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Broken AngelI fell in love with a broken girl
An angel long fallen from grace
Her wings gone limp, her soul empty
The ghosts of tears on her face
The scars on her arms told the story
of battles she long ago lost
Etched in her eyes was the pain
hidden behind blue was the cost
I took the broken angel before me
and kissed every scar on her arm
And though I am far from a hero
I promised to protect her from harm
Together we'll face down her demons
No longer will she fight alone
Slowly her heart will grow stronger
Protected now by my own
Lock and KeySometimes a heart is under lock and key
Sometimes there is more to a person than what you see
And how might you find a key to a heart?
Would you even know where you should start?
If it was me I would look for the soul
There you might find what makes them whole
Wait to see the colours that shine true
You might find that they open up to you
Take you time, have patience, be gentle and kind
Not all keys are so easy to find
Some keys are lost in history
Some keys are just a mystery
Take time to learn and see who they are
Take your time to show that you really care
You might just see there's more to them than what you see
And even find a heart shaped key
Hope (I Won't)I won't let a razor blade
Take away this life I've made.
I won't let the shame and guilt
Ruin everything I've built.
I won't let being wrong
Stop me from being strong.
I won't let sorrow and pain
Resurrect the demons that I've slain.
I won't let ugly spite
Tell me that I'm not right.
I won't let the dark past
Make my endless hurt last.
I won't let this noose
Leave me hanging loose.
I won't let the world win;
My life is only just about to begin.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More