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Realizing our Greatest FlawsThe worst feeling in the world
Is the realization
That we are no longer children.
When we were young
We spent our nights
Hiding from the monsters under our beds.
We feared the vampires
Whose sharp fangs tore us apart
Only to drink red from our veins.
We were terrified of the zombie
Devouring our minds and only wanting more.
Who use to be like us
But no longer can reach humanity, living in isolation.
We were afraid of the dark,
As it consumes us and our understanding
Concealing what might be there.
What we feared was there.
Ghosts haunted our past
And goblins filled us with fright.
We hid under our covers,
And tried to escape from
What we could not see,
But what we believed to be.
But what is most terrifying
Is that the monsters
Our flaws reflected through our dreadful imaginations.
And now we cannot hide
Because we must face our greatest fear
When we gaze into our mirrors.
A Terrifying Realization of Everlasting HeartbreakLove is terrifying.
I am afraid of looking into someones eyes
And seeing a future.
How lovely it would be
To hold out your hand and not be afraid of falling down.
To not be afraid of loosing yourself
And then watching them leave with everything you loved.
I have never loved myself,
Or felt content when I looked in the mirror.
So the day he walks out that door,
I do not think that my feet will stay planted.
I do not think my legs will stand strong,
Or my eyes look ahead,
Or my heart stay complete.
Because being in love is giving someone your heart
And trusting them to keep it close.
Love is falling and praying they will catch you.
And I do not believe that I will make it out of this world alive.
So I stray from the idea of a future
And avoid looking others in the eyes
Because I am afraid of seeing the constellations in their pupils,
Or finding an ending in their smile.
Because my heart is afraid of oblivion
And so I can only hope to fall
And only hope to love.
Blind LoveMaybe his glasses are on all wrong.
Or he hurt his ear listening to music too long.
He must have looked too long at the sky
Perhaps he has mist in his eye
It may be the wind took away his sight
Or maybe the sky took away his flight
He must be blind
To possibly find
Something good in me and my life
Depressing Thoughts Are All I KnowI want it to stop.
The pain in my chest I mean.
When I close my eyes I don't want to open them again
When I open my eyes I want to go.
I'm hoping for it to end
Because my bones are shaking
And the end is dawning
And I don't like it.
I should have something to live for.
I'm probably being dramatic.
Taking the broken and crumbling it to dust.
I'm probably being crazy
With my wicked thought and my shrouded smiles.
I'm probably being stupid
With these ideas touched by cigarette ash.
I'm delusional, hallucinating my own fate
But I'm alive.
I want it to stop.
Sitting here with a knot trapped in my fist is only
But all the same
This screaming in my head
Is louder then the pounding in my heart.
And as my breath is bated
And my lungs fill with the ashes of tonight
I let myself fall, and I allow myself to
New Ideas are FormingSuddenly it’s hard to breathe.
My heart is racing and it is becoming difficult to
How can I do this?
How do I do this?
My heart won’t stop hurting
My head won’t stop hurting.
It’s hard to stop shaking
To stop hurting.
To stop loving.
I’m so afraid of the future that I forget my past.
It’s suddenly hard to breathe.
Their words are stinging and their actions are burning
And I can’t understand their words.
Their words are drowning in my mind
In my bitter thoughts.
It’s suddenly hard to breathe.
To stop this aching
And the breaking
And the taking and oh how hard it is to stop
I think that is the hardest part of it all.
To tell yourself that it doesn't’t matter where you turn
The end is always around the corner.
It’s suddenly hard to breathe
ExpressionsI wish I were a better poet
So I could tell you how I feel.
Because these words get stuck in my throat
And make my emotions unreal.
I wish I were a better poet
And these words came from me.
Because when I think of you
The words don’t come so easily.
You twist words as if they are clay
Create beauty from 26 letters.
So how can I be good at this
When I know you can do better?
But for you I wish to type these thoughts down
To try to truly show it.
Because when you stop and smile at me
I wish I were a better poet.
No WordsI cannot speak.
My tongue is glued to my teeth and this stupid smile.
My words won't form
And I don't know how to breathe.
Heart pounding a mile a minute
And chest aching
I cannot speak.
You take these words from my mouth
And you turn them into shaking fingers and blushing faces.
I am tongue tied and heart twisted and falling.
What do I do.
With your perfect soul staring at me.
How does speech work.
How do I form the words off the tip of my tongue
And let them roll down my side like rain.
Typing feels like an eternity as I write this down.
I don't know how words work because you take them away.
And when our lips meet the world disappeared
And I no longer needed words.
Because my words are now yours.
And my beating heart tells you my story.
A story about a broken girl with broken eyes
And a boy who shone light through the cracks
And created a sunrise.
So this is what it is like to drown.So this is what it is like to drown.
To close your eyes and slowly suffocate,
To hold your head underwater and feel like up is down
Emotions seem to know no bounds.
Your head is reeling.
Disappearing into a moment in time when you looked at your wrists and all you saw was nothing.
When you stared at your reflection and all you felt was nothing.
When the numbness inside became more than nothing, when it become broken.
The strands that held us together no more,
And our eyes no longer have life.
Breathe in, Breathe out.
Hold on to what you consider sanity
And sink below the surface.
You smile a broken grin that is too wide for your face.
You break life into your eyes and hope that they don’t see the cracked glass.
Pity is nothing to us.
I am nothing
So this is what it is like to be a dear in headlights.
To open your eyes to a blinding realization that you am changed.
To stare int
Broken Mirrors and Flawed ProtectionOver time we learn to hate ourselves.
We search for flaws in a cracked bathroom mirror
These reflections are not us
They are our demons.
We look and look for our very flaw
But aren’t we all creations?
Aren’t we all perfect because of our imperfections?
Why must we search for satisfaction and acceptance from a broken idea?
I have learned from experience that skinny is acceptable.
That having curves and having a flat stomach is more important than having a soul.
I learned from the social norms and the magazines that I am flawed.
But I am myself.
Am I not good enough for you?
Am I not what you look for when you search for sexual fantasies?
I do not apologize for my stomach or my thighs.
I am not sorry for my freckles or my pimples or my chipped fingernails.
I will not apologize for my predetermined, biological, programed features.
I will not be a perfect image of society
Because we are all different.
Because when I stare in the mirror
All I see is myself.
And you know what?
When you lose a best friendWhen we said friends forever and
crossed pinkies like grade-schoolers,
I could only believe those words
lodged in your heart
like they did mine
because every time I think back
I can't help but remember the
under star lit constellations,
and study sessions where we
learned more about each other
than we did Biology
but now it's clear
that each beat of your heart
has made those words fade,
and you could care less
about crossed pinkies
but I'll still see you,
and hear your voice
and I'll still wish
the meaning hadn't changed-
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
At peace within this tranquil garden,
I picture the moments where I've made you smile.
Those times are endlessly precious to me,
I think they're worth the while.
They're worth the time I've spent with you,
Even if it wasn't long.
I only wish I'd spent a little more,
Before our love was gone.
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
smotherher spine was dusk
and unmade nests,
but he tried to live there
he was neither nocturnal
nor a dawn-believer,
so he suffocated
in the birdhouse of her ribs.
between my vertebrae, you are (cemeterial)oh, these writers never speak; they
claw words out of bird carcasses,
poets pecking viscera like necropolitans.
they count their ribs to remind you
of a corpse or of a matchstick. dry bones
between fissured wrists & funeral pyres,
these have been dying days &
they're all mortuaries.
Broken or UnbrokenI'm afraid of the day he learns to love himself.
For the day he looks down at his wrists and sees the stars
For the day where he opens his mind and breaks down these bars
For the day his scars reveal the golden interior.
I'm terrified of the day he sees his worth.
The day where his eyes shine like silver
And his heart beats in time to the marching of his feet
I'm afraid of the day he sees how beautiful he is
For that is the day he leaves me
Keep in Touch!
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