|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Numbers aren't unfeelingNumbers aren’t unfeeling.
They aren’t simply digits on a page.
They hold every moment in their universal shape.
I know somewhere in them, you’re there.
But I can’t find you.
All I can see are the numbers marking the time passed.
Days, weeks, months.
Seconds, Minutes, Hours.
Moments lost forever.
And in all the moments to come from now until infinity
You will never be there for them.
I just want to shatter into a million pieces
And be able to pick them up
And count each shard
In the hopes that when I’ve collected every fragment
You’d still be here.
But that’s not how the numbers work.
They can only mark places in time
But they can’t return that time to you.
With every instant that passes, I lose a little more of you
Another memory fades
Slipping away from my faulty mind
Lost to numbers never to be seen again.
Numbers aren’t unfeeling.
But they aren’t kind either.
PeopleWe all have our scars, a story behind each one
We’ve all had our moment where our worlds came undone
Were we ever not hurt by reality?
Were we born flawed, never to be pristine?
You feel so alone, your only comfort your words
You talk ‘till you’re blue, but you’re never heard
You’ve fallen and have shattered more times than you can count
And after all this time you just can’t figure it out
Why then? Why now? Why ever? Why you?
I may not know the answer, but I know I’ve been there too
Broken minds, broken hearts, broken bones, broken systems
Give them all to me and I’ll try my best to fix them
We’re all missing pieces, all in different places
Taken by misfortune, leaving aching spaces
Let me give you the missing parts that you desperately need
And in return, I know you’ll do the same for me
So that in the darkest moments, when we feel we’ve lost control
We can hold each other closer, and maybe togeth
Scattered Ashes He had every moment planned
He knew exactly what he wanted.
And he wasn’t the kind of man
To eternally rest- wallow, he would have said-
Beneath the cold, unloving earth.
It was far too dirty for him.
And the earth was too stubborn
To bend to his whim.
Water would take him wherever he wished
So he chose it to be the final bed
Upon which he would lay.
Underneath perfect, painted skies
He was ceremoniously taken
To the hungry sea
Which ate these little flecks
That I still cannot understand
To be the only remaining evidence
That he was physically here.
Heart, LessHeart, Less
I have the capacity to love, you know
Or at least, a long time ago I did.
But then, maybe it was merely a bid to prove I could;
That there was someone who would care for me,
Love me unconditionally, willing to lose
Their life for me, someone who would choose to follow
Such a route. But you all now see me as hollow, and I suppose
That is because of the path I chose, for power and insight
I may have given up the right to be seen as a creature
Most gentle and kind. Perhaps I have lost that feature in my quest
To become a ruler. But my heart never rests, and some small
Amount of love is there, not for all but for one.
I gave him the sun and the moon, he gave me the stars and the sky
It felt like it would be like this forever. But I was wrong. On the worst day
Of my life, he was taken away, murdered by bandits.
I had lost everything, I lost my wits, then I lost our unborn child...
Then I had a wild and crazy thought.
While I was overwrought with grief, I considered a way t
Why do you avoid me?
Why do you think you can avoid me?
Your medicine keeps me away, but not forever.
You love life, but there's one fact you cannot avoid.
With every life comes the promise of death.
You find me ugly, but I disagree.
It is life that lacks beauty.
You all remember more bad experiences than good.
Have fallen more times than you can count.
What's nice about a break-up? A divorce? Depression? Bullying? Pain? Failure?
Life is uncertain. Death is not. You can count on me.
I'm beautiful, you know.
I can be prettier than life.
I am prettier than life.
What am I?
The end of life.
The end of pain, of suffering.
I bring people together.
The hundreds that gather to view the casket,
An elaborate holding for your dearly departed,
In which they shall rest on white satin,
In their best clothes,
No one remembers the bad they did.
The good memories are cherished instead.
Isn't Heaven an
Similar Reflections: Part 6 (NaNoWriMo 2012)Caden refused to speak with her parents, and after a week of trying to reason with her, they had given up. She hadn’t spoken with Ror either, for fear that her parents might hear her again. She left the window open at all times so that they could see each other, but it was still very hard on them. The other Portal Conduits had given them a lot of support throughout all of this, though no one really knew what they would be able to do. It was one thing to simply send someone to a shrink, but to completely remove the mirrors meant there was no way to communicate with one’s other.
She thought everything was okay, despite giving her parents the cold shoulder. But when she arrived home from school, she saw a large moving van in the driveway.
She felt her heart flutter in her chest. She pulled her makeup mirror out of her pocket, trying to contact Ror. They both kept a small mirror with them at all times, using them as a kind of cell phone to communicate with each other on t
Uniting Dusk and Dawn - Chapter 11Dorro looked down at his hands in disgust. And to think, I was ordered to kill her just a few days ago . He clenched his hands into fists. He wasn't trained to be an assassin, yet he willingly volunteered for the job. Seeing her had jolted his memory, but he was pleased that he was able to keep his composure. Despite remembering what had transpired the last time they met, he was unable to remember what had driven him to want to kill her, or how he was injured in the first place. He wasn't sure if he wanted to remember either.
He thought that Edina saving his life was a sign that he had been forgiven for his terrible sin. He was prepared to protect her with his life.
He heard rustling to the right of him. Taking out his dagger, he moved in the direction of the sound. He carefully pulled back the moving bushes, revealing a pair of golden, cat-like eyes. The rest of the animal slinked out, which turned out to be a vixen.
" I'm sorry ," the fox said, her beautif
Uniting Dusk and Dawn - Chapter 10It had been two days since Edina had been refused entry to the town. She had been waiting for someone -anyone- to pass in this direction and put her plan into action. Hopefully, her innocent look, along with the sad story she had weaved would convince someone to allow her entry.
Around midday, she sensed the presence of someone around eighty metres away. They held the same presence as the guards, and were headed in the direction of the gate. They may be my only chance in, she thought. She was running out of provisions, and had to restock soon.
I was probably a long shot, but Edina was desperate for civilization and company.
By the time she had reached this person, he had stopped walking. He was just standing, a blank stare in his violet eyes and a far away smile on his thin lips. Moments later, he collapsed.
Edina, wary, decided to check his thoughts to make sure he was really unconscious. She saw a collection of strange faces passing through his mind, all of which brought fea
It's Not About YouNo one understands
What it's like
To be on the other side.
To feel so
Like your life costs less
Than a penny.
In that moment
No one understands
Of total defeat
And all this
Not by your doing
But at the hands
Because in their moment
You just weren't
No, it's not about you.
It's about them.
Because they need help.
It's. Not. About. You.
Why isn't it?
No one understands
Like you need someone too.
No one understands
How it hurts
To be unable
To trust the one you gave
No one understands
How hard it is.
"Why did you do it?"
No one understands
What it's like
To feel lost
In this way.
To simply not
I Fell AsleepI fell asleep
In the arms of the enemy.
My worst mistake,
As I let his words get to me.
I left my life
In the hands of a killer.
I trusted my blood
To a man who's a murderer.
I closed my eyes
As he lulled me away.
I loosened my grip
As he began to sway.
I fell asleep
In the arms of the enemy.
I lost my life,
but I lost my life willingly.
wishing wells and pumpkin shells
coffee with mint cream
wedding bells and magic spells
life is but a dream
mother says it's rain today
drought's been sixteen years
pigs will fly and cats will stray
seventeen brings tears
hooting owls and leopard prowls
burn the midnight sun
men with jowls eat fattened cows
never had such fun
father says it's time to go
new year's 'round the bend
can't be late for nature's show
fish-face now the trend
dreamer's dream and lover's love
wishing time would fly
blue moonbeam on heaven's dove
hope I never die
Needle of the PineYou're a needle of the pine, my dear -
a poking of the spine, a narrow rod
to gently prod my heart in waters brine.
And when I fall, you pull me tall
to bask in heaven's shrine, for what you are
'tis not sub-par, my needle of the pine.
Without MythologiesWithout Mythologies
If I could, I would make you a raging river,
With angry rapids supplied with rain
So you could always meander, and forever be able to run away
Without contending with myths wrongly interpreted - with pain.
- John K. Samson
We’re watching the sun drown in a lake,
your eyes are far away and you say you wish
you were the wind.
You stretch out your arms like tired old wings,
and say you hope one day the sky
will just swallow you up. In that last sliver
of light, I tell you that you have it all wrong.
You could never be something so invisible as wind,
(It’s cool breathe makes us shiver,)
If I could, I would make you a raging river.
I’d turn your fingertips to salty spray,
your bones to smooth
Your lips would kiss the ocean each day,
your gut would fill with fish and frogs.
Your fidgeting toes never forced still again.
I’d turn your heart into a waterfall,
And last of all I’d make
those rushing waters from your brain,
LoveThis torturous feeling that engulfs my heart
And sends me spiraling into the dark
This chide that repeats itself within my mind
And berates me with remarks of what I sought to find
Dead and asleep, I have walked this earth
This waltz of sorrow I’ve repeated since birth
But the steps started to change, as I grew
And as I felt my hand being grabbed, I knew
That something unknown to me would soon grow
A feeling within me, that’s both friend and foe
The empty space has been filled
And open the door to that once sealed
Cupid’s arrow hit its mark
And sent me spiraling into the dark.
Backwards HateAnd that is the truth.
I don't love you.
it is simply senseless to say
you are a positive and critical thinker.
an inept, naive person,
you're most definitely not
very smart and clever.
instead, you are
ignorant and foolish,
mindful and attentive.
you make people
hateful of you,
trying to be a positive influence.
forever shall I find you
achieve only little in life,
never striving to
be unique and creative.
that's why it's not hard to believe that you aim to
"only be mediocre, untalented and uninteresting."
backwards thinking to ever tell you
"you are worthy of love."
(now read in reverse)
SanityThe walls of this place were white,
Sanitation and cleanliness were no doubt at play.
Walking through them I search for the light,
Lost forever in this building, searching for the day,
The one where I would no longer be lost.
The rooms were empty,
Not a soul but for the ones at rest.
I wouldn’t say I felt guilty,
But what I had done, I would address,
And realize my action’s cost.
Continuing through these halls,
I can’t help but look at the paint.
I remember the red smears on the walls,
The copper scent lingering still and faint,
Yet luckily those memories I tossed.
I pass on, leaving behind this phenomenon.
I see a shred of the sun’s rays,
And quickly I leave my role of false surgeon.
Behind me the blood of my past lays,
Leaving it to the cold and frost.
The Fruit of LoveIn each passing year
another leaf falls
not unlike a tear
at each heart's call
And this sacred tree
of my barren heart
needs a caring bee
with pollen, to impart
To end this gloom
And this despair
To bring my flowers to bloom
And my fruit to bear.
The Ink Flows Swift
The ink flows swiftly: it cannot be stayed;
The words of my pen are as liquidly made:
They dance, they twirl, from every side they spring
And beautiful still is the story they sing.
This paper, it waits for me, empty and white;
It eagerly whispers: “Fill me tonight!”
I write a word, then ten, then more
And higher and higher, the story will soar.
It leaps from my fingers, it heavenward flies—
Soon, as I watch, it is lost to my eyes;
May it fly as free as the wand’ring birds—
I’ve given you life, my fluttering words.
L’encre coule, elle ne peut être haltée :
Les mots de ma plume sont aussi lisses qu’elle ;
Ils dansent, ils tournent et jaillissent de tous côtés
Et l’histoire qu’ils me chantent est belle, si belle.
Le papier blanc m’attend, patient,
Il me chuchote: « Emplisse-moi ! »
J’y mets un mot,
Keep(h)erI've been her keeper as long as I can
But now I'm ready to put her in Your hands
Because she's so hurt, she cannot see
That I am as broken and destroyed as she
I have been her keeper much longer than I should
But I had to do it, because no one else would
She doesn't take me for granted, she just doesn't realize
That for her there are things I had to sacrifice
I do not regret one thing that I've done
I can't help all, but I sort of helped one
But it's getting difficult for me to cope
Because for all that I give, I receive no hope
You are the only one who believes
In me, and makes me think there's something I can achieve
I have been strong, but You are much stronger than I
I thank You for having listened to my cry
I'm sorry that I hesitated to give her to You
I know You'll give her more than I could ever do
Just keep her safe, and treat her with care
Until I am able to be her keeper there.
Genghis Whenever we were bad my mother used to take us to the mall to see Genghis Kahn. They kept him in a dusty diorama of a Mongolian steppe, all tall grass and yurts. He sat on a throne of bone (well, plastic shaped like bone), scowling in incomprehension at the American kids who flocked around him like startled lemmings. My mother would usually push us toward him, saying things like “Tell him what you did to your father’s stamp collection.” Genghis would give a grunt, spit a wad of phlegm onto the tall grass, and give us a wizened, wrinkled grimace, as if he had to go to the bathroom.
He terrified me.
My brother couldn’t get enough of him.
When my brother got caught in my mother’s evening dress, my mother grabbed us both and dragged us to Genghis. It was a slow day, and we were the only kids crowding him. “Tell him what you did,” my mother hissed a
Keep in Touch!
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