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Now.Look at me dead in the eye.
What would you see?
Don't hold me accountable for someone I use to be.
You broke me, but I was already on the ground.
Every stitch in my mind and heart, for every blow you made.
But look at me now.
I stood up
I became strong
I got on my feet and hands and crawled back to who I was.
I would never let my wounds convert me into something I am not.
So if you're looking for another play doll to spit at,
I can't be that role anymore.
I went through beyond hell and never gave up to be where I am, who I am, and what I have today.
I'll leave behind my footsteps of the past,
As I am walking towards the future.
And you can get lost in them,
For all I care.
Our Hearts Tied.Close your eyes
Take my hand
And enter a magical wonderland.
Time is fast, life is tough
Like bitter water waves as thick and rough.
People are cruel, demons are shrewd
All you see are cynical feuds.
But let's close our eyes, clasp hands and pray
To love and live for another day.
Like a flower in a meadow, like a shell on sand
Our hearts tied, brings beauty to this land.
With your tears and sighs, you ask me why..
Well I love you for a reason, didn't I?
Cruxifiction of The AngelHer heart washed pure of sins. Walked the lonely paths of purgatory. Felt neglected as if no one bothered to give her a smile. She came across a demon. He gave his love to her and took her in. Not knowing it was a trap she gave him her heart and came to life. Condemned for what she believed in. Sentenced to be charred for her merciful actions, her spirit now belongs to the cross. A soul who loved everyone and now she hears the death toll ring. Bewitched by the devil and possesed by evil, overwhelmed her. Forced against her will to do not what she have wished. "Forgive me Lord" was her final words as her body was nailed to the cross as a victory for Satan.
Perfectly Imperfect.They have imperfections. Flaws too easily seen. Bruises run up their arms. Cuts stream down their faces. Their hearts are pure as artic water and blossom like gorgeous newborn flowers. They never thought love was possible and believed that only good things happen to perfect people. But perfect people never cry, never drink, never hurt, and never exist. And if you see with your heart, and listen with your eyes, you can see a lot more beauty than ever imagined before. How would've you ever found out they had hearts if you never had one yourself?
EntwineI sit at the edge of a cliff. My feet dangle off.
I'll close my eyes, listen to my soul breathe
And my heart pump
And drift away with the wind.
I'll feel the clouds devour my being
And listen to the air swirl in my lungs and errupts out of my throat.
I'll be safe, as long as the wind carries me and the sky watches over me
As long as the moon lights my way and the stars do not lie.
I'll land in a vast ocean of dreams
And of my wishes.
I'd wish for love, for family, for something with beauty within.
And if I open my eyes now,
What will I see?
HumanA dried up leaf.
Me: Someone that couldn't hang onto life anymore.
Me: Someone who found their place in this world.
A rotting bud on a tree
Me: Someone is letting go and it's time.
A little girl catching a flying rose petal.
Me: Someone who found their heart.
A little boy holding hands with another boy.
Me: Something beautiful and magical that can never be judged.
A bird leaving its nest.
Me: Someone brave enough to find their path.
A runaway child.
Me: A bond was torn.
Me: A human.
WingsI saw someone who wasn't confident enough. Who couldn't stand up for what they believed in. You couldn't stand on your two feet, and when you did you fell. It was cute to watch, but I always tried to stand you upright. You were always bashful and couldn't fly. But I became your wings and was determined to give you a boost. I held you close, for the time we had together was limited. When it was time, you became your own wings, bid a farewell to your home, and took off. The wind became your heart, your soul spreaded away amongst the clouds.
It took a while for you to learn to run and be free, and when you did, you were long gone.
So fly away my dear and never come back. I miss you very much, but there comes a time when you have to sacrifice and let go. And if you don't come around, you were never mine to begin with.
A Pretty Little ThingShe puts herself above others. Twists the hearts of those around. Corrupts the mind and brings it to total, bottomless darkness. And creates chaos so skillfully, it's as if every drop of blood is a work of art. She kills without mercy and dances the night away with a knife in her hand. She weaves impurity into the veins of the poor and reap the souls of children.
She never realized her actions, until one day the town folks prepare for a burn at stake.
Some say she practices witchcraft, some say she was born evil. Some say she was the daughter of Satan.
I watch as her body diminishes into ashes and her spirit burns away with the flames. It leaves behind a crimson aura, so tranquil and enchanting.
Oh my. What a shame. I thought she was a pretty little thing.
The Boy and The BlindfoldI'm sitting on the sidewalk of the street with a friend.
We both saw a child crossing the street.
A car was coming fast, honking its horn at the boy.
He only stood there
And shut his eyes.
I ran out to the streets, pushed the boy out of the way, and grabbed his shoulders.
I shook him and yelled, "WHAT ARE YOU, MAD?! COULD YOU NOT SEE NOR HEAR THE CAR COMING?!"
"I can hear the car coming. But not see."
I stared in his eyes, bewildered. But realized,
This boy was blind.
"BUT YOU DIDN'T RUN WHEN YOU HEARD THE CAR?"
"You don't understand life, don't you?" He shook off my grip and walked away. I was confused yet furious.
I have just saved his life yet he says I don't understand it. I come over to my friend. "Did you see that? I JUST SAVED HIS LIFE AND THAT'S ALL HE SAYS TO ME!"
"Maybe he did it for a purpose. There's a purpose behind every action."
"Pft. I don't see a purpose for standing in the street and waiting to be torn by a car."
"Hey, can you turn around for me please?"
Six Second Poem"We're all the same," she said. "Friend, tell me," she asked, "how are we different?"
For six seconds I paused, then I said:
Some of us ..
love more than we hate,
laugh more than we cry,
work harder than we play, but
live before we die.
Some of us don't.
And that, my friend, is how we are all different.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
I willI will love you
all the way to the place where ladybirds go to die,
to the lushest corners of the earth
that hold the secrets no man was meant to see
and we will find them, and know them together.
I will love you
all the way to the place where bubbles are made
at the bottom of a glass of cider
that blisters the glass with condensation
as we trade hats and laugh at the way the air smiles.
I will love you
all the way inside a branch where buds dream of Becoming,
where those one-day-flowers stir wooden hearts
into an uprising, into a blossoming life
and we will plant our ambitions there, in the blooming place.
I will love you
all the way to the square brackets that hold our boxes
because you are my best friends, and you will be
as we fold papery hands around paper-cut wrists and cry
and mourn eighty-odd years flown by too fast. Even then.
Even then, I will love you still.
I've ForgottenWhen she died
I tied a knot in my stomach
so I would remember
but I've been so busy
trying to remember her dying
I forgot how to forget.
how to let go -
and the doctors said
they would cut me open
and snip her out
a blade between the bows
and the pain, would be gone
but I've forgotten
how to let go -
and I still don't want to.
love didn't matter, but home was with youi.
there's still shadows left of you
even with the
little that remains. i wish
sometimes the light
would stop it's singing long enough
for them to grow,
my heart spends enough
time aching when
just the photographs
show their faces.
you took me
to a wedding once - it was a cold
night, and the
of stars in the sky made
it seem like God's
breath was reaching out
to earth. i don't remember
the names of the two who
indefinitely, anymore, not
when the wind's taken
in it's hold; but i remember crying because
love's just so damn
hard to find, and you
found me instead behind
the rosebushes that
were too stained to be called
me that sometimes
love doesn't matter, and
i (did)n't want to
you asked me once if anything
mattered, a lighter
gracing one hand and a
cigarette lining your
lips. i wasn't
sure back then
and i don't know
if i am now
(but i think i want to say yes).
my body never felt
unarticulatedtonight I ask myself:
where are you going with all these names
in your pockets? syllables that taste
unauthentic in the desperate American
repression is a series of images
earthbound angels breathing
flame, starving hands speaking
in tongues, glazed eyes
asking are you fucking okay
pale skin becoming moonlight,
reflecting and refracting and
the quiet understatement
The Elephant ManHe had elephant hands; swollen and tendered
by old age and wiping away childrens' crying
so they were leathered and carefully painted
with a veneer of the dust made by old books,
but when he read to me the pages didn't shake
and his throat didn't contract about the words
like they were enemies to be spat out, bloodied.
Lungs didn't shiver and eyes didn't milk, then.
Now, I see love ephemeral. I see love half-dead
and carving its riverbed path, slowly eroding;
until it can rejoin oceans once known in heaven.
Now, I see him ephemeral. I see him half-living.
I see the fear of burdenship as the only thing
that makes his eyes flicker how Pernod used to.
I see a beautiful, crumpled drawing of my hero
as my grandfather slips, wearily, back to sleep.
Diamond TearIn silence
I observe them
Laughing and having fun
While I'm in my corner
I feel out of place
I don't belong here
So I leave
And no one notices
Now I'm out on the street
A dark and silent one
Enjoying the breeze
Lost in my thoughts
Suddenly I hear a sob
And I look around
I see a girl
Sitting on a bench
A single diamond tear
Running down her face
I don't know her
No one else is around
I could just leave
But I can't
So I sit by her side and ask
Without looking her in the eyes
For a moment
And then she takes my hand
And we look
Into each other's eyes
And she whispers
Oxtails (Collab w/ TwilightPoetess)Somewhere between oxen and orchid,
where cattails and foxgloves wilt and weep
at the parting of another fleeing day
and stormed cloud-castles mutiny
against the weight of the rocksalt moon;
somewhere between flightless and fading,
where faery circles and dandelion crowns fall--
somewhere, beneath bark mosaiced with age,
you will siphon the remains of my heart--
churned smooth by false hope’s abuse--
into dehydrated dirt that groans for it.
I will clot the crumbling veins of anthills
with the iron debris that was once us,
until I become orchid or foxglove once more.
You Are Me, But I Use to be YouYou take away lives
You pillage homes
You destroy beauty
For it is a ritual.
For it is a traditional game.
You come home
Beaten and tattered
Shirt bloodstained and dignity shattered.
You look in the mirror, your past asks you,
"What do you see?"
"I don't know anymore."
Your past stares intensely in your eyes in the mirror.
"It never had to be this way. You had someone who loved you dearly. You had people who adored you. You had a family who cared for you."
You look up in the mirror with rage.
"What do you know about care? What do you know about love? Everyone fears me. Even You fear me..."
"I never feared you. I was sad because you pushed me away. I died and never came back."
You bunch your hand into a fist and smash the mirror and watches as it shatters to a million pieces and the splinters jab into your flesh.
You collapse to the ground.
"You are me. But I use to be you."
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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