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Poets Always Lieambrosial fabrications are
easier to swallow down when
incandescence is a blessing bestowed
only upon those with silky tongues.
deceptions are beautiful
in the right words
because they are salvation, like a
rapture, they save the sickly,
self-indulgent souls from those
tragedies they used to write on the insides
of childhood notebooks about who
they could never be [themselves]
they rescue them from tremulous
corners and closets, hideaways
where they've grown too akin to
the demons they nurse; and drag
them into a land beautiful enough
to wear light as a second skin
(where lies are never discussed
but always shared)
are so much more comforting
than the absoluteness of reality
because self-resentment is as
natural as a heartbeat to those
who were born breathing and
abhorring and denying all from one
steady gasp of what the existent world
had to offer to them
back then their eyes opened, and
their fingers fumbled, born, they realized
the world wasn't as pretty as promi
cyclical decay.an apple falls and hits the head
of a seamstress in a straight jacket
who ties her knots a bit too tightly
and can't crawl out of her own skin, but
she smiles like a jackal and plays games
with the school children in the garden
that visit her when class is over. they
bring her wood and coals so she can
set herself on fire when the moon comes
to scold her in the night. by dawn, she
is ashes and loose threads, but has just
enough time to repair herself by noon.
Sticks And Stones
Sticks and Stones
Sticks and stones will break my bones,
But words will slowly kill me
Hurricanes will break my home,
But storms will never kill me
Death is not an experience,
we can wait for in life*
Guns will be the death of me,
If I pull the trigger
Cuts from Knives will make me bleed,
But bandages will heal them
Emotions though can cut deeper,
Hearts will never heal.
Bombs will shatter my city,
love will shatter life
Hate will destroy this world,
Friends the only shelter **
The world will be left broken,
My words will describe it
Feedback is appreciated
But only if you want to
Where the monsters do dwellI once was afraid of the monsters in my closet
And of the ghouls under my bed
But even they do quake in fear of those that reside inside my head.
Words Unspoken"Hey, what's the matter?"
Everything is falling apart
And I know in my heart
Nothing is alright
I try and struggle and fight,
But nothing is as planned,
Like winds stealing sand,
It's all gone at the end of the day,
And I just need someone to tell me it's okay'
Take Me Away. I Can't Take Another Day.Words can't describe what I want to say.
Words just don't fit.
I want to show you.
To make you feel.
To make you understand.
She is depressed.
She thinks life is hell.
Cutting is good.
Help is bad.
Her thoughts suffocate her.
She could be sat next to you in class.
Thinking about which day would be her last.
She can't say how she feels.
She can't show love.
She can't show anger.
She doesn't know how to.
Thats why you don't here her voice.
She doesn't know how to talk to others.
She knows she'll get it wrong.
She knows they don't understand.
She feels like she has no place.
She feels like she has no one.
She doesn't want anyone.
And then she does.
And then she doesn't.
She wants death.
She wants pain.
But no one knows the pain.
It's so strong.
It's so heavy.
It's so exhuasting and draining.
She has lost.
She has given up.
She cries writing this because this is the truth.
This is the pain.
This is what can't be put in w
excuses for why I'm shakingwe live in a world of apologies.
I made a mistake a year back,
choosing my addiction to oxygen
over less demanding things.
I’m sick of trembling for problems
that aren’t mine and I’m sick of trying
to romanticize black holes and
the indiscriminate nature of lithium and
I’m sick of waking up every morning
feeling sick. and truly, I’m sorry
but I’m not ready to accept my role
in the making of myself. I’m not ready
to lament for those with a smaller
pain tolerance, and for my dislike
of anything that requires commitment.
I’m sorry I miss you and I’m sorry
I won’t admit that out loud.
how scary is it to be something
so unalterably heavy, to be diagnosed
as your own worst enemy, but god,
you’re so fucking beautiful,
and not in the stereotypical boy
meets girl meets fairytale way, but
the kind that makes my heart
bleed a million miles quicker.
I just wanted to cry on all
your scars and wash them clean.
when things are bad for
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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