|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
the processThe process starts!
They come. They rise. They clobber.
Thoughts..these are twisted vines spreading everywhere possible over me.
The process ends!
I am buried deep inside the darkness of these vines losing my being.
one thingOne thing that has always inspired me with its beauty..
one thing which brings a smile to my face whenever i think of it..
one thing which has transition written all over it..
one thing which is my favorite colors - orange and yellow ..
one thing which is warm as a loving hug and cold as a conflict..
banging on the doorToday i feel like i have had a free fall.and i don't like this sinking feeling i get falling down because i don't know where i am going to land.it might be dark in the woods with slimey creatures around.it might me in the water which i am afraid would just engulf me and remove my existence.whom to trust now?
i don't know whom to tell what i feel? i know this sensation.it is in my heart.and it is definitely not love.and i know its not hate.its FEAR.its the fear of the unknown.the wrong steps that i might take.the unknown people i might walk with.fear of the darkness that i might enter.where to find the light?
i see myself standing outside in the rain.yes i can see my home.i am banging at the door.i am banging on the walls.but i am unable to get through.its like nobody sees me standing outside getting drenched in this cold cruel rain.its like the stares that i get are the questions at me that where is my home and who am i ? its like mouths whispering shameless things and giving impish sm
entwinedWhat is the difference between me and you
or you and me??
is there any by the way?
i feel it is only in our bodies.we are different bodies but our source is the same.
the same spirit.
have you ever wondered about this possibility or do you only care about the things that you percieve?
you see the world around you the way you have been taught.
you have never tried to unlearn anything to have a chance to see the truth that surrounds you.
believe me what you see is not even close to reality.
so it does not matter that our bodies are not in touch. dont care just because our voices cannot be heard by eachother.
we cannot see each other.
but our souls are entwined.and just for once if you could forget the bodies,these physical appearances.
if you could see through your body and touch your spirit,you would realise that you are touching me!!
completeMusic makes me happy.
It makes me sing and my feet swing.
Food keeps my tummy full.
I don't live to eat but still.
Love provides me with warmth.
Here,where resides my heart.
Misery makes me miserable.
Tears!! That is all i can tell.
Sun gives me energy.
It brings nostalgia to me.
But,what makes me complete
is bits and pieces of everything.
Without them I wouldnt be living!!
Only LoveLost in her sorrows,
tortured by the years of pain,
cursing existence and praying for release,
all her efforts were in vain.
Drenched in her blood
her body refused to leave,
tried all she could to escape,
but her fate she couldnt decieve.
Such an emptiness inside,
it echoed her strife,
alone she was left struggling,
noone to comfort her life.
Then the moment came,
it altered her everything,
An angel was to be seen,
divine light shining through His wings.
He took her in His arms,
picked out all the thorns.
She knew it was a blessing for a lifetime of love,
no more misery....only LOVE
A message to the brokenYou drown yourself
in liquid sorrows,
letting the salty mess
burn your wounds,
and the sadness
to drip in your mouth,
consuming your words
and you say
you deserve the pain,
but I want to dry your face,
and whisper in your ear
how the clouds cry too,
while they hold such beauty,
and so do you.
It's Okay to be ImperfectThe moon
Stand Against SuicideI know the pain is perhaps unbearable,
But darling, please put down the blade.
Release your emotions through tears and smiles,
Rather than dreading these days.
Do it for the little girl, whose mother can’t be there,
Or for the boy whose father drank too much.
For the boy who can’t sit in elementary school,
Because the bruises from Daddy hurt to touch.
For the teenage girl lying face down in her bed,
Thinking, why can’t it all be done?
For the elderly man looking up at the stars,
Counting the days one by one.
Do it for the children who wonder, does it end?
For the ones who feel left on their own.
For the ones who think, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard
If I didn’t feel so left alone.
And finally, do it for one other person,
The person in front of these words.
Because you’ll never know how it gets better
When focusing on pain and hurt.
Live one more day, dear, for them and for you,
And I swear to you, problems will fade.
I know, for right now, it’s p
Clear WristA clear wrist, barren of scars,
as opposed to skin sauntered in marks,
tells a trickier story than it's soiled and raw,
uncaring, unkempt counter part.
Bravery, I think it holds,
the strength to bare unimaginable loads
of pain and suffering through endless times,
and withstanding the agony of sleepless nights.
Some think it is fear, the reluctance to cut,
but I believe it opposite, it show courage and guts.
To bear your pain without a nick on your wrist,
is like a solider braving his terrain while being torn limb from limb.
Agonizing as it is, to hide your pain,
you do it so well, and no attention you'll gain.
At the end of the day, it's not cry for attention,
rather a cry for the victory that's silently mentioned.
Your scars are those not self inflicted,
and despite the gnawing intention,
to harm yourself and ease your pain,
the scars you earn are rightfully gained.
In a room of those who have jumped the gun,
and left traces of blood deep in their arms,
do not be tempted to do the sam
dark circlesi haven't slept well in 14 days
my eyes droop pretty colors
'50 shades of purple and grey,
they're bags and they're designer'
making jokes is how i cope
with chapped lips and constant chap-stick
it tastes like honey and mint
i laugh and say i'm addicted.
hooded lids and sleepy smiles
during lunch at subway
my friends ask if I'm okay
I say that I'm just tired.
but really when I see him with her
my heart sinks to the tiles
she's pretty and witty and sure as hell she can sing
and i'm just a loud bone-collector.
when I see her with him,
dancing and laughing and grinning,
the ring on her finger
laughs at my singularity.
for as much as i lie and as much as i try
my loneliness still creeps in,
because no matter how much they protest,
i'm still the lowly fifth-wheel.
walking behind them on sidewalks
that are wide, but built for four
smiles and laughs when they look back
but the frown creeps evermore.
pelvis peaks through paper-thin skin
and knuckles white and pale
my ribs are empty, my bo
I Thought I Needed FeminismI thought I needed feminism, when I was a little girl.
And I am very sad to admit, that this wasn't very long ago.
I thought when he held the door open for me, that he was making a big mistake.
That he was being a pompous ass, and he took my strength for a fake.
And when he offered to pay my tab, I still called him an ass.
Because I thought he assumed I was poor, and below middle class.
Or when his hard work earned him a promotion,
yet I did nothing, and the boss' ignorance to promote me, I believed was a sexist notion.
My friend really wanted feminism when she found her ex-dead drunk,
removed his clothes, and without his consent, had a pleasurable fuck.
When her parents bust into the room unexpected that night,
she said he raped her, and he was arrested without so much as a fight.
Perhaps feminism was there when I walked out into the street in pure nudity,
and shouted the my neighbors “You have no right to judge me!”
I didn't care about the children who were standing in th
Keep in Touch!