every time I think you are particularly ill, I am always right. Six months, seventeen days and fourteen hours . That is how long its been since the doctor...

Literature

Lonely Girl

I painted. You said I'm wasteful. I sang. You said I couldn't hold a tune. I wrote. You said I made no sense. I danced. You said I had two left feet. I cried. You told me I was ugly. I will be amazing one day. Just to make all of you wonder why you didn't get to know me better.

Literature

I'm Not the Marrying Kind

I'm not the marrying kind.  I have stones in my hair instead of flowers, And a rosebush of thorns is more poignant to me.  I'm not the marrying kind.  My words aren't pretty or wise, And I can't sing about anything but a broken heart.  I'm not the marrying kind.  I am the sort of damaged you see in an old recorder, And the kind of old in an instrument that breaks into a billion pieces at a touch.  I'm not the marrying kind.  Neither neat, nor tidy, nor correct in my behavior, And yes, I did in fact tell you to fuck yourself.  I'm not the marrying kind.  I do not stay silent in arguments,  And I like to lie compulsively, just to see your fa...

malphasloveshisfries

Literature

Hate

But I hate myself I hate my fucking pride And how much I speak out I wish I could stop living And just fall into your arms Listen to your kind voice Singing me to sleep And your touch on my face I wish I wasn't so stupid That I have come to love you I wish I could just leave Because I have nothing left to say I love you more than anything But I don't even care I just hate myself I just want to DIE.

Literature

Am I?

Am I selfish? Spoiled? Arrogant? Just wanted attention? What is so wrong with me I've just realized this know? I honestly thought so many people cared that I would talk about myself so much, never bother to ask If someone else, with more problems then the selfish affairs of my heart... Is alright? What have I become? Why do I hate myself so much? A selfish, worthless, pathetic brat Whining just because a lover broke his vow Is that all thats really wrong with me? Or is it parents who don't care about me? And just want the grades to match, This idol and this image built up inside their head. Maybe the fact I feel so empty, bipolar, wrecked ...

Literature

Understand

Have you ever felt worthless? Like no thought that came out of your head was worth while? Do you understand what it feels like to have lost yourself inside his eyes? Can you sympathize with just wanting to reach out and touch him. Not even to speak to him Just to hold him The one thing that keeps you sane The thoughts of his smile spinning through your head Feeling him hold you Dreaming of him But knowing he is so far away from youDo you understand How it feels to love someone That will never love you back

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Poetry and Writing

Literature

what does it feel like to be sober at a party?

sometimes you want to spit out your teeth because you’ve been grinding them so hard under a diaphanous coating of crimson lipstick; but you know the floors already freckled with confetti- aluminum and glass and paper- and the eburnean pearls tucked away in your mouth are not able to be recycledand sometimes it’s rivulets on the back of your neck, droplets dripping like honey, because the rooms heating up from people swarming like bees; as your cheeks burgeon like crimson roses your oversized sweater becomes your only source of safety- maybe from the constant touch of others, as they bump around like lost passengers at a train station, or...

Literature

you're never hopeless

you tell me you feel hopeless as you talk with tired eyes- the sky drips with black pen ink poured on crystal cosmic lightsyour eyes become black vacuums- your words turn to somber sighs, and I ask you: on the darkest of nights, have you ever seen a starless sky?

Literature

Darling, Don't You Dare

To the girl who skips dinner, Because her reflection hurts more than Starving.To the boy who wears sweatshirts On hot summer days, Because he doesn’t want his mother to cry over his Scars.To the boy who weeps uncontrollably Until he falls asleep, Because it’s the only way to escape into his Dreams.To the girl who spends her days in her bedroom, Because the dark is more peaceful than her Mind.To the child who gets angry, Because no one understands.To the teens who self-harm, To the ones in recovery, To the ones that just can’t do it anymore…Stay Strong.For the girl who skips meals And the boy who wears sweatshirts, For the boy who cries, Th...

Inspiring Literature

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Literature

Depression is an Option

Depression is a choice, my dear, And happiness the same You choose this illness, don’t you? What a tragic little game.Depression is an option, love Just get up out of bed Take your tears and worries And just smile now instead.Depression is a choice, you see, And so is suicide. Just sit back, kick your feet up, dear Enjoy this perfect ride.Get over your own standards Of what everyone should be. Just smile for once, and maybe You’ll be living perfectly....But...Depression is an illness That we feel so deep within. Why would anybody choose To write poetry on their skin?Unless there lies a reason, dear, I would not choose to die.If depression ...

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Promoted Deviations

Literature

Loud Silence - read description

Want to hear another story besides my poem stark slence not to the living but to the dying instead ceasefire of all the pain that makes me feel dead sights of seeing people exploding and hurting you inside your head the things you're afraid of still sleep with you while you're in your or someone else's bed creeping blinders on all of the lookers and straight through their looking glass you're not alright but you can still pass for the living and there is no life without giving receiving answers after they've left we can't understand life until after death yet never giving my secrets after life and the lies again about how much is left death may take that away but mind paralysis means I'll just stay forever locked far away words of truth will stain and stay they come out and show more about things never in doubt still it'll come back possibly and hopefully one day when the light is near fighting in the dark just to stay here but I don't know where I am maybe I'll just stay

Literature

Loss and Resilience

The dream was never promised. It arrived as a flicker, fragile and unclaimed, then receded into the indifferent expanse. Disappointment is patient; it waits in silence, stripping the soul of expectation until emptiness becomes familiar. Yet to yield completely is impossible: some pulse, stubborn and quiet, insists on persistence. Depression settles like dusk, dense and inescapable, coloring the world with its somber hue. Time stretches, merciless, and the heart learns the weight of each unfulfilled desire. Still, even within the void, endurance awakens—small, unassuming, unremarkable. To continue is itself a defiance. The lost dream is transformed: not into fulfillment, but into a measured strength, a clarity born from suffering. The ember does not blaze; it glows, subtle and unwavering. In that glow resides a truth: the act of bearing, of moving forward against absence, is illumination enough.

Literature

Not Sacrifice, Fulfillment

To My Daughters, One Day When You Read This I want you both to understand something clearly, without confusion, without the weight that so many children grow up carrying: I never sacrificed for you. That’s not how I see it. That’s not what this has been. One day, you may look back at the life I lived and say things like, “Dad gave up a lot for us.” But I need you to know now, while this moment still lives fresh in my heart—I didn’t give anything up. I chose it. And I would choose it again. Because helping you find your passions… was never a burden. It was joy. It was purpose. It was the clearest, most sacred use of the love I carry for you. There’s no pair of shoes, no car, no trip or luxury or shiny thing in this world that could bring me the kind of joy I feel when I see your eyes light up doing something you love. Whether it’s cheerleading or gymnastics or whatever new dream enters your heart next year or ten years from now—supporting that isn’t sacrifice. It’s

Suggested Deviants

MikkiMarie

Literature

And That's Wrong.

You're fat. Or maybe you're Anorexic... I don't know. But you're not perfect. And that's wrong.You're ugly. Or maybe you're Fake... But you're not perfect. And that's wrong.You're quiet. Or maybe you're Obnoxious... But you're not perfect. And that's wrong.You're you. Or maybe you're like everybody else? Well. You're not perfect. And that's wrong.

Literature

Depression...

No, depression is not just getting sad. It's a constant sadness that melts into your bones, An indescribably heavy weight upon your shoulders, Never mind your heart and soul. It's believing so many lies (maybe because you've learned to accept them) And no longer appreciating your self-worth. Wishing you no longer existed, wishing yourself gone. Depression holds you back from your dreams And pulls you into a nightmare. It takes full control of your existence. It makes you never want to get out of bed, And when you finally do, You just want to get back in it. But you know the hardest part? Ignorant people. Just. Like. You.

Literature

Think of This..

You want to end it? Think of this. You write your suicide note... And you set it on the table. You take your razor, your silver, two inch razor. And you start to slide it across your wrist. You barely feel a thing. After all, the pain of life is more than the pain of the blade. And you take that belt you never wore, the one that was too tight, the one you starved yourself to fit into. And you wrap it once, twice around your neck... and you pull it tight. Barely breathing, you put the ends of the belt on something to hold you up. Something to strangle you. Something to kill you.And you die.And that's the end, right? Wrong. So, so wrong.Your...

UntamedUnwanted

Literature

Obsession

It takes 14 minutes and twelve seconds to walk to your home from mine every day. Your mother never fails to smile at me when she opens the door. I never fail to notice that it doesn't reach her eyes anymore.You leave your door open an exact two point three centimeters . I don't think you do it on purpose. There is something wrong with the wood that has left it that way. I pause one foot outside the door and listen to you cough, trying to determine how sick you feel today. I hate that every time I think you are particularly ill, I am always right. Six months, seventeen days and fourteen hours . That is how long its been since the doctor...

Literature

Lonely Girl

I painted. You said I'm wasteful. I sang. You said I couldn't hold a tune. I wrote. You said I made no sense. I danced. You said I had two left feet. I cried. You told me I was ugly. I will be amazing one day. Just to make all of you wonder why you didn't get to know me better.

Literature

I'm Not the Marrying Kind

I'm not the marrying kind.  I have stones in my hair instead of flowers, And a rosebush of thorns is more poignant to me.  I'm not the marrying kind.  My words aren't pretty or wise, And I can't sing about anything but a broken heart.  I'm not the marrying kind.  I am the sort of damaged you see in an old recorder, And the kind of old in an instrument that breaks into a billion pieces at a touch.  I'm not the marrying kind.  Neither neat, nor tidy, nor correct in my behavior, And yes, I did in fact tell you to fuck yourself.  I'm not the marrying kind.  I do not stay silent in arguments,  And I like to lie compulsively, just to see your fa...

malphasloveshisfries

Literature

Hate

But I hate myself I hate my fucking pride And how much I speak out I wish I could stop living And just fall into your arms Listen to your kind voice Singing me to sleep And your touch on my face I wish I wasn't so stupid That I have come to love you I wish I could just leave Because I have nothing left to say I love you more than anything But I don't even care I just hate myself I just want to DIE.

Literature

Am I?

Am I selfish? Spoiled? Arrogant? Just wanted attention? What is so wrong with me I've just realized this know? I honestly thought so many people cared that I would talk about myself so much, never bother to ask If someone else, with more problems then the selfish affairs of my heart... Is alright? What have I become? Why do I hate myself so much? A selfish, worthless, pathetic brat Whining just because a lover broke his vow Is that all thats really wrong with me? Or is it parents who don't care about me? And just want the grades to match, This idol and this image built up inside their head. Maybe the fact I feel so empty, bipolar, wrecked ...

Literature

Understand

Have you ever felt worthless? Like no thought that came out of your head was worth while? Do you understand what it feels like to have lost yourself inside his eyes? Can you sympathize with just wanting to reach out and touch him. Not even to speak to him Just to hold him The one thing that keeps you sane The thoughts of his smile spinning through your head Feeling him hold you Dreaming of him But knowing he is so far away from youDo you understand How it feels to love someone That will never love you back

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narutobaby on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/narutobaby/art/ben-x-sally-453112064narutobaby

Poetry and Writing

Literature

what does it feel like to be sober at a party?

sometimes you want to spit out your teeth because you’ve been grinding them so hard under a diaphanous coating of crimson lipstick; but you know the floors already freckled with confetti- aluminum and glass and paper- and the eburnean pearls tucked away in your mouth are not able to be recycledand sometimes it’s rivulets on the back of your neck, droplets dripping like honey, because the rooms heating up from people swarming like bees; as your cheeks burgeon like crimson roses your oversized sweater becomes your only source of safety- maybe from the constant touch of others, as they bump around like lost passengers at a train station, or...

Literature

you're never hopeless

you tell me you feel hopeless as you talk with tired eyes- the sky drips with black pen ink poured on crystal cosmic lightsyour eyes become black vacuums- your words turn to somber sighs, and I ask you: on the darkest of nights, have you ever seen a starless sky?

Literature

Darling, Don't You Dare

To the girl who skips dinner, Because her reflection hurts more than Starving.To the boy who wears sweatshirts On hot summer days, Because he doesn’t want his mother to cry over his Scars.To the boy who weeps uncontrollably Until he falls asleep, Because it’s the only way to escape into his Dreams.To the girl who spends her days in her bedroom, Because the dark is more peaceful than her Mind.To the child who gets angry, Because no one understands.To the teens who self-harm, To the ones in recovery, To the ones that just can’t do it anymore…Stay Strong.For the girl who skips meals And the boy who wears sweatshirts, For the boy who cries, Th...

Inspiring Literature

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Literature

Depression is an Option

Depression is a choice, my dear, And happiness the same You choose this illness, don’t you? What a tragic little game.Depression is an option, love Just get up out of bed Take your tears and worries And just smile now instead.Depression is a choice, you see, And so is suicide. Just sit back, kick your feet up, dear Enjoy this perfect ride.Get over your own standards Of what everyone should be. Just smile for once, and maybe You’ll be living perfectly....But...Depression is an illness That we feel so deep within. Why would anybody choose To write poetry on their skin?Unless there lies a reason, dear, I would not choose to die.If depression ...

Deviation Actions

Loud Silence - read description

Loss and Resilience

Not Sacrifice, Fulfillment

And That's Wrong.

Depression...

Think of This..

Obsession

Lonely Girl

I'm Not the Marrying Kind

Hate

Am I?

Understand

what does it feel like to be sober at a party?

you're never hopeless

Darling, Don't You Dare

Depression is an Option

Loud Silence - read description

Loss and Resilience

Not Sacrifice, Fulfillment

And That's Wrong.

Depression...

Think of This..

Obsession

Lonely Girl

I'm Not the Marrying Kind

Hate

Am I?

Understand

what does it feel like to be sober at a party?

you're never hopeless

Darling, Don't You Dare

Depression is an Option

Flowers in the Wondow

Description

Loud Silence - read description

Loss and Resilience

Not Sacrifice, Fulfillment

And That's Wrong.

Depression...

Think of This..

Obsession

Lonely Girl

I'm Not the Marrying Kind

Hate

Am I?

Understand

what does it feel like to be sober at a party?

you're never hopeless

Darling, Don't You Dare

Depression is an Option