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The story of glassSo I saw her.
I saw her broken
and I saw the hollow glaze in her eyes
like the the world had sucked the life out of her.
they were a work of beauty
and they filled my heart with what they didn't posses.
She lay upon the floor as if in pieces
like broken glass.
I walked towards her and the glass she shed cut my feet
but my curiosity grew bold enough not to care about the red foot prints
that trailed my walk.
I slowly picked up her pieces and my hands were raw with cuts
and painted with the red of shimmering blood
but all I could feel was my heart throbbing
all I wanted was to try to piece this girl back together
and so I tried.
I really did.
But some pieces were too far gone
under my feet and beyond the repair I could give.
So I willingly filled those broken pieces with my own
So I could see the cracks in her soul disappear
and I grew weak
so I could see her grow strong.
And she did.
I put her togethe
To Burn a Prayer...To burn a prayer
into a newborn's gentle skin
is but a scar
that the hands of time will carve
And to stitch the word of The Lord
to a young man's heart
Will shed blood in broken thread.
A golden cross may belong around your neck
But it's my necklace of thorns
Twine too tight not to bleed
To be subservient to an ancient book
Is but the slave of an unproductive world
In the eyes of a child who's mind has wings
Of a different colour.
And perhaps a life that is right for you
Is not one a child would grow into.
I'm used to itI would have followed you off the earth just to see a smile
break the stone of an endless frown
But instead I was thrown off the end of the earth for but the crash was never as soft as a fragile smile
Maybe it hurt
But it doesn't matter
I'm used to it after all
For but if something is put into routine, why change it?
I would have given warmth to the snow as it gingerly pranced down from the heavens to touch your cheek
Just to see you dance in winter's blaze.
But instead you let me stumble into an inferno
that scorched my heart black.
It broke me
But why should it matter when
I'm used to it.
For you never knew the break was in the hands of your fault
So I was left without a bandage
I would have knit a sweater of the finest of wool
to keep the shine in your eyes warm and gold
But your craft would stitch a straight jacket from the rawest of straw
And leave me confused
Boys can hurt too...And he sat
In a place no one could find him.
Where the grasp of his peers could not pull him under
And the hot breath of his family couldn't raise the hairs on his neck.
He ripped at his hair with his fingers
As if to pull out the fear
The feeling he got that impaled his heart.
He wondered how his heart could have been poisoned so
When it was sealed behind the cage of his ribs
And locked with a key of reason.
Perhaps, instead of protecting his heart
He imprisoned it.
He let that cage rust alone
So no one could get in
He let the rust encase his hopeful soul
And he let the very will to not get hurt
Guard the prison he obliviously made
And his heart slowly died of neglect
It cracked, and became a broken masterpiece.
The permanent scars that slowly appeared
Was as if an open door to the things he feared
And they crawled inside and replaced everything he once loved
His heart was
Love is LuckDoesn’t it eat at your heart
that your perfect soul mate might not even be born yet
They might not be your age
They might not live on the same side of the earth as you
They could be half a world away
Or they could have just died
And you wouldn’t even know
That one person could have been that man who just walked by you yesterday
Or that girl you saw on the train last week
That’s the scary part
They could be so close
But yet they will always be so far
the person who you belong with could be a century away
Or a century gone by
The person you could laugh with the most
Admire the most
Love the most
Is someone you may never meet
Someone who you will never lay eyes upon
Never feel their touch
And you would never know
Who they are
And the way they could feel for you
And the warmth they could give you
And that’s what makes
Dear meDear eyes
I'm sorry for all the tears that I made you shed.
I wish I could have kept you dry instead.
Those nights I didn't let you rest
I'm sorry for being such a pest
I'm sorry for fumbling to the ground
I wish I had done something more profound
I just couldn't wait to fall
For those people who said they would be there if I call
Sorry for all those nights of crying myself under
I wish I could have made a silent surrender
For those sweet words you heard and believed
I'm sorry, but they were from people who stole and thieved
I'm sorry I didn't listen to you from the start
Now my life is falling apart
I should have believed that you were right
I wish I had given you more of a fight
Sorry for letting those dancers dance and dice
What they did wasn't too nice
Stripes suit you fairly well
Too bad I had to put you through hell
Sorry for messing you up so bad
I hope that didn't m
That one girlShe's that one girl you see with the pencil woven
between her skinny fingers
She's the one who sits in the corner
instead of the middle of the room
The one who's always last to speak
The one who's words are kept secret to everyone
Always the one who bites
her own tongue
She's the girl who's beautiful
but doesn't think the same way
She's the one who can't be convinced
of the talents she holds
The flare that ignites the lives of the people around her
but she can't feel the heat for herself
She is weighed down by the insecurities she slings
over her shoulders
She's unconvinced of her own style
her own special self
She's the girl who paints
She's the girl who draws
She's the girl who writes
But second guesses every stroke of her brush
to every letter she prints
Shes that one girl whose eyes display a world
all her own
But she sees a somber world
staring back at her
Let your heart holdYou'll find be at the bottom
Watch at how my bones shake
Caged by the blazing bars of shame
Watch at how my heart awakes
Not to shatter under pressure
When your safety's on the line
And when your thoughts begin to fly
The way you act is how you're defined
I'm not the one to fight
When I'm at the head of the crusade
holding the beast that lay inside
with the worries that come cascade
I started to surender
when the light began to run
I was controlled by massacre
I had to chase the fading sun
When I'm on a faulter
Or on the end of dejection's blade
Walking a tightrope with one last thread
I still wont let my heart fade
I'm sent down onto my knees
Last words the last thing to shed
But yet when death is a charade
Backing down is the last thought in my head
Show me to the shipwreck
Watch at how my lungs collapse
Without a remedy or herb
Stay and watch my self-worth relapse
Ill never s
Silly little humanI see you day and I see you night
You are always up before it is light
Never seem to rest your head on your pillow
You seem like a rather peculiar fellow
I love you anyway because you are mine and I am yours
I follow you happily about the floors
Listening always and never too loud
I'm here for you when you are down
I rest my nose upon your cheek
And they are cold with the water your eyes seem to leak
It's silly how you do this
But I love you and can't wait to give you a kiss
The red lines on your arms are bumpy and diced
The thing that dances on them isn't too nice
You haven't eaten with me for a long time now
Its hard to imagine not eating, under vow
I see you lay in bed all day
Any hear you always say:
"I can't take it anymore. I wish I were dead"
I wish I had a clue of what you said
You're really weird, but it's okay tho
I love you and don't worry, I'm here for you
Silly little human! Get down from there!
Why did you suddenly kick away
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.
I Saw a Burning ManIn front of my house, he sat.
Skin burnt off, now charred and black.
Hesitantly, I walked outside.
And he followed me with his watery eyes.
With steps as nimble as the snow,
I hid my fear and continued to go.
Now before him, the Burning Man.
I kindly offered him my shaky hand.
No malice nor vice leaked off of him,
rather sadness and agony which simmered below his skin.
I could feel it around me, the pain and despair,
yet, physically the man was nearly repaired.
For his scorched skin was not his problem,
instead the bottled emotions that devoured all of him.
“Would you like to come inside sir, and stay?”
In which he replied by looking away.
Again I asked, and received no reply,
and was startled when the man began to cry.
Unsure of what to do, I walked away,
Yet I’ll never forget what happened that day.
Be it from pain, or mute, or undisclosed desires,
I watched as the man was engulfed in fire.
I stood back in awe, with my mouth agape,
and feared that he had fallen into
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.
little victories.when i was younger,
i thought i was the strongest
little girl in the world
because i could easily
beat my older brother
at arm wrestling.
it wasn't until years later
that i realized
And There Was Lighti.
He was seventeen when he died.
I never went to the funeral
but I walked past it the day of
the service. His mother
was in the backseat of a blue Dodge,
door open, head in her hands.
"My baby," she kept repeating.
"My baby." It would go from sobbing, to
screaming, to a soft whisper that
I could only hear being carried
on the wind.
It was a Wednesday afternoon that they found
his old red pickup truck parked
out front of Slim's, two beer bottles in
the back and the windows cracked to let the stale
I heard that his dad told the police he was
gonna take that old truck and fix it up, because
he had promised his son before—
because it's always in the before—
And in the after, his mother never had dry eyes
and I'm pretty sure my mom told me
that she saw his dad at the bar every night,
drinking his sorrows down because some people can't
handle the stress.
Some people can't figure out why their son would
"Some men just want to w
in which I gain sentiencesave room
for doubt, in the silence between
religious guilt and stolen
body heat. I am made of helium.
in my dreams they
pop me and
watch me flutter. I wonder if everyone
else’s head is so congested as mine,
hyperactive with inattentive people.
you are never serious--
he stares at me in a different
set of eyes; there are words
I cannot say, there are
things I cannot tell you.
(twice a week
I watch the people I love
leave me for good.
spiders in my throat,
You Ever Felt ItHave you ever felt it?
When you lay there broken
And feel yourself so guilty
Eyes gushing red
And you want to sleep in a coma
Your brain swelling with thoughts
At the same time empty with nothing
When you can't suit yourself
And see yourself a place among the demons
that moment when you control your life
The moment when you choose between life and death
And then you yourself can decide either way
It's when you're on the edge
And want someone to pull you back before you make another step
A hook, to rip all the insanity out of your body
And suck all the madness that is growing black dead trees
Have you ever felt it, have you known depression
Did you ever seek a source of help, and did you ever find it
The Irony Of PerfectionOne who does not possess the gem of perfection sees himself but of a shadow of someone that is more, but yet renders clueless the plague he ceases to see upon him, for his imperfections sculpt him into a masterpiece all his own. The irony of perfection is only seen by the one who created himself perfect, his excellence in every lift of his finger and blink of his eye to bore him as he gains no further in what he used to value, in what his passion used to be but his love to vanish surprisingly as he preformed flawlessly to no where. Perfection creates nothing but bordom to build slowly as a sour scab on his soul, realizing he can go nowhere else but infront of a halting stop sign. He sighs as he watches his shadow build himself into more and more each day, longing to become what he was as if the shadow himself while the shadow builds only to become the possessor, unaware that he will soon wish to be his own shadow someday.
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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