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When I'm GoneI don’t want you to remember me.
I don’t want you to think of me.
I don’t want you to hurt over me.
I don’t want you to dream of me.
I don’t want you to cry for me.
I don’t want you to miss me.
I don’t want you to love me.
I don’t want you
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…
HopeHope is just the lies
I tell myself
Hope tells me tomorrow
Will be better then today
So I don't cry myself to sleep
Hope whispers that next time
I'll do things right
When I only make it worse
Hope says that everything will be alright
When I know it won't be
Hope promises that there is a perfect
Person for me and that one day
I'll find that person
Hope shouts that one day
I'll do great things
And will always be rememebered
So that I'll never truely die
Hope sings of a better place
When there isn't one
Hope mocks that it could be worse
But most of the time
I'd do anything to not be me
Hope is merely a lie
But that's okay
Because a lot of things are lies
WordsWords float on a thin line
Some scurry through
My cloudy mind
Never to be caught only
Leaving their essence behind
Give me writings to where
People can sometimes find
What I mean
No matter what I do
I can never seem to convey
The emotion of my poem to
A person despite who they are
I even doubt you
Will get just what I mean
When I finish a poem I rue
Make the stupid poem
My own words
Are twisting and forming
Into a poem I didn't make
Sometimes I feel like crying
The frustration is so great
I keep writing
Otherwise I'll always
Be just scribbling
Poisoned LullabiesCradle me with bloody hands and wipe away my cries
Hush me into my sweet sleep with poisoned lullabies…
GravityI promise I’m not like everybody else.
I’m not here to
I’m not here to
I’m here to
I’m here to
I’m here to
Please don’t say I’m like everybody else.
Because I’m not here to
But sometimes, gravity is
Sometimes you’re going to
But I promise, even if I’m not there…
I’ll still be there, for you.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More