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Setting sailStrong bora wide sails flutters
Loud howl that fear conceals
Moving across the sang waves
Carried by a misunderstood wind.
Exclusive and fluid agress
Shapes the flowing shaft
Devouring all progress
Leaving just a draft.
It wrecks through the air
Whistleing will ensnare
In such turbulent thirst.
Air is fluorescent
It's storms roaming in a twist
Teared by light so luminescent
Wind is an anarchist.
Penetrate through the stars in dusk
It's the emblem of divine
Wrapped in solid gold.
A painted dimension
World in a memory sphere
Issues perish inside
Blasting through peace
Until the final sunlight.
RealityReality is asleep
Heaven or hell
Shallow or deep
How can i tell?
Reality is abandoning
Existence is bonding
A lie we all have to take.
Reality is a spite
Glory or shame
Black or white
We're all the same.
Reality is a dream
Tomorrow is a better day
To carry you away.
Broken into segments
This place is what it's guarding
Fraction of such sadness.
It is a sediment
A human made of stone
To roughly represent
The history long gone.
Both heroic pose and the raised hand
Just hiding the bronze heart
With pride it stands
Unable to walk, a piece of art.
Lightless lanternI lie in golden silence
Flashing under stars
Deep darkness ascends
Onto sleepless nights.
HuntHe might have been old but before every hunt he felt the same youthful excitement.
These hills used to make him feel free, erasing all worries, drawing him away from the cruelty of the outside world.
Amnesia used to be a trait. Not this time.
Knocking just would not stop, the sounds kept repeating in his head.
He was in debt and threatened that the little he had left would be taken away.
The old man sat, hid in the nearby bushes and waited.
He was waiting for a sign.
Having learnt not to trust his instincts anymore, as years passed they slowly started to abandon him.
Never did he think that victory was ensured, a true hunter does not underestimate his prey.
At the very end he was right.
An injured deer walked out of the nearby bush, with horns ruined the animal lost both greatness and pride.
Shocked by the horrid view, tears went down his wrinkled face, in the animals' deep and focused stare he saw his weakness and fault.
Multiple times did he try to regain the strength needed to compl
I Am Lost.I am lost,
I cannot feel.
Is this sleep,
When I close my eyes?
Or is it death,
When I rest my head?
I am lost,
I cannot see.
Is this real,
When I hear your voice?
Or is it an illusion,
When I see your face?
I am lost,
I do not know
Where I am,
When I look ahead.
Or where I've been,
When I look back.
I am lost,
I have forgotten
How to speak,
When words weigh on my lips.
Or how to scream,
When terror fills my lungs.
I am lost,
I’ll never be found.
No one noticed,
When I went away.
They can see me,
But I am gone.
I Wish It Would RainI wish it would rain
That it would wash you away
Out of my skin
I wish the clouds would part
Shine light on realization
What I could be
I wish there was a rainbow
An arc of brilliant colors
A sign to give me hope
Beautiful.They say I’m beautiful
Because of the way my crystalline heart reflects light off its fractured surface
Well, that isn't a reflection
It’s rejection of the light because it’s all too much to handle
Throw myself away into the dark without even a candle
‘Cause I don’t want to recognize all the pain I’m in
Or realize the truth behind what I am or who I've been
And I tried to make things right but I just keep on making wrong
I never listened to the angel on my shoulder when she called
I count my tears like they’re experience
And my scars like they’re mysterious
And that’s a feeling I’ll remember –
Watching as you left
Watching as you ended what was meant to be forever
And I can see it in their eyes; everyone can empathize
So they say that I’m beautiful because they don’t know what else to say.
But if being broken is beautiful, then it’s the ugliest way...
BreakingI sit alone at a table in the far corner of the crowded room, easily ignored by the people around me. I can still picture my wife, sitting in the chair across from me, complimenting the soup that I sip on now, which had always seemed a little bland to me. Ever since her passing, I have been left alone, spending my days sitting in her favorite spot and thinking of the times that came before.
I hear him first, rather than see him. His shoes stomped loudly into the old folk’s home and, even though there was only one pair of feet, his footsteps sounded like a bull participating in a wild stampede. People turned to glare at him as he walked past. I did not look up.
“What has upset you, my boy?” I ask in my hoarse, aging voice, keeping my eyes glued to the lukewarm soup.
“Mother and Father won’t let me join the school’s soccer team. They offered me the goalie position.” My grandson, Matthew, whines. “They say it will take away from my studies.
Denialonce upon a time
There was a girl
Who kept to herself
And loved her wind chimes
Her life was good
And she loved it
But then her fantasy
She woke up
And she was alone
No one knew her
She felt like she was only bones
She let her days
And closed herself
From the cruel world
Then one day
Someone saw her
Who was broken too
He wanted to see her
Be with her
So he broke her walls
She finally smiled
And they lived together
For a long time
Till he died
Then she slowly
Lost herself again
To her mind
She lived in memories
And slowly faded away
But when people tried to bring her back
She would not leave
Because she could not believe
He was gone
BlindImagine your life, like a light,
Having a parent with no sight,
And at a young age, you'll know your own way home.
To guide and to see,
Your life would soon be,
And your life getting less and less bright.
Friends making jokes,
About the non-seeing folks,
And you sit in your seat, in tears.
Trying to lend you a hand,
They just don't understand,
That the pain comes from words they spoke.
Though instead, think of whose life must suffer,
Images growing much rougher,
And they can't see their child's own face.
With bumped and bruised knees,
From such, normally, avoidable injuries,
Their skin and bones simply tougher.
The colors of anything, even the color of your eye,
Or maybe those boring old birds in the sky,
Your parent can't experience at all.
While you partially hope the trait isn't genetic,
Your heart is feeling quite sympathetic,
For the one you love, who suffers, never having hurt a fly.
And then....that's when you ask, why?
I Revel in Your MiseryI revel in your misery,
you treated me so badly.
You were the manipulator,
I was the marionette.
You remained well hidden,
as you strung me along in full view.
It is your turn now to suffer,
so why am I the one who feels guilty?
You feel nothing when you do harm,
yet wanting your suffering now poisons me.
Before I can ever forgive you,
I must forgive myself.
The Betrayal yet to be Forgave.Do you wish to live or wish to die
the choice is yours and not mine.
Why destroy such a beautiful thing,
just for pointless self-hatred?
To loathers looking to despise,
from lost lovers
to the sudden outburst of cries.
The heartfelt plea
is now stubborn
but not pleasantly surprised
by your betrayal,
now the pale kiss
because you was unfaithful in my eyes.
Its an uphill struggle
trying to scrape through unscathed
knowing i was broken.
Now you ask me what is wrong
then you ask me why i speak so grave,
the fact is you don't know the truth
behind, the betrayal yet to be forgave.
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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