ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Can I paint you a picture
With rivers flowing red?
Do you hear the funeral march
That plays on inside my head?
Have you seen my butterfly?
My body is a canvas
Painted by a knife
A representation of society
And it's influence on my life
Do they love me now?
They stole my butterfly
So they could see the scars
And as tears mix with blood
I stare at the stars
I wonder...am I pretty now?
With rivers flowing red?
Do you hear the funeral march
That plays on inside my head?
Have you seen my butterfly?
My body is a canvas
Painted by a knife
A representation of society
And it's influence on my life
Do they love me now?
They stole my butterfly
So they could see the scars
And as tears mix with blood
I stare at the stars
I wonder...am I pretty now?
Literature
Untitled
aggressive, you tell your therapist,
he's always been aggressive.
you detail the storms you weathered,
the verbal battering ram,
the hammer that kept falling until
the nail fell into place.
"he never hit me", you're quick to assure,
but you do speak, eventually,
about the threats, about the way he towered
over you, above you, through you,
the ways he threatened to hurt you &
the time you watched her fly into a wall.
but, but, but, but, but
you don't want to be unfair to him.
his demons are sharper-clawed,
bigger, scarier, more sadistic.
yours are a children'
Literature
Untitled
It doesn't matter who has made you
It doesn't matter where you are
You could be born in China
Or nay other place, near or far.
It only matters what you do
And how you play the game
Of life itself, no easy task
To get to wealth and fame
Or perhaps you want a simpler life
Which is quite alright
But for both you must always work
Be it rain, snow, day or night.
We are only what we make ourselves
So let's get this straight right now
Don't listen to what others say
At the end be sure you can say...
Wow...
Care not for servants. traitors, sycophants and liars
Nor for life's many pits, trips, potholes and briars.
Focus on your chosen path and stick t
Literature
Untitled
I guess we're all alone in our minds
Alone in our hearts, in our
Hidden sufferings and cesspool of
Pain and confusion and longing
I wish I know what I'm doing this for
What im inflicting these on us for
it hurts to know that you won't know me
and i won't be there for you anymore
I'm sorry
and I don't think my sorry is enough
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
© 2015 - 2024 ennailaughter
Comments6
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Yes your pretty :3