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Her Aesthetic CrusadeShe paints a world of crimson midnight,
and you watch the sanguine colors drip down her skin.
Wilted rose petals stain her wrist scarlet,
and canyons are carved deep in porcelain flesh.
"Battle scars," she tells you simply with a flick of the paintbrush,
meticulous as she resumes her sanguine masterpiece.
"Have you won?" you ask,
though you already know the answer.
She smiles fondly and holds up the tormented easel,
for all to see the newly wrought crevice of flaming burgundy.
"How can one win this war against the burning red, my friend,
when you can barely win the battle against yourself?"
PulsateWhat is a heartbeat,
without the heart?
What is a dream,
without the conscience?
What is a word,
without the letters?
What is a hope,
without the faith?
What is a soul,
without the self?
What is a kiss,
without the love?
What am I,
DreamDon't ever stop feeling what you want to feel. Reel in all the emotions you care to hold deep inside you, and nurture them within your heart. Embrace the sensation of being the only one to truly change your future, as long as you shove past all your doubts and reach the highest capacity your fingers can brush against. Advance towards your goal with your courage for a sword, justice for a shield, and all your hope forging the rest of your armor to brave every adversity you face. Make your passions you have in life happen, as long as you remember to accomplish one simple act.
To My Guardian AngelDear guardian angel,
Don't be too offended by this, but...are you even real? Are you watching me type this out right now, this second, like you should be? Or are you just some entity that is said to exist, but in reality, it's just a lie?
I want to know, if you are real, then why haven't I exactly gotten the guidance I need lately. Why haven't you protected me, like you're said to do, from all the things in my life that make me feel like I'm dying inside?
Why haven't you protected me from myself?
If you have tried, then, well...obviously you haven't tried hard enough for me to realize it or sense it.
Please. Try harder.
If you are truly real, guardian angel, then you know about my beliefs. You know that all those religious ideals that were drilled into me from the first day I could comprehend what the word "God" meant are slowly being replaced by nothing but cynical skeptism. You know that sometimes I would rather put what "faith" I do have in demons as opposed to angels,
An Obituary To My ChildhoodDearly beloved; we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a very special and dear friend to all of us...our Childhood.
Childhood. Ah, I remember you as clear as yesterday. You were certainly my truest friend throughout the years--with you, I could do anything. I could be anything.
Do you remember that for every white rabbit you saw, there was a hole with Wonderland awaiting you close by?
Do you remember when those shimmers in the air on a really hot day was actually Tinkerbell, trying to give you some pixie dust?
Do you remember seeing something out of the corner of your eye, and automatically you knew it was something from an enchanted forest just waiting for you to follow?
I do. I remember it all. Back then, imagination was the true form of currency. What are these "checks" and "credit cards" you speak of? All I need to do is think really hard, and I'll have some gold to give you!
But those days are over. We are not allow
Welcome to WonderlandFalling down, down, down
Spinning 'round and 'round
All around, the ticking of clocks
Such a discordant sound
Right is left and left is right
Night is day and day is night
Up is down and down is up
Life is death and death is life
Voices whisper from every niche
Screams echo and cause a twitch
Claws and teeth threaten to kill
Eyes wild with bliss of such a thrill
Run, hide, fight, or plead
Nothing shall work, nothing you need
The sun and moon will laugh as you cry
As the Queen shrieks her commands to the sky
Blood forms penumbras as heads roll
A cry of defiance with each bell toll
The jury turns in accord, madness shining bright
Their question full of words to make your skin crawl with fright
"ArE yOu AlIcE?"
T i c k
T o c k
T i c k
T o c k
"OfF wItH hEr HeAd!"
~Welcome to Wonderland, Alice~
For YouYour heart may bleed diamonds,
but they all they see is dust.
Your soul may run black with ink,
yet they see it as pandemonium.
The miasmas you feel in your mind are not discord,
but a precious, beautiful gift meant solely for you.
The letters care not
however you arrange them;
perfection is perfection
when it comes from your veins.
These worlds exist for you created them—
there is no such thing as
as long as you know their universes.
Cry and laugh and weep and smile,
for the blossoms you water shall grow
into a microcosm of your own design.
You are a god and a king,
a queen and a demon,
whose words shall turn
heartstrings to gold.
Freedom is the only chain you must break in half,
life is the only prison you must escape from,
and the truth is the only lie you must forget.
Vengeful phantoms in a corporeal form walk the earth;
humanity will spite you for you let
FrostbittenWinter is her favorite time of the year.
It's beautiful. Silver and blue dance around with one another in a waltz of freezing passion as snow and ice douse the land in a blanket of boreal glamour. Glass windowpanes become easels for falling snowflakes, frost etching into the smooth surfaces in intricate and unique patterns.
Winter has always been her favorite time of the year, and it always will be.
It is not because of Christmas--no, even though she loves the holiday, it is not what sparks her strong fondness for the star-colored blanketing across the land. Her infatuation with the snow and ice and everything cold has to do with something that most people don't truly believe in.
A boy whom she met long ago.
She still remembers the day like it was yesterday. Running around in the forest, laughing and tasting the snowflakes as they fell down into her parted lips and melting immediately on her tongue. All bundled up as a precaution, even though the winter has always been kind to h
Sweet EmilyEmily is six years old.
Emily lives with Mommy and Daddy in a big house.
Emily doesn't have very many friends because she doesn't go to school, but that's okay!
Emily has Tabitha! Tabitha and Emily are best friends. Tabitha looks like Emily, too! They both have blonde hair, though Tabitha always has hers in pig tails. They both have green eyes, too. Mommy and Daddy tell Emily that her green eyes means she has a biiiiig imagination; so that means Tabitha does, too! But sometimes Mommy and Daddy don't believe Emily when she tells them all the fun she and Tabitha have together…
They don't believe Emily when she tells them that it was Tabitha who used up all of Mommy's lipstick to make a picture on the wall. They don't believe Emily when she tells them that Tabitha was the one who broke the special plates in the locked cupboard that Emily can't reach. They don't believe Emily when she tells them anything Tabitha does, and it isn't Emily's fault.
"Oh, Emily, darling…it's pe
A Disease Called Loneliness...A Disease Called Loneliness...
Loneliness is a disease,
a sickness of sorts.
It is debilitating,
mind numbingly painful.
It is something
that can never go away on it's own.
No drugs have been invented
that can cure it and
no therapy can help treat it.
It is something that starts
with a broken heart and
can take your breath away
even in mid sleep waking you
as your lungs gasp for air.
Then when you think
it can get no worse.
It begins to spread
throughout your entire body
like a dreadful cancer.
I can feel it in the pit of my stomach now.
Gnawing away at both
my insides and my Soul...
as it creeps it's way outwards
tainting everything it touches...
I have felt traces of it
in my elbows and knees
and through out my arms and legs...
all the way to my fingers and toes.
Making me feel much older than I should.
So bad now in fact, people ask if I'm alright.
I do not make any noise,
I try and keep a straight face.
I try to act like all is ok.
But they say I look paler...
New Years (PrussiaXReader)It was New Years eve and you’d agreed (foolishly) to let your boyfriend invite his two friends over for the celebration. He’d promised it would be fun and said the more the merrier, but still! Well, it was your own fault for allowing it and besides, they’d probably get too drunk and pass out anyway.
You were just finishing up in the kitchen, the red apron that was tied around your neck bearing the brunt of the traces of ingredients. Gilbert was ‘helping’ too by sneaking a taste of whichever nibbly things you created and telling you how awesome they were no matter how many times he got clobbered by the various skillets that were lying around.
He cheered when he heard the doorbell ring and ran off to get tackled by his friends. After greeting each other loudly, they swaggered into the room, completing their Bad Touch Trio, as they called themselves, with identical smirks on their faces.
“Hola chica, I hope you’re going to take as much care of us
Pity's PartyCome on, just look at me,
I lost Happy to Misery,
In a dance with Pedigree,
Amidst the sirens of Apathy,
In the mosh pit in my head.
Can't you see how fun I am?
When my Pride's on the lam,
Sipping Sorrow like Baby Cham,
Falling foul of Honesty's scam,
On the dance floor in my chest.
I look so grievously good,
Doing what Agony should,
And what Depravity would,
In command of the red regiments stood,
On the catwalk of my wrist.
I can hear them pounding,
Watching and surrounding,
Laughing and floundering,
With Pain and Woe hounding,
In the nightclub of my gut.
My guests are saying to,
Cheer no longer pulling through,
Despair sticking like glue,
With Sin ready to sue,
At the opera in my throat.
Watch me as I lose control,
As Loneliness takes it's toll,
Filling out Insanity's role,
Joining Death's lost shoal,
Inside the crypt of life.
See my eyes flutter and fade,
Marching in the Black Parade,
Finding shelter in Hate's shade,
And losing all I had ever made,
As the curtain closes,
To a dozen
"I want to kill myself" she screams at me,
"My life is worthless and I want to be free!"
"I'm fed up of living" she repeats to my ear,
It's like her mind is made up, my deepest fear.
I'll do everything in my power to stop her now,
Get between her and the blade, if time will allow.
Her blood could be spilt upon my hand,
But I'll pressure the wound while I still stand.
Limit the damage, keep her from slipping away,
Not now, not ever, and especially not today.
A ToastTo stand tall when the world
Wants you down, dead, gone.
To fight when the one you fight
For doesn't want to be
To live when living hurts too
Much and you just wanna be
To dance, to smile, to sing,
And to laugh,
When you know it's gonna
Piss someone off.
To hold the one you love
Tight to your chest,
Even when that loved one
To look at your body and
Seeing mismatched parts.
To cry at night because you're
Scared you'll never see him again.
To look at your legs laced up
With lavender thread.
To saying sorry for something
That you should never have to
Say sorry for.
To the pain of knowing that you
Hurt the one you love, out of
To the chance of walking on,
To making the world a better place.
To mistakes and triumphs.
To all the things that make me,
Thanks. I wouldn't have it any other way.
In Heaviness We Are HappySometimes hearts become heavy, this doesn't necessarily mean that they are unhappy. It simply implies that they have become weighed down by love. They've lived life and, although their bearers have tasted misery, still survived to breathe another day. That's special. If you've never cried tears of true sorrow then you haven't smiled with true happiness either.
Hearts become heavy because love isn't like helium. Love doesn't float in the clouds, it is weighty like metal. That's what makes love so precious, because like gold we cannot afford to lose it. You see, because of love's heaviness, we notice when it's gone.
Sometimes hearts become heavy, this doesn't necessarily mean that they are unhappy. Light hearts are lonely hearts, they've nothing to grasp onto. There is nothing to attach their insubstantial forms to reality, and so that is why some hearts are heavy. It's because they are alive.
I broke a mirrorI broke a mirror today.
What it showed me horrified me, so it didn't deserve to live.
The mirror's image was terrible,
it was an ugly mirror, it lied.
It deserved to die.
I crushed it into a million beautiful,sparkling shiny peices with my clunky bare hands.
They carved into my already torn skin, spillling lovely rivulets of red onto the floor.
The mirror was beautiful now that my reflection was gone from it.
When you read this, you'll probably notice that I'm not at home, nor at yours or wherever we both were most of the time. But, although you can't see me, I'm sure of it that I'm right next to you, rubbing your back gently as you read this. I know this is going to hurt you, and believe me when I say I really didn't mean to but I couldn't go on anymore. I just couldn't stand the pain, the torture, the way they always bullied us or should I say me.
You were the first one I really trusted, Brian. You were the first one I could laugh with, the first one I could tell my secrets too. And I did tell you a lot of secrets. I found it really hard to tell you the biggest one, that I was gay and that I loved you. I thought you were going to end our friendship and never wanted to see me again, but instead of all that, you kissed me. You just kissed me and told me you loved me too. I've never been so happy Brian, never.
But things started to change after that. Of cours
I Suffer:Iconletter-iplz: :Iconletter-splz::Iconletter-uplz::Iconletter-fplz::Iconletter-fplz::Iconletter-eplz::Iconletter-rplz:
Why do I suffer?
Is it because I did something wrong?
Is it because they hate me?
Is it because they don't understand me?
Why do I feel pain?
Is it something in the way I'm disciplined?
Perhaps it's the blood that runs down my arm?
Could it be the hurt I feel inside?
Why is this happening to me?
Does it happen without a purpose?
Might it be some sort of coincidence?
Perhaps it happens for a reason?
Does anybody hear my cries?
Is it because no one notices or cares?
Might it be they want to say it but can't?
Can they understand where I'm coming from?
Where is the light they speak of?
Is it at the end of the tunnel?
Is it deep inside my soul?
Is it somewhere we'll never see?
So tell me, do we really have to suffer at all?
SweepAs soon as he stepped into the open field, he slung the minesweeper from his shoulder and pointed its nose to the ground. It was old, worn and heavy, and old and rough, calloused and breaking, and old. The metal between his hands was cold and chilled his fingers. If he was not careful he could step on the very mines he was trying to find. They would have to pick up the pieces of his body and to send the tags home where his wife would cry and hold his son and daughter close with nothing to show them of their father but a piece of metal engraved with "Ajeet Singh".
One sweep, than another.
This war had taught him to never trust open spaces. Open spaces were where the mines were planted, where Prets lay in wait. France was green and damp just like the uniform he wore. It had been days since he was separated from his unit, and now the Allies were breathing on his neck, searching for POW’s, searching for the enemy of which he was one. &
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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