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Leave this WorldI will slit my wrists
to watch the blood fall to the floor
to end my life for good
and nobody cry a single tear
I will leave this world
pretend that I never existed
This life dont need me no more
I am better off gone from this world
I will slit my wrists
to ease the pain
I can't take the crying
I can't take this pain
There is no hope in this world
There is no reason to live
I will leave this world for good
Maybe someday I will be reborn
Lying is Bad (A message to myself)Hello darling.
Have you ever held a needle to your wrist?
Have you ever skipped a meal because you were hungry?
Have you ever punched your stomach before falling asleep?
Have you ever felt wrong, because you told someone you were okay? (After all, lying is bad.)
Have you ever rocked back and forth without realizing, until someone else told you to stop?
Have you ever slammed your head against your wall so you might forget your situation?
Have you ever cried in a thunderstorm so no one would hear your cries for help?
Have you ever worn long sleeves and said it was because you were chilly... then felt horrible? (After all, lying is bad.)
Hello darling, I know you have.
But remember, you're strong. You're worthy.
You're more powerful than your sadness.
You are incredible.
You have been through more than you know,
And fought through more than you know...
And you've survived much more than you know.
You are going to make it.
You are going to push through this.
You are going to
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
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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