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CanvasLet her paint a masterpiece,
Let her paint a lie
Let her paint a word inside the shining silver skies.
Let her paint a mystery,
Let her paint a sin
Let her paint the things that lie in darkness deep within.
Let her paint a masterpiece
(but this time there's a twist)
Make the brush a blade and let the canvas be her wrist...
Magic WandDragons fly through poison skies, their whispers in the wind
Ladybugs in black sandcastles, scratches on your skin
Hopscotch over quicksand, and a castle made of dirt
Shining silver crowns and dancing 'round in spinning skirts
Bloody, ruined princesses locked up in towers tall
Watching as the prince quickly begins to fall
Slowly, as the innocence does take her darling life
Please do watch now, as the magic wand becomes a knife...
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
TriggerI will be the victim and the cruel words on your lips
I will be the sin resting among your fingertips
I will be the innocence you lost so long ago
I will be the many things you never dared to know
I will be the throbbing heart and I will be your tears
I will be the basis of your undiscovered fears
I will be the aching mind, the troublesome disease
I will be the deadly heartbeat, you these things will please
I will be emotionless to make you seem so pure
I will find a beating heart, and then I'll find the cure
I will be the heartlessness that helps you to survive
I will pull the trigger just to make you seem alive...
SomethingEvery moment, every thought, an echo in your mind
Every treasured lullaby you're forced to leave behind
Every broken moment, every twisted fantasy
Every empty shadow, every lonely melody
Holding knives against your skin with tears inside your eyes
Fighting back the happiness, yet fighting back the cries
How could one be joyous at a moment such as this?
Something could be stopping you, but nothing truly is…
Tears Crimson tears were all she cried. They fell to stain the dirty carpet of her room. It was all she could do to forget--or was she simply fighting the comfort of feeling? Her brother was dead. Her sister also; she died in her arms--the poor fragile thing. She had tried to stop them but in the end the only gain had been more scars, and blood which was not her own. And then they had raped her there in her sister's blood. Her father was beating her mother when he wasn't drunk, and beating her when he was. Her mother blamed her, continually reminding her that she had ruined this family and caused the death of her siblings--nobody would even say 'murder'. But she couldn't leave, and that's what no one understood; she just couldn't.
I don't want to die--
I want to feel alive.
Her eyes were dry and she wept all the more, the dirty-yellow streetlamp outside the window casting an ugly yellow glow onto the floor in front of her. Oh
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.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More