|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
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
to be sadto be sad
would to be
feeling fresh air
in withered lungs.
instead i sit,
in stagnant misery,
and weeping wounds
and opened wounds
and clotted blood.
to hear the walls
chatter with criticisms
is an ache in my heart,
to know that i am of
empty worth in the eyes
my efforts are passed by
under the single blue eye
overseeing the universe.
i am unknown,
to be sad with my tears wiped away
would be the kindest motion
the fates could bestow.
On To Dead Little GirlsSpiders hang from threads made of shadows.
Blood dripping from his tongue,
Silence flooding the sky.
He’s pouring salt along open wounds,
Bandaging them with dust,
Disinfecting with poison.
Black roses on a coffin
For a small little girl
In a pale pink dress
And cuts along her
Frozen clocks begin to move
The sun has risen,
Early morning light
Shining brightly in the sky.
He walks to the graveyard,
Setting white daisies on
The little girl’s
Days go by,
And he sits there.
Tearing petals off the flowers,
And a butterfly lands on one daisy.
He crawls on his hands and knees,
Holes in his clothes,
Dirt on his fingers.
He tickles the butterfly
And treasures it until it dies.
For the best thing to do
Is rip off the wings of a butterfly…
And sew them onto dead little girls.
In a Little Girl's MindThere sits the girl with the things in her eyes
Monsters, destruction, and sweet butterflies
Hopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screams
Beautiful dresses now torn at the seams
Crayons and paintbrushes, villains and grins
Young, gladsome innocence, hatred and sins
Little red houses on roads left to fade
Gorgeous moonlight shining off of the blade
Blood pouring out as she cries her own name
Knowing she's forced to take each bit of blame
She could have stopped it and left it behind
All of these things in her troubled young mind
She could have saved them if she dared to try
Rather, though, she left herself there to die.
Now, others watch as she sits on the ground
Keeping their distance and letting her drown
In her own worries and things she won't tell
Waiting for her mind to kill her as well…
Why am I a Marine?You can keep your Army khaki,
You can keep your Navy Blue,
I have the world's best fighting man,
To introduce to you.
His uniform is different,
The best you've ever seen.
The German's call him "Devil Dog"
His real name is "Marine".
He was born on Parris Island,
The place where God forgot.
The sand is eighteen inches deep
The sun is blazing hot.
He gets up every morning,
Before the rising sun.
He 'll run a hundred miles and more,
Before the day is done.
He's deadly with a rifle,
A bayonet made of steel.
He took the warriors calling card,
He's mastered how to kill.
And when he gets to heaven,
St. Peter he will tell,
One more Marine reporting sir,
I've served my time in Hell.
So listen all you young girls,
To what I have to say
Go find yourself a young Marine,
To love you every day.
He'll hug you and he'll kiss you,
And treat you like a queen.
There is no better fighting man:
THE UNITED STATES MARINE!
Dear DA 4/22/12Dear DA-
I have learned that fear is a device of our own creation. I often watch myself and others in situations where fear is turned into rage, pain, and depression. The communication breaks down and often a fight will rage that never end because the real issue isn't being addressed. I have noticed more and more how fear manipulates our lives in negative ways. It prevents progress, undermines positivity, and ruins our self esteem. We shouldn't ever fear the things that may happen, did happen, or are happening. Instead, I have learned that we should fear only fear itself and those who sew it.
For those who sew fear and negativity cannot help us or themselves. It is easy to be dragged down by them and the insecurity that surrounds us all. This is why we must surround ourselves with people who love and care for us. They are the ones who will bring us up no matter how horrible it may be. It is the people who never make a effort to change that we must avoid. They will never truly love or a
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
Keep in Touch!
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