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crying aloneemotionless she seems
because she cant say how she feels
she doesnt trust anyone anymore
she can barely tell whats real
her hearts been broken too many times
never healed, she just scarred
although the scars faded they always stayed
blurring the way to her heart
so now she sits alone
jaded eyes she sits and cries
wishing she could have comfort
somebody to dry her eyes
whenever she breathes
she regrets it
she wishes she could leave
wonders why she cant just do it
what is holding her here
on this screwed up world
maybe someday she'll find her purpose
her reason for being born
until then she pushes through
seeming emotionless to prying eyes
she cant trust anyone
so she's always alone when she cries
The piano and his mistressI longed for her touch, her limp fingers to wipe the dust from my body.
It had been so long. My insides did a nervous gallop as she lowered
herself down to sit. She was breathtaking. We pined for one another -
she, for the cold beneath her touch, and I, for the corroding feeling of
elation when she softly played. Her tunes were always blurred, in a
soft, magical way.
We needed no music, for we played with our souls. I
loved it most when shed sit; just sit. Id wonder what she was
thinking; her wit far outweighed her spectacular beauty. I had to
restrain myself from getting too close. All I wanted was to look at her
dazzling eyelashes, and that litttle crease just above her eye. Her skin
was so soft, not rough like others Ive experienced.
She left me for a while; left me to wallow in sombre. I thought shed
had done with me - ready to move on. But she came back. Her eyes closed,
her fingers glided; she barely needed to press hard upon my keys. Her fingers
Being Okay Is The Hardest Thing We DoBeing Okay Is The Hardest Thing We Do
because being okay is expected,
if we’re not okay, that’s not okay,
what can we do to be okay?
we can scribble illegible words
on a canvas made for by painters
masquerading as notebook paper,
and hope that we can sell the burn
of stinging emotions for some paper.
but the funny thing about that thought?
is that american money isn’t paper,
it’s 75% cotton and 25% linen fibers.
so even the money you'd earn from your misery,
isn't anything you can write on
when you realize your money isn't
made to heal. even if it does talk.
but it never really ever says enough, does it?
But that's okay...
being okay is the hardest thing we do
because sticks and stones do break bones,
but you can hide the scars
with a jacket or longer sweatshirt.
or put on pants as opposed to athletic shorts.
words kill, words heal, and words are so much more.
and you can't hide the scars that riddle your face,
the way your
School SucksSchool Sucks
And yes that is a fact
Try being me, and you'll see how people react
Yes I am different, and no I am not "cool"
I'm the freak, the outcast at school
So what if my hair is black and always in my face
Who cares if I walk through the halls like its a race
I know I'm quiet, and I don't like to talk
But that gives you no reason to make me the laughing stock
Yes I love skinny jeans, and converse are the best
Aside from that what makes me so different from all the rest
You all judge by appearance, always overlooking what's inside
Making crude jokes just to boost your own pride
Please just stop and look
See that small bit of MY happiness that you took
With every rude word, and glare on your face
Your only trying to cover up your own mistakes that you can not erase
You cannot save me from my lifeI lie face down on the railway tracks.
Screaming out his name.
You say you can save me,
But I am not something you can reclaim.
Discarded needles and empty cans,
Fill my space and steal my time.
They do nothing to take away this pain,
That grates away at my sanity
More and more these days.
Silhouettes of a life long dead,
Dance in the corners of my mind.
Flaunting what could have been,
In front of my cold eyes.
You told me you would be gentle.
You told me you would teach me how to breathe again.
You promised you would save from my pain,
You promised me a life; you told me I could live again.
At first you were a distraction,
An illusion showing I could be repaired.
Though the cracks broke through
And I fell down again.
I lie face down on the railway tracks.
I am waiting on the train.
To come and take me away.
He is calling out my name.
I told you from the start,
My fire was dying out.
I am not something you can reclaim.
You cannot save me
Day 107School stress is not a good mixture with suicidal thoughts.
Today has be amazing but I've now in a load of shit.
I got a C. And a B. and I can't help but feel shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Two people asked about my bruise on my leg.
So two lies I've said.
Maybe I should just give up?
I helped a friend today because she was stressed, and worried.
Locked herself in the toilets.
I had to help.
I couldn't not help.
Because the way I am and how unstable my shit is.
I could very well be in that locked toilet.
Could be tomorrow?Could be a month?
Only I'd either be there with a badge or a blade.
Or my fist or nail.
Or a plastic bag. And hoodie chord.
Nah. Not the plastic bag. Not the hoodie chord.
Because I couldn't' do that in school.
It would spread like wildfire.
But the rest could be true.
Anyway due to helping a friend.
Well I forgot to find out about my exam tomorrow.
Then last lesson waiting for shitty results.
I stayed with my friend for support.
But no I forgot to get my pen drive
you left hershe loved you
you left her
im left to comfort her
but i dont know what to do
so just know
that i blame you
for hurting my friend
after you said you'd
be together until the end
you bounced back so quick
did you ever love her?
shes hurting for you
do you even think of her?
or does that hurt you?
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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