|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
My religion My religion
It's not yours to decide
I have my reasons for choosing it.
Is my friend.
It helps me in times of sadness,
It pushes me in times of adversity,
It pushes me to put faith and assures me everything will be alright.
My religion is the one thing no one will ever take away from me.
And that is what comforts me the most.
My faith My faith should not be a deterrent.
My faith should not drive you away.
My faith should let you come
And experience what I say.
There is so much acceptance of things nowadays.
So many different things,
It gets ScArY.
How my faith seems to be the odd one
How my faith is not part of this acceptance.
Why isn't it?
We spread love throughout the land,
We've had hand in the morals of humans throughout the ages.
We've given so much,
Some of us gave all we have.
So where is our tolerance?
Do we not deserve acceptance?
Why should you get it?
Why shouldn't we share it too?
To those of my faith,
Whatever happened to
"Love thy neighbor?"
"Pray for our enemy?"
"Love, and tolerance?"
Whatever happened to those?
Do not hate those who aren't like us.
Do not hate them at all.
Red Thread of Fame Have you ever wanted to bond
The emotions of others?
Have you ever wanted to see what they do?
What they say?
And how they view you?
Have you ever been so desperate for the fame,
That you'll manipulate the emotions of others
To get what you want?
Fame is a red string.
It is soaked with blood.
Not with our blood.
But the blood of dreams,
Being shot at the stake.
All for the sake
Of living in the limelight.
A Strange creatureModern yet primitive,
Social yet alone,
Attractive yet ugly,
I've met a strange creature.
The creature walks on two legs,
And has two long arms.
It's skin can be cream or chocolate,
I wonder why sometimes the creams make fun of the chocolates.
The creatures found in many places.
Some in in large tall rocks,
Some in animal hides on a plain.
But some wonder alone.
None of them are the same.
Some are large, some are small.
Some are even a bit too tall.
They come in many shapes and sizes.
This is the strangest one yet,
I've yet to see one so strange,
I've yet to see another like it.
I've met a strange creature.
That calls itself, "human."
Girl from the skyI remember seeing a girl fall from the sky,
I remember hearing lots of loud, panicked cries.
I remember seeing bright flashing lights,
I remember the colors, they were red and white.
I remember seeing a red puddle by her head,
I remember that image filling me with dread.
I wander if she was thinking,
I wonder why she was crying.
I wonder if she wanted to fly,
I wonder why she fell from the sky.
We'll never know why she fell,
Only she knew that too well.
But I know why she's smiling.
Cause now that girl is finally flying.
ColorsThe red of a rose,
The blue of the sky,
The green of the grass,
The yellow of a daffodil.
The gray of concrete,
The tan of wood,
The black of tires,
The white of paper.
I'm surrounded by colors,
Of different hues and shades,
I know why we have colors,
Cause the world's much prettier that way.
Black AngelShe is everywhere,
From graves to hospitals,
She is everywhere.
She spreads her wings over the sick,
And carries them away,
To a place only known by the dead.
She has no emotion, she shows no pity,
She does her job swift and quick,
She has no feelings, she has no heart.
She's the cause of mourning and grief,
She's the cause of pain and suffering,
She is the cause of disease and famine.
One day we're all gonna see her,
One day we'll all know what she looks like,
Cause one day we're all gonna see that black angel.
If the world were black and whiteIf the world were black and white,
If we were all that way,
Nothing would be original. Nothing would be new.
We wouldn't challenge any of our beliefs.
We constantly challenge the "black" beliefs,
And we must keep doing that!
For black must come to white.
And we must keep pushing.
If the world were black and white, we would all stay the same.
We wouldn't go anywhere.
We would be in a rut.
Black and white are the colors of progress,
For we challenge them,
And push them forward.
FutureI sit here waiting for you to see
That it's with you I'm meant to be
If we can survive, we'll have a family
Husband, son, cat...
Shedding SkinSomeday I'll be cured,
I'll shed my skin
Someday I'll be found,
I'll stop being lost
Someday I'll be free,
Show off my arms
Someday I'll be known,
For my troubling fight
Today I'm in pain,
The wish to harm
Someday I'll be cured,
I'll shed my skin
FailureI've lost my dream
It's shattered, gone
I stand here with shards surrounding me
Dreams of a future
A career and happiness
and I'm left here
So once again,
I turn to the blade
to find it gone.
I thought I'd recovered
I was denied my hope
it laughs in my face
Death, is what I want.
HopeA dark sooty tunnel
No sense of light, or end
Sits a young girl, dying
Of her own self misery
A hand reaches with a smile
And pulls her out
Words act like hugs
Her spirit rises
With his words, she returns
She brings back her old truths
What were once memories
She removes from boxes
She’s a new girl
Confident, smiling, laughing
He stands looking at his work
He’ll catch her if she falls
No one recognises this girl
They only recognise her shell
Her soul has returned
She’ll prove them all wrong.
She barely recognises herself
But she’s not alone
She stands strong with a friend
A friend who pieced her back together
A friend, called hope.
You've been with me.You've carried me in your arms.
You've protected me from harm.
The journey has been long.
Not much further shall it prolong.
I'm in the home stretch.
I'm close to finishing this race.
I've been through the darkness.
Overcame the obstacles I had to face.
You heard me when my voice felt unheard.
You listened to me rejoice and complain, ever single word.
I feel a sense of closure.
I've been trying to keep my composure.
Praise be to you my Lord!
I'll dance in the joy of hope.
Bring on the thunderstorm.
I want to see what else I can cope.
Life has its up and downs.
It gives you smiles and frowns.
I know you will always be near.
In Jesus, whom shall I fear?
Hidden'I wonder what my mom and dad would say
If they knew I cried each day...'
I wonder what they would say
If they saw my arms and legs
laced with scars
And a tale of misery
I wonder how they would feel
If they knew I was lying
That I didn't feel ill
I was forcing, willing
I wonder how it would hurt them
If they knew I was hurting
and switching emotional pain
I wonder what they would think
if they knew I lived a lie
that I wasn't happy
but depressed, dying.
There's a reason they don't know
they'll do as they always do.
It's a personal attack on them they'd say
and that it's for attention.
But what if they're wrong?
What if it's not attention?
But I'm dying.
Piece by piece,
losing my mind
Her GripBreathing is ragged.
Head is spinning.
You run faster and faster,
but you know she's winning.
As she closes the distance
her voice becomes clear,
whispering your secrets,
and your darkest of fears.
Your energy is waning,
and she's only getting faster,
and you know without a question,
this will end in disaster,
Suddenly there's a grip on your arm,
It's stubborn and strong.
It's all over now.
It's all going wrong.
Fear is walking into a hospital
And not knowing when you'll leave
Fear is watching a doctor read your chart
And shake his head in desperation
Fear is writhing around in agony
Wanting an end to come soon
Fear is not knowing what is wrong
And wishing it would stop
Fear is knowing this is partially a dream
And that soon
Those hospital lights
It will be real...
I have nothing to writeI have nothing to write,
nothing to share.
I am lost for inspiration,
and I don't even care.
So what if I don't write?
It's not like it's good.
So what if I don't draw?
It's not like I ever could.
I don't need to create.
It's all pointless in the end.
I thought I loved my pen and brush,
but they're just false friends.
Me I am not strong,
I am not talented.
I am not special,
I am not beautiful.
I am me.
The girl who writes poems.
The girl whose tongue is filled with ink,
Ink which stains the heart and brings forth the flaws,
For the others to fix.
I am the girl who can't draw to save her life,
I am the girl who spins words like thread.
I am me.
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
Keep in Touch!