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Out of reachSometimes, I want you to understand. No matter what you do, you can't change me. I'm not perfect in your eyes, or anyone else's. Not even my own.
I don't need to be reminded on how much I hate myself. I already know. I've done things I thought I would never do. From a young age, I have been evil incarnate. To you I am a shadow.
I have done bad things. But what you don't realise is that I never meant to hurt anyone. I was trying to help. I should probably be in jail for the things I remember that I've done. Maybe an asylum.
But no one died, that I can remember.
The only person who died was me. And I died striving for what wasn't there.
From what I remember, I was trying to be perfect. Trying to do the impossible. I only enjoyed three things and they were the things keeping me going. Free running, drawing, and writing.
Free running was the thing that killed the old me. I refuse to do what I did before. I will still write and draw and run. But I'm not going through Hell again.
You don't u
Carnevil CircusChapter 1: Promise of A lifetime
Shriek ducked under a branch, staying silent as he ran as fast as he could. Away from that place, that STUPID, EVIL, place. He began breathing heavily, they barley let them exercise so they couldn't run. He was only a mile away, at least the experiments gave him extended strength speed and accuracy.
He slid under a fallen tree, and down a steep hill, landing in a muddy river that covered his dark green top in mud and got his baggy black jeans soaked. His combat boots remained dry inside. He grabbed the lavender perfume and sprayed the trees before discarding the can on the river, after creating a leak.
Shriek was fourteen. He had green hair and dark blue eyes with grey tinged pale skin that made him look sick. His hair was cut short, and was messy, covering his left eye. It was darker behind his fringe, which helped in the camouflage. He took a break for a minute.
There was a faint barking in the background of the silence, and loud approac
Make it stopI wasn't scared at first.
I mean, I knew what happened to women who were accused of being witches in this time, but I had a very high pain tolerance, and could engage my natural healing process at any time. Any scars would go quickly, I had potions for that.
When I was caught- well, not really caught. I'm not a witch, am I? Nah. There isn't a proper name for the species yet, as I REFUSE to be called a fairie or fairy, however it's spelt. I just call myself a Hybrid.
Anyway, when I was caught, there was a bit of panic on my end; I thought I'd been really careful but I suppose not. I was taken to the local church where they put me through the tests. They tried the cross first. I guess I'm lucky I'm not a full demon; crosses only work if they're bigger than I am and closer than three inches away. When the cross didn't work, they tried holy water. Holy water doesn't do anything but strengthen my angel DNA, so I was safe on that. In fact, if anything it helped my argument; it ke
No longer sickI'm not tanned and I'm not fair.
My skin is ripped I have no hair.
I cannot speak I cannot move.
I try to talk no words come through.
My lips are dry can't feel a thing.
I can't see I think I'm slipping.
Light hits my face and it gets to my head.
I'm no longer sick; I am dead.
I don't understand why you hate him,
Why you can't love him.
I don't know your reasons,
Perhaps it's because of your differences.
But I think you're being cruel,
Because you know how it's like to be rejected.
I don't want you to think,
That I'm on his side or anything.
I'm trying to take an equal ground.
But you're making it hard for me,
I already have enough trouble.
They found out about everything,
They know I'm cutting.
They know I'm hurting.
They know I'm dying.
They know I have problems.
They're trying to fix me.
You guys, you can't seem to help.
Michelle, you're acting strangely. You're hiding from me, and I don't like it. I know you're having problems, and I know it's hard for you, but please. Talk to me. I think you're dying Mimi, and I don't know how to deal with it. I can't understand your problems, I know. But every time he tells me about why he thinks you don't want to love him, it makes me feel sad. It's killing me Mimi.
Talk to me.
Billy, I know it hurt
.just try not to
that memory, that one
wolf that calls
for the rest
of the pack;
you'll spend all
with them inside
gossamer loveyou will love a woman
who uses the word
too often. she will
diagnose dead artists' descents
into madness and laugh
too loudly at jokes
no one understands.
she will braid crowns of
flowers, she will write poems
in constellations, she will
try to walk like a dancer so
no one can hear her
leave. she will be
an ice sculpture, and when
she cries, you'll convince yourself
she's melting, she loves you, you've
changed her, you've
changed; she will wear you
like a comma, like
an incomplete thought,
in her story, and
she will leave you wondering
crooked kissesAn old man sits at a bus stop,
his ragged clothes soaked
through to his creaky bones.
He grips his beggars cup
tightly, but instead of coins it
overflows with rain water.
Passersby pass by without
giving a second glance, brief
cases clenched in swinging
hands, Bluetooth plugged into
their ears. A little girl dressed
in pink polka dots prances
to his side. Her mouth moves
quickly and his takes time to
form words. She giggles,
drops coins into his cup, and
gives him a kiss on the cheek.
He laughs a crooked grin.
CatatoniaShe scrawls life line tallies on her wrists in scars
to mark each year passed
and haunts bars looking for the love of strangers.
she finds malt whiskey and vermouth; strange mouths to kiss
she tips them back the way a lover might tip her chinny chin
She whispers slurs and looks into the abyss of gin.
He inhales death with the smoky kisses of cigarettes
injects life paraphrasing echoes of love with hypodermics to keep
the hypothermia of loneliness back
but it creeps and creeps
a slow paralysis
under the windowsill, rain falling bleak on the pane to drip
into her veins
soft dark over the threshold of the doorway to her soul
writing ink into her shadow, there -
melting behind the lidded stupor stare of dreamless minds
it stirs and wakes,
invisible monsters sleeping in her chest
they bare their teeth and bleed
pain naked in the light of morning
ugly and beautiful in the honesty of strangers unable to turn
from a car crash in the dusk.
walking in darkness
searching for touch.
To the one I forget to loveSunshine girl,
your feet are itchy for the miles
between your sighs
and hunger scratches
at your throat
but you have a smile
that swallows oceans
and your heart
into the Marinia Trench.
this heaviness in you
is a dandelion
coming home to rest
Cigarrete Smokesometimes you want to
kill the world inside you,
but you can't
because you're too worried
because you can't see the consequences
because you don't like modifications
because you can't make up
well you're excused,
excused from giving a damn,
for the cigarette lighter
(I'm too tired to stomp out the ashes
and blow the smoke away).
A Daughter Now BegottenIf reason could challenge the knowledge of infinity,
the blindness of justice;
should we not call ourselves Gods...
And Gods are we not, for if justice were truly blind,
it would hold the same fate for rich and poor alike...
Under the celestial heaven that shines above,
the beggar's crying face and the rich man's arrogant gaze...
So of The Creation we are, living in throngs of solitudes....
Each solitude made torturous by the lust for more money,
yet eased by the kindness of strangers and the love of God...
Which power of change is made,
unto glory from a prisoner down trod,
to a man of faith, who helped a dying woman in need till loving eclipse.
A daughter now begotten, of starry eyes and golden sun ray locks...
Cherished by God and adored by both parents,
though mother soon to be with the Creator Almighty,
this daughter grows up knowing the brittleness of mortality...
...As her lips of red rose blossoms,
her heart aches as the mourning moon that hides behind the bosom of clouds...
Silence is the loudest Scream
Silence rips your voice apart,
Your mouth opens to say something, but no sound comes out,
Your tears are falling silently,
You're screaming but you can't hear anything,
They can't hear you either,
Not over the laughter of the shadows surrounding you.
Pain travels up your back,
Across your face,
Down your legs,
Around your neck,
It burns at you.
Your skin is torn off strip by bloody strip,
And your hair ripped off in uneven chunks,
You already knew you were ugly,
But you don't care,
You just want it to stop.
The laughter is loud,
And it echoes through your head,
You feel sick but you can't do a thing.
Finally they leave,
And you are left,
As nothing but muscle and bone,
In a pool of your own blood.
Why are they still laughing?
You only now feel the noose of chains around your neck,
And hear the motor of a car.
It's finally ove
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More