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The Old LadyThere is an old lady
Walking among people
She wears a veil
Of blondes and camelias
To hide her face
Sometimes, she walks past
She misses laying there
The peace she felt while resting
She's moved on
Though she's sometimes tempted
To rest in her grave
She is so old
Of course she wants a break
Emilie Autumn mashupIn the courtyard, used to sing as loud as she could
Locked away here, she’s been quiet, lovely and good
But no one listens now
She lost her voice, she had no choice
‘cause “marry me” he said through his rotten teeth, bad breath and then
Marry me instead of that strapping young goatherd but when
I was in his bed, and my father had sold me
I knew I hadn’t any choice, hushed my voice, did what any girl would do
Though I’m not your chambermaid
You’re not my lord
All the fine games we played have left me bored
So I ask him to
Meet me beneath my balcony and say
“No one but you could ever fill my night,
be the sunlight in my every day”
Misery loves company
And company loves more
More loves everybody else
But hell is others
Therefore, I want my innocence back
And if you don’t get it to me
I will cut you down
Rusty Steel syringe? Check!
There’s nothing more you can do
I’m gonna blame it on yo
RelativesIs this my fault?
Is it I who did this to you?
Killed you, made you hate yourself
Bury yourself deep under the ground
It was not intentional
I walk to your grave
Not every day, not even every week
But every now and then
I could say I miss you
But no, you are nothing to me
As I am nothing to you
You are something to me
A rose who withered in front of my eyes
I tried to put you in some water
But you just would not stay there
I wonder, if we had known
What the future would bring
Would we then had chosen the same way?
Walked this path together
Only to part our ways in the end
I miss you
Do you miss me?
I hate you
Do you hate me?
My loved oneI know you hate it
But if you could just see
Why I need to tell you
I do not want to hurt you
Believe me, never will I
I just really need you
I know I don’t deserve you
Yet, please never leave me
What a burden it would be
A happening I would not bear
To experience, to see
I need you to be with me
Need to be in your hands
I need to stay with you
I know I don’t deserve you
So please, my Love, do not
Pretend that I do
How can you? Don’t you see?
I will nothing but hurt you
You say no, but you’re wrong
Love will slowly kill
So let us die together
So none of us will mourn
Let us be together
And never walk alone
GalskapenHennes ord vil alltid hjemsøke meg. Måten hun hadde smilt til meg på, hvordan øynene hennes skinte.
-La oss dø, Hadde hun sagt mens hun lo. Det hadde virket som hun mente det, hvert eneste ord. –La oss dø…
Jeg sto på kanten igjen. Klippen virket så stor, så høy. Det var her hun hadde gått bort. Hun hadde bare hoppet. Eller, falt. Hun hadde snudd ryggen til klippen for å se på meg.
-La oss dø, Sa hun før hun lente seg bakover; før hun lot seg selv falle. Jeg hadde ikke reagert i det hele tatt, jeg hadde vært altfor paralysert til å gjøre noe. Ikke før flere sekunder klarte jeg å reagere, og løp mot kanten av stupet. Jeg kunne fortsatt se henne falle. Jeg så henne treffe bakken. Jeg så henne bli knust til tusen biter.
_La oss dø, Det hadde vært en spøk. En spøk hun hadde fortalt om og om igjen fl
Sea farerOnce I travelled on a sea
land was far away
My ship sank and I came to thee
I could not swim away
Once I travelled on the sea
Until I fell into the water
I was dragged under by thee
Down into the water
Once I travelled on the sea
Luckily, I came back
Survivor of the ocean was me
Too scarred to ever go back
Once I travelled on the sea
The ocean possessed a demon
I was able to away from it flee
I'm no food for demons
The MadnessWARNING: Must be read on your own risk. Changes you might find the content disturbing or scary may be high. For further information, please read the description in the text.
Her words would always haunt me. The way she had smiled at me, with her eyes shining.
-Let’s die, she had said, laughing. I had seen she had meant it, every single word. –Let’s die…
I was standing on the edge again. The cliff seemed so huge, so tall. It was here she had passed away. She had just jumped. Well, fallen. She had turned the back to the cliff and looked at me.
-Let’s die, she had said before leaning backwards, letting herself go. I hadn’t reacted at all, had been too paralyzed to do anything. Not before several seconds had passed, I started running to the edge. I could see her falling, still. I saw her hit the ground. I saw her being smashed into pieces.
-Let’s die, it had been a joke she had told repeatedly for so many weeks before the incident. Her humor had a
I am a MouseI am a mouse.
I am quiet, I am nothing.
I am a book that nobody has read.
I am an eclipsed sun and a cloaked moon.
I am irrelevant and unwanted, a broken toy in an attic.
I am the dust in your rear-view mirror that you leave behind.
I am the air that you breathe in and spit out as something different.
I am the palest white. I am the darkest black. I am the dullest, emptiest grey.
I am the old man with forgotten memories and the baby who has yet to make them.
I am a forgotten word, dangling on the tip of your tongue, hanging on the noose of your lips.
I am a dried up stream. I am a felled forest. I am an abandoned cornucopia of resolute nothingness.
And there is Hell burning in my eyes.
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
you talk like a travestyoh, mercury boy, you can't
write your way out of this
body or out of this mind;
you can pray like it's high-fashion,
insist you're only burning yourself out
(but tell me - do you feel like a god yet?)
if only for murky mirrors &
silver cicadas caught
in your ribcage, you've
got a knack for decaying
poem for borderlinesif i could concentrate over
seven hundred thousand eyes
at the roof to the numbers stepping
from the nicities & rows
to go back
to the shattered surface
& the ripples beating over the hang
halfway between shallow
biting lips. maybe--
she couldn't have known
that it takes a whole three minutes
for the lungs to
well, maybe she
who, oh well
the white; the haze--
the booming over
the spume and spray
me get out of my head
just pull up the shutters
my tongue the weight to talk
but that's all we'll ever be:
a match burning itself out for
under the backspray of someone else's wheels
The PointIt’s the taste of cake mix on the spoon, that first time you ‘help’ bake a cake.
It’s seeing the bright world afresh after a dark nightmare, when you first wake.
It’s when you make them laugh and, in that moment, everyone loves a clown.
It’s when your heart stops before the roller coaster plummets down, down.
It’s when the lights go out before your favourite band plays and you scream.
It’s that moment you look around and everything’s perfect enough to be a dream.
It’s the anticipation of waiting for a new episode of your favourite television show.
It’s the first time you listen to your favourite record and you just sort of know.
It’s reading a book cover-to-cover and a million times more and still crying at the ending.
It’s the stiff, tight, real feeling of a smiling scab as you watch the wound mending.
It’s when you first meet your best friend and you hate each other (but in a good way).
CryDon`t you see my tears?
I`m crying for you
I`m crying for what I lost
And for what I never had
I`m crying for what I`ll never get
But I`m not sure
Why I cry today
It is said that words
Can hurt more than you think
And indeed, they can
But my tears are not
For the spoken words
At least, they are not this time
I cry for the words no one said
I cry for the silence that came
No one ever told me
What they wanted to say
Their thoughts remained unspoken
I lost the most precious thing in life
I lost the key
To my happiness
I`m searching for it, everyday,
But I just can`t find it
I`ve lost my sight
My eyes are covered
Covered with all these tears
Why can`t you see
The emptiness I feel?
Why can`t you look
Behind the smile I put on?
When I say "everything`s fine"
Just know that I am lying
So you don`t have to feel
The same as I do
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
Un roti de Cupidon"Patron.. je suis pas sûr que ça soit une si bonne idée..."
Un bruissement d'ailes presque froufroutant sur sa gauche le fit se retourner d'un bond, mais il ne put percevoir qu'un bref mouvement du coin de l'oeil. Ils étaient rapides, bien trop rapides. Jamais le vieux ne réussirait. De nouveau ce bruit soyeux, semblable à des ailes de tourterelles, mais bien plus proche. Dans son esprit il pouvait les voir, tournant au dessus de sa tête comme autant de vautours prêts à la curée.
Le bruit assourdi des détonations résonna et tout autour d'Emmanuel une pluie de plumes commença à virevolter tandis que cinq bruits sourds accompagnaient la chute d'autant de corps autour de lui.
"Ramasse les, petit. On a encore du boulot."
Avec une grimace mi admirative, mi dégoûtée, le jeune homme se mit au travail, enfilant des lourds gants de cuir pour se protéger. Son sup
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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