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There Is No Light: Only Darkness RemainsLet the darkness consume me,
Take away my pain,
Drain me of my sorrows,
Make me feel less shame.
Slithers of silver will surely rip my pain away,
Draining me of my sorrows,
Making me feel less ashamed.
I'll tempt the darkness to arise,
All from behind:
Blue, innocent eyes.
At A GlanceOn the outside, no one sees,
All of my inner demons,
Battling inside of me.
On the outside, no one sees,
All the games
And all the lies,
Everything I try so hard to hide.
On the inside, I see
Myself, losing control of me.
Gradually losing every piece.
While nothing I say matters in the least.
Soon, everyone will see,
These inner demons,
Finally being set free.
The FallThe hurt in my eyes is all that has to be said,
Sometimes I know, I'm better off dead.
Pain is the only thing I can feel,
Knowing it's the only thing that is real.
Behind all the games and lies,
An emptiness haunts my weary eyes.
A person who I used to be,
Worse, even though it wasn't truly me.
Sorrow consuming my every thought.
Slowly, losing everything I've got.
Darkness closes in, all around,
Still, I don't make a single sound.
Bloodshot TearsHearts bound by chains of fear,
lost in the darkness by so many tears.
Trapped in an illusion of light,
To be discovered in an endless night.
Tears fall in a rain of sorrow,
Broken souls that see no tomorrow.
Relief in the form of a crimson river.
A vicious circle, with no end.
Shards Of SomeoneA broken mirror.
A bleeding fist.
A sliver blade against her wrist.
Tears falling down to lips un-kissed.
Ignore her and she won't exist.
She's not the kind you'll come to miss.
The lines she wears spirally her wrist,
Are there to prove she exists.
With pain and suffering,
Relief and regret,
It's a wonder she hasn't killed herself yet.
I Flew AwayI'll take my last breath,
And leave you here.
All my shame will slowly disappear.
I'll leave you with my body:
Cold, lifeless and drained.
I've given up on everything,
It all hurts the same.
I'm sorry for leaving you.
Especially like this.
My life was an endless spiral of pain,
Every turn, and every twist.
I'm so sorry I had to go,
Even though happiness was sometimes real,
I realized my wounds were never going to heal.
Don't feel bad:
It wasn't your fault.
I loved you, with all of my heart,
I was too screwed up
Too weird to live.
So I ended it all.
I took my last breath.
Delicate LifeShe hurts, and she cries,
You can't see the anxiety
Hidden behind her dark eyes.
She just smiles,
To cover up her lies:
She wears a mask,
A hidden disguise,
All she can do is sit and cry,
Rocking back and forth,
Remembering lie, after lie.
As she holds the silver to her wrist,
Soon, will she still exist?
Nightmares Revealed.Please, take me away,
To a place where pain does not exist,
To a place where nightmares are not real:
To a place where I cannot feel.
This place can be anywhere.
Anywhere you want to take me,
I'm trusting you to keep me safe.
I'm trusting you not to break me.
After everything that's happened,
I believe this place does not exist,
For pain, is everywhere.
That's the hidden plot twist.
Nightmares are real.
The real nightmare isn't hidden within the dark,
It's hidden within you.
The thing you're all afraid of,
Lurks within your head:
Preparing for its moment
To drown your body in dread.
To finally take over the person that is you.
And no one can stop it,
Or tell it what to do.
Corrupt CornerThere's a cold, dark corner
In the back of my room.
It speaks to me
And says "I'm coming for you".
Maybe one day,
My dreams will come true:
I won't have to be here,
So down and blue.
The corner keeps talking
About how I'm going to die.
All I can do,
Is lay here, and cry.
As the corner gets closer,
It takes me in.
My soul, begins to burn,
Along with my skin.
lost my voice.I wrote "I love you"
in the sand at the beach.
The tide swallowed the words
and drowned them
before I could speak.
On WritingWrite for today
And like it’s all
That’ll be left of you
Never write for popularity.
Write with clarity, but
‘Don’t make everything said’.
Write a million things;
An ode to the voice
Inside your head,
An elegy for the living,
A carpe diem for the dead.
Write to tell
To just keep
They’ll find a way out.
Don’t write for approval,
That way misery lies.
Poetry can’t be judged,
Not properly –
Write for yourself;
Doesn’t matter if it’s
Good enough for
You’ll never be Shakespeare.
But he’d never
Have been you;
Pour your heart into it,
That’s the best
That you can do.
HauntedI see her there with
Coal dust carved
Into the icy skin
Under her eyes,
And on her lips
Dance a chorus
Of bitter lies.
A skeletal hand of smoke
Claws at my neck
Until I bleed;
She tells me that the pain
Is just what I need.
And her blood
Zooms in her veins
Like speeding cars.
She looks at me
At what I am.
She’s a snake,
In the guise
Of a lamb.
‘What happened to us?’
Of what I used to be.
‘I may be you,
But you are not me.’
The sun comes up:
Yesterday is gone
But see it this way;
The past is part of the future
But the future isn’t the past.
You choose which bits go,
You choose which bits last.
How to love a poet: Expect them to be flawed,
a field of wild flowered-
& an inability
Love them anyway.
Know that when they look at you
they are noticing the little things.
Loving A Guy Who Cannot Love Himself.Firstly, tell him that he doesn't necessarily need to be the “strongest” man in the world,
that if he cries, you won't look down on him for it,
that you won't call him weak.
Tell him that he doesn't have to like sports, or fishing, or football, or any of the “mainstream” things that boys are “supposed” to like.
Let him know that liking art, or dancing, or singing or acting doesn't make him gay, doesn’t make him any less of a man, it just makes him who he is.
A human being.
And for goodness sakes, tell him that blue does not have to be his favorite color, than he can indulge in pink, or purple or even magenta!
And to the girl who take on the task, remember please, that it is not always the Knight who saves the Princess.
No, this time, the Princess may need to save the Knight.
Do not pour your problems onto him, rather, balance each other out.
Be a shoulder to cry on. A friend to be there. A love that never leaves.
Perhaps more than often,
I Fell In love Inside of a DreamI fell in love,
inside of a dream.
And woke up,
with a broken heart.
But it wasn't my heart,
that was broken.
It was his,
and I'll never see him again.
That long haired, pale skin,
blue eyed boy, will forever remain,
a figment of my imagination.
So close, yet so far away.
And I will never be able to apologize,
for my mistake.
unrealistic ideologies of an
are toxic; breathing
is a chore. there is a
in the combined effort
of necessity’s unlovliest
we are the forgotten.
we are the tangled limbs
and childhood stories for
a more sensitive future; we
are the longing, we are
we are measured
in the people we touch;
and I will love you
in the UV light of
hide and seek paranoia.
I love you in the red shimmer
of harbored dreams, I love you
in the in
ShatteredIf I found you, on your knees,
trying desperately to collect the shattered pieces of your heart-
I would kneel beside you and help you pick them up.
I would not cast a blind eye,
and pretend I had not seen you.
If I saw that your hands had been cut,
by the very shards of hope you were trying so hard to gather-
I would take your hands in mine, and hold them until the pain subsided.
Then I would kiss every wound- no matter how big or how small,
until I was sure you would be able to use your hands again.
If you were crying from the fear that you'd never be able to pick up everything,
I would hold you until your tears stopped, and I would comfort you with gentle words.
But I would not lie to you- I would never lie.
The heart is a frail thing- once shattered, it can never be fully repaired.
Parts will remain missing, and the mended hope will always bear cracks.
If we found that we'd gathered all that we were able,
and that there were a fine powder remaining of what we could not collect.
On Breaking Apart Your Dreams For a GuyTwelve months ago, we swapped rumors about
the hottest bad boys; counted the number of freckles Tanya,
the Queen Bee of Beverly High, didn't cover with her polka-dot skirt;
and discovered our favorite song on a blog we both wished
we owned. "What do you think we'll be doing this time next year?"
I asked over peanut butter cookies from a bag
and a commercial break between late night movies.
You giggled, pondering, and said, "Hanging out in our dorm room.
You'll be snuggled up to the flavor of the month--
a basketball player, no doubt, or a starving artist--
and I'll be green with jealousy, like always."
When Dirty Dancing came back on, we rocked along,
shag carpet burning streaks across bare feet.
This morning, listening to my roommate sing with the radio--
some country ballad you'd never approve of--
I remember your laugh and the dark, curling fingers of hair
at the nape of yo
ConsumedI mark my arm
And leave the blood to pour.
My mind is slowly sickened
By the vivid gore.
On the outside no one sees,
This demon, this thing,
Slowly taking over me.
I am the only one
Who knows it's there.
Lurking beneath the surface.
Getting harder to bare.
One day, everyone will see
This seemingly hidden demon
Dwelling within me.
There this thing will be,
Possessing the shell of me,
Standing before them
Using my eyes to see.
Everyone will stare.
Many will glare.
But little will they know,
Is now me.
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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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