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HappinessShe leaves me frequently, without warning-
this capricious lover of mine.
Without provocation, she deserts me;
without rhyme or reason she leaves me to
complete her madness in the dark.
I forget often that she is Master
and I mustn't question her actions
even though they leave me at a loss.
As I standby, and learn to dissect myself
like an insect speared on a peg,
or a corpse rotting in some grimy catacomb,
I must recite the mantra:
she is god. She is god.
Fragments of days pass by me
and I, in a haze of half-forgotten memory, cannot piece together
any singular moment in time
that could connect to anything else.
There is only her,
and her spindly hands upon my throat
before she finishes her rounds
and smugly skips away.
I try fruitlessly to pick up the
shattered remains of what was once a human life.
Her face is tattooed on my soul.
Her voice echoes in the lonely halls of my memory.
Her touch is a scar upon my existence.
I cannot salvage a thing.
And then, just like the tide,
TrustLook how the Earth
aimlessly follows the sun;
Running in circles
to end the same place
365 days later
for the sun is older,
the sun is bigger,
the sun is hotter
And maybe this is why
we blindly follow
these kinds of people too;
We look up at the sky
and trust the sun too
See that girl?You see that girl?
The one with the face that has housed tears
Whose skin remembers scars
But still whose eyes see a better world
She's got a mess of hair thats job is really only to get in the way
Her head underneath it- is filled with poetry and pretty things
While her world is filled with destitution.
Maybe she's the one that goes by many names.
Maybe she responds to none.
She's the kind of girl who never stays down
Unless she's the one who put herself there.
She might be a friend of yours,
Or just a passerby.
She might dress outlandishly
Maybe shes just trying to hide
This girl's been kicked and bruised and torn
But she's got duct tape on her skin
Superglue on her heart
and staples in her head
and she keeps on.
See that girl?
She's a star.
There aren't many of them left.
Reality's ScarsReality's Scars
Knives of words,
Cut through the rose-tinted glass,
Leaving it to shatter,
It doesn't matter,
Because I never said I loved you.
Memories choke me,
This is all so hard to swallow,
I called you names,
You played mind-games,
But I never said I loved you.
I fill it with music again,
A scar on my left side,
A bullet hits my pride,
Still, I never said I loved you.
So cruelly inflicted leave me,
True colours seep and show,
My common sense follows,
I never said I loved you.
But once, I would have thought it.
the failed escape artistshe is a snowflake-skinned sigh
floating on the winds of Eurus,
playing tic-tac-toe on her skin.
she always comes out the loser
standing on the road between
two worlds, she wonders when
she started to read the map wrong,
because this isn’t the
second star from the right.
she can burn the pictures,
but she can’t burn her memories.
and damn it,
her wanderlust is trying to
pull her up, up, and away
but the desolation is keeping
its slimy tentacle wrapped
around her ankle and
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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