Words are but emotion, finally contained.
~My six word story
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You Can't Tell MeYou can't tell me
that my writing is wrong.
It might be for you
But for me it will live, forever strong
You can't tell me
that my words are not right.
They might not be prefect
But I'll still put up a fight
You can't tell me
my rhymes are too mix-matched.
Its just because they are not yours
To me they do not lack
You can't tell me
I did not try my best.
Who are you to evaluate?
Its not like its a test
You can't tell me
that I didn't follow a rule.
Creativity has no list
I think you are a fool
You can't tell me
that I didn't emote at all.
How can you tell me what I feel?
Its not like I'm a doll
You cant tell me
everything that I should.
How can you think you know everything?
And think you know whats "good"?
Everybody...We all fly off the rails, but live to tell the tale
Everybody misses a nail.
Dreams break like broken glass, but old dreams never last
Everybody takes off their cast.
We all decide too late, but thats just part of fate
Everybodys built on hate.
We all pretend to keep, all our flaws and lies asleep. But
Everybody cries and weeps.
Between the stallsAmung the sinks and filthy tiles
I stay between two dirty walls
I really just need to be here alone
No where but here amung the bathroom stalls.
As I sit upon the toilet lid
I can see the water between my knees
I glare into this toilet bowl
And all I find is a circular sea.
I watch as they drip again and again
The tears come streaming down my cheek
They fall into the bowl directly below
And vanish into the water so bleak.
This is the place I come to hide
This is the place I always go
Where theres a place I can be myself
And not my emotions' puppet show.
I hear the tap of my shoes echo the room
But its shushed asleep by the sound of the flush
This way I can drown my emotions dead
To finally get them to shut up and hush.
I use my sleeves to wipe my eyes
And walk out from between these walls
I walk with nothing but a smile to show
Like nothing happened, even at all
Stupid BlondeWhy, yes.
I do pick up books.
And thank you for thinking I hold them upside down or I can't even finish the first page.
I do math.
And thank you for thinking I can't long divide or that numbers shave my mind blank.
I can write.
And, again, thank you for thinking I can't use a pen or that I <rite tings liek dis>
Why dont you take a label maker and slap it right on my forehead? All to see and all to share?
Maybe a pawn in your conversation, or ideas just easily ignored.
A voice filtered upon arrival and spilled down the drain to wash away, carried to a place where rubbish seals any whisper left to fade.
Voices become whispers, and whispers become the helpless echos of ideas shed free of a mind that is as fully functional as yours,
My friend, it is but you who label me with a permanent marker, that set my skys with the bleakest ink.
Crash And BurnI wonder if other people see how I feel.
With every glare to meet my eyes,
its another preying glare to slap my face
and another glare that heats my cheeks with nervous fire
I wonder if, day after day,
if people see my fear, if they see how I shake.
When they walk by, I stumble away
because I know they don't want me near them.
I wonder if they pity me
If they see the lonely child inside my glass skin.
Sometimes they give me gentle eyes
because they feel sorry for how lonley I really am inside.
I wonder if they know I don't fit in,
if they try to welcome me but I'm too naive to see.
But everytime I just walk away because-
because everytime I try is another crash and burn.
Keep RunningSomething broken, or something dead
and everything that was ever said
Punches, bruises, sticks and stones
and everything that broke my bones
to words they said would never hurt,
to a shoe that kicked my face with dirt
Yes, these tears are made by you
but even tears don't make lies true
Tears that dampened my pillow case
tell a story that you could never chase
and I'll keep running until I die
Because you'll never catch me, I'll watch you try
Isomnia.To the mocking flash of my cell phone clock
The glitter of morning my closed blinds block
In a hunch on a chair or a ball on my bed
Comfortable and comfy but I stay up instead
With paper and pens and paintbrushes I raise
And the stories that unfold on each turning page
Youtube, Facebook, and clicking links
Are the things that keep me from even a blink
Round and round, my thoughts echo and spin
Closing my eyes even seems like a sin
Redbull, pepsi, and midnight snacks
Drinks of sugar in tempting twelve packs
The silence of myself and the embrace of a book
Casting and reeling until sleep's on my hook
They say theres plenty of fish in the sea
But sleep swims deeper than my hook can see
Alone in a dimming desk lamp light
Confronted by morning that stepped through the night
Open curtains, birds with a morning song
It's a shame I had to wait this long.
Just Words"I'm fine" is a dirty lie.
The truth is that I want to die.
"I'm tired" is not even done.
It really means "I'm tired of being no one"
"I'm better" is but a curse.
The truth is that I've never been worse
"I'm just cold" is what I say
so my sleeves can hide my scars away.
"I already ate" is said with a frown.
I starve to see the numbers on the scale go down.
"I'm okay" is probably the worst.
It really means I'm about to burst.
All these things are lies to me.
But you take this as the truth because what else would I be?
Friendship isn't about..Friendship isn't about who came first and who you've known the longest. Its about who came and who stayed. ♥
Why wont you let go?Do you know what it feels like?
To feel nothing yet delve
into the darkness,
plunging into the unknown.
The unknown consumes you,
and you don't know
what to do with yourself.
Because you're just that detached;
isolated from everyone else.
You don't feel angry, oh no.
That isn't what you feel.
You just feel void, empty.
Like there's no emotion in you,
no one can contemplate,
or even understand you.
And you're just plagued
by this idea that
you brought this upon yourself.
All this sadness,
is because of you
and because you
wont let go.
And because you wont let go,
it'll keep coming back and
coming back to haunt you -
you'll never forget...
because it hurt you, that much.
i don't believe in jesusno one celebrates losing virginity like they celebrate losing teeth.
i don't get a dollar under my pillow for having sex with my boyfriend.
there are no doctors smiling at me when i tell them my cherry has been popped.
i am a whore for having premarital sex.
i am a tramp for loving someone enough to open my body to them.
no one celebrates losing virginity like they celebrate losing teeth -
but i slip mine under my pillow anyway, and in the morning when i wake,
there is a quarter and a tiny folded note:
"you are not a slut."
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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