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Life Starts Without You"I Hate Everything About You",but I always get "Lost In You".
"Over And Over" I "Let You Down",but your the "Bully".
I won't be "Just Like You".
Your "Bitter Taste" will be "Gone Forever",once I "Let It Die".
"Take Me Under" "No More".
I know you were "Born Like This",but "Wake Up"!
We are living in a "World So Cold".
But "Without You" I will "Get Out Alive",
While you're "Scared" at "Home" in your "Time Of Dying".
It's hard to find "Someone Who Cares",but I'd rather be "On My Own".
Though it is "Never Too Late",
It's "Now Or Never" to help this "Animal 'You' Have Become".
"Burn" in a "Riot" for all I care.
"The Good Life" does not include you.
I'm not "Goin' Down" with you,
When you wouldn't for me.
As you "Drown" in your "Pain",
I'll be one the other side.
You are so "Overrated".
I was the "Last To Know",
this is who you really are.
This is the last time you "Break" the "One X".
"It's All Over",because "Life Starts Now".
Train to NowhereI'm on a train,
Can't see through the rain,
I try not to care.
It's moving too fast,
but how do i slow?
Am I running from my past,
or just eager to go?
I know I should stop,
try to get a grip,
but this train is on lock,
and my sanity begins to slip.
Would it be so bad to ride,
to let this train go on?
We all know that I lied,
that I'm too far gone.
I can never be me,
no matter how I try.
Can't you see?
This has all been a lie.
So I'll sit and relax,
let the train run.
Maybe the train will crash.
Wouldn't that be fun?
The words I finally figured out how to say.I know I always say that I don't have the right words, because I really don't...
But I'm going to try and put them down right now.
Growing up in the age of the Internet, we were always told to be wary and watch out. Since, you know, everyone is a perverted old man waiting to come and kidnap you.
But frankly...you guys are the best friends I have ever had. Through the emails, videos, phone calls, FaceTimes, etc...
You guys are the only reason I haven't completely given up yet.
I just want you all to know that sometimes I wish I could just rip off the screen and jump into it, so there wasn't hundreds of miles between us like there is now. Then we could say the words out loud, face-to-face, within hugging distance. And cling to one another like little girls while finally crying together like we really need.
Thank you for actually caring. Thank you for not giving up on me, when all I want to do is exactly that. Thank you for being there to listen to my fears and worries, when no one on my
Before I Can Become a WriterDevelop insomnia. Develop
problems with substance abuse,
nothing serious, but enough
that I can say “write drunk,
edit sober” and mean it.
Drink tea. Write about drinking
tea. Take up smoking, ignore
the thoughts about it being
a slower suicide. Write about
suicide. Don’t mean it.
Write about sunsets and
ink veins. Mean it.
Fall in love with someone
who will never love me back.
Lament. Write a million
crappy poems and two good
ones. Never show him.
Move on. Write a few more
bad poems. Fall in love with
someone perfect. Screw it up.
Fall in love with someone awful.
Call him perfect. Screw it up.
Cry. Cry for the inevitable,
the way my family never
loved me right, the way my
first kiss was regrettable
at best, the way my therapist
says my depression is a demon
taking over me. Cry for the
changeable, the way
I hate my body and my writing
and everything I live to be.
Use clichés. Live clichés,
breathe clichés, be
a cliché. Write a poem
House of MirrorsThey say I spin
a web of lies,
but webs are for spiders.
They catch their flies.
No, my lies are mirrors,
each a different reflection.
They fill up my house,
my sinful collection.
Sometimes I get lost.
There's so much confusion.
Which ones are real?
Which are illusions?
I try to back track,
but the mirrors turn me around.
I cry out for help,
but the mirrors block the sound.
I give up.
Hang another mirror.
In this one I'm cruel and cold
on the exterior.
How many reflections
will I become?
Which one is real?
Where have I gone?
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
Un roti de Cupidon"Patron.. je suis pas sûr que ça soit une si bonne idée..."
Un bruissement d'ailes presque froufroutant sur sa gauche le fit se retourner d'un bond, mais il ne put percevoir qu'un bref mouvement du coin de l'oeil. Ils étaient rapides, bien trop rapides. Jamais le vieux ne réussirait. De nouveau ce bruit soyeux, semblable à des ailes de tourterelles, mais bien plus proche. Dans son esprit il pouvait les voir, tournant au dessus de sa tête comme autant de vautours prêts à la curée.
Le bruit assourdi des détonations résonna et tout autour d'Emmanuel une pluie de plumes commença à virevolter tandis que cinq bruits sourds accompagnaient la chute d'autant de corps autour de lui.
"Ramasse les, petit. On a encore du boulot."
Avec une grimace mi admirative, mi dégoûtée, le jeune homme se mit au travail, enfilant des lourds gants de cuir pour se protéger. Son sup
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More