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"Absolutely Nothing"She said she wanted to be a writer
Because that’s what made her happy
But the other kids ridiculed her
For having such strange ideas
So she decided to lock her ideas away for a while
Lock away the princes and princesses
The fairies and far away kingdoms
So she could grow up a little
And then maybe they’d accept her
Because that’s all she really wanted.
She said she wanted to be a writer
Because it helped take away the pain
Growing up wasn’t what she expected
And it ripped down her defenses
Before she even had a chance to fight back
And so she left her old ideas where they were
And wrote about death instead
About abuse and rape and torture
To make her pain feel insignificant
Because that’s all she really wanted.
She said she wanted to be a writer
Because it would be the last thing she’d ever do
Though the sleeping pills made it hard to concentrate
And the tears blurred her vision
And smudged the ink of her pen
She needed to say goodbye before sh
Sticks and Stones May Break My BonesIf there was one thing she hated most, it was her inability to write what she really wanted. It didn’t matter what brilliant idea filtered through her mind, and it certainly didn’t matter if she had the time or energy. The simple fact was that there was something standing in between her and the one thing she loved most.
It was the fear of failing.
She knew it was the one thing that could make or break her. Everything she lived for was just a small collection of ideas and words and ink blots and moments of pure bliss and moments of heart shattering sorrow and above all it was everything she could never be. She could never be the hero of her story. She could never save a kingdom from a warring enemy. She could never be the bad girl who couldn’t care less about other’s opinions and slept around with who she damn well pleased. She could never be the intelligent beauty that got the person she loved in the end. She could never truly be happy w
Hunger Games Preview: VolumniaMy name is Volumnia Nightrail. I am the female District 1 Tribute in the 45th Hunger Games. I am fifteen years old, and I came here to die.
Volumnia Nightrail was raised as one of the best in District 1. With a powerful father and a mother with a direct link to the Capitol, everyone had assumed she would take her place as the District Tribute when she turned eighteen. They expected her to win. But when things take a dangerous turn at District 1’s reaping, Volumnia finds herself thrown into the Games at only fifteen.
“Volumnia Nightrail!” The Capitol representative called, sending the female side into a frenzy.
“I volunteer!” The older girls screamed around me, but I could hardly hear them over the pounding of my own heart. I had a decision: do as I was instructed, and let the spot go to someone who wasn’t me. Someone who was more capable. OR I could hold my head high, and step up there. I could go against everything I ha
Letter From an OC: Annoying Yet LovableDear Creator,
Hey kid, it’s me, Robert. Ya know, your Conscious? I’m sure you couldn’t forget me, considering that I’m like Jiminy freakin’ Cricket except for the fact that I’m human and extremely good looking. Heh, I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear from right now, but I think it’s about time you actually listened to me for once. You’re supposed to follow my advice, you know. I’m your Conscious, it’s what I do.
Anyway, enough with my fantastic sense of humor, let’s move on to why I’m really writing you this letter. I know you’ve been having a bit of a rough time lately, and you know what? It happens to everyone. Everyone has those dark days where they have a hard time figuring out what they truly want out of life and even out of themselves. And trust me, kiddo, I know how hard it is for you sometimes. I know it’s hard to have faith in yourself when everythi
Society Says So I don’t fit the stereotypes. I don’t think I ever have.
And maybe that’s why they don’t believe me. Maybe that’s why they don’t believe I’m that girl. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a different hair color each week. Maybe it’s because I don’t listen to screamo music and wear gobs of make up on my face. Maybe it’s because I actually care about my grades, and manage to maintain a 4.5 GPA.
Maybe it’s because I don’t have scars on my wrists or cuts on my legs to so "proudly" display like half of these girls do. Just because I don’t harm myself physically doesn’t mean I don’t mentally. Just because I haven't mutilated my skin doesn’t mean I’m not in pain. I have different methods to hurt myself. I don't do drugs, I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't do anything of the sort. I have a different way of dealing with the pain. So here’s the truth.
As The Poison Sets In“Pick your poison”
They sing to me with their
Siren voices and their
“Pick your poison”
Growing impatient with my
Lack of words
“Pick my poison”
I echo, my voice
weak and hollow
“How can I pick if I
Don’t know my
“War” they murmur
“War?” I laugh,
“War is the poison
That will stop my heart
In its tracks
But leave the organ pounding
War is the poison
That will feed on my inner most desires
On my greed and my
Thirst for power
And forbid me from the
Peaceful embrace of sleep
As nightmares of splattered blood
And fallen soldiers will
Shatter my sanity and force me into
A broken hysteria as
I watch my mind collapse into nothing.
Tell me my other choices, because
So far, you have yet to
Contain my interest.”
“Death” they mutter
“Death?” I stifle another laugh
“Death is the poison
That will steal away those that I
Child-Like GamesMy demons are
Playing games with me
And not the
Kid games that I
Can remember loving
But the dark ones that
Only they find fun
And the ones that are
Ripping me to pieces
Destroying any chance I
Have at being happy
Or anything but
Teetering on the edge of
And god I can't wait for the day
Until they finally
Push me over.
Because I'd rather
Suffer through that then
Just be a pawn in their
There's Strength In MadnessIf it’s victory you’re bargaining for it’s
Misery that you’re
Going to get
Because you see, my darling
I’ve never been one to
go down so easily.
And if it's sanity you think you're
so valiantly fighting for
you're in for quite a surprise
when you realize that
this fool-hearted dream of yours
will be destroyed by your own Reality.
And i think it's so cute that you believe
that you have me all figured out
but really, truly
you've been mistaken, as
Sanity means nothing to me
when Madness is where i truly belong.
If Madness is where you belong, then truly
you must be a
lost cause already,
but don't you worry about a thing, my dear
as Reality promises that she'll
fix every shattered crack in your broken demeanor.
Ha! I don't need your pathetic promises or useless lies,
because I have a heart that's
so much stronger than it's
ever been before, and trust me
There Are Monsters Inside of MeMy name is Brianna
There's a monster inside of me.
He like to tell me I'm fat
That I'm ugly, unworthy
of living the life that I have
I'm not beautiful enough
not pretty enough
not talented enough
not smart enough
to be loved.
He likes to watch me suffer;
watch me drown in my misery
suffocate in my anxiety
more than anything
he likes to make me hate myself.
He likes to tell me that
people are watching me
and judging me
"You're annoying, stop talking."
"Don't speak up, you'll regret it."
"You're an idiot."
"a stupid dreamer."
He reminds me that I want to be
everything that i could never
"I'll never make it in this life" I agree,
and he smiles at me, it's sick
"You finally believe the truth."
My name is Brianna
There's a monster inside of me.
She likes to tell me to stop trying
to give up on life
to give up on my friends
"Who wants a fuck up
She agrees with Him a lot
and tells me to stop eating
because I'd be beautiful if i were just
pale skin st
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.
Fake smileWith needles and threads I sew to make this smile remain
a fake smile indeed but thats what it takes
to be treated normal once again
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