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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
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
smotherher spine was dusk
and unmade nests,
but he tried to live there
he was neither nocturnal
nor a dawn-believer,
so he suffocated
in the birdhouse of her ribs.
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More