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Elegy of a Broken SoulA beautiful smile
A joyful laugh
The endless joy
Captured in your eyes
All of it gone
Extinguished by night
How we shall miss
That sun-bright glow
Yet, you aren't gone
Because you've left your mark
In our minds and hearts
And thus you shall live on
May you find peace
In the realm of eternal solace
Where your soul lives on
Your Departed DestoyerAs I walked up to the front door of my house, I heard them arguing through the open window. I turned around and walked to the back door of my house. Definitely didn't want to walk into one of their arguments. They'd just both try to use me to hurt each other. That's how it worked when I was younger and didn't understand.
I was nine, getting dropped off from a friend's house, and thought I heard yelling. When I walked in the door, I saw Mommy and Daddy fighting, Daddy looked really mad. I ran up to my room and started crying, I didn't understand why they were fighting. Mommy came upstairs and told me that Daddy was being mean. I nodded and went down to dinner. When my daddy asked me how my play date was, I didn't answer. I didn't talk to mean people.
Daddy came into my room later that night, and asked me what was wrong. I told him that Mommy said he was being mean. Daddy started crying and apologized, leaving the room. I forgave him, after all, he said he was sorry. But the fighting did
Behind My SmileBehind My Smile
I smile everyday. I laugh and socialize. No one would ever guess the truth. No one can see the turmoil within. No one can hear my silent screams.
In 1st Grade, I'm weird. I'd rather read a book than play a game. People ignore me.
In 2nd Grade, I was condemned. I had rocks thrown at me as I sat on the asphalt.
In 3rd Grade, I had 3 friends. I clung to them desperately. By the end of the year, I had 2.
In 4th Grade, I'm labeled a freak. I'm too smart to be considered human.
In 5th Grade, I tried making friends, succeeded, now I have 5 friends. I am content.
In 6th Grade, I'm not in classes with any of my friends, people stare and me and whisper, pointing.
In 7th Grade, I'm tired of hearing "Freak" whispered where I walk, I start hiding behind a façade of happiness. This makes me more friends, but only hurts me in the end. I begin cutting myself at night
In 8th Grade, I make friends whom I can tell the truth too, but it still torments me. I cut, but not as often.
SchizophreniaI'm not here, but you can see me. I talk, I smile, I yell, but it's not me. I'm lost in the sea of voices that only I can hear. The voices are my friends, and my worst enemies. My doctor says I created them out of loneliness, but now they keep me lonely. Who wants to be friends with a freak who has voices talking to her in her head? The minute someone hears the word "Schizophrenia" they take off running. I'm not sane, I'm not safe. It might be contagious. I could snap at any moment. This is how everyone who knows feels. So the voices keep me company, reminding me that they are the only ones who can accept me. I believe them most days. They're the perfect friends. Sure, they don't have names, or faces. Maybe they can't hold me when I need a hug, or wipe away my tears, but those voices are the only ones who care enough to desire to do these things. And sometimes, I fade out into the voices, and one will take over, living life for me. Disocciative Identity Disorder, it's called. But, what
11. MemoriesThey haunt my waking
They stalk my dreams
The joyous laughter
The piercing screams
They never leave me
They're always there
In them I wonder
In them I'm scared
They come from childhood
They come through life
Some filled with pleasure
Some plagued with strife
Waiting by the door
Haunt me evermore
Heed My WarningDear Cheyenne,
Hello, self of my past. I write you this letter in the hopes that you will take the advice within and make this future brighter. Firstly, I suggest that you step out of your shell around people. Stop hiding behind that book and go start a conversation. You'll be surprised how many people are willing to get to know you. Friends are something you should work for and be happy with. That book might seem like a great listener when you need someone to scream out to, but it can't comfort you. Secondly, I beg you to take a brighter outlook on the world. Stop seeing only the dark side of a situation. For once, open your eyes to a lighter point of view. Perhaps in doing that, you can save you from yourself. That negative energy will overtake you, until everything seems like it's crashing down on you. You might ask how I know all of this. The answer is simple, I didn't have someone to give me this advice, and my life turned out
LostLost in my life
Confused at every turn
How do you solve a problem
That you don't know?
Darkness gathers at the corners
Of the jumbled mess of my mind
Sorrow plagues my noontime,
And melancholy my night
And yet, I smile, and laugh
So that you don't worry
I smile to make you happy
I laugh to keep you joyful
Your happiness means more to me
Than my life or anyone else's
I would give the world to keep that smile
On your face forever
And yet it hurts, holding it all inside
When will someone notice
The way I'm dying every day
Will they care if they do?
I take a knife to my throat
Then, my mind supplies me with an image
Of you smiling happily at me
And I can't bring myself to do it
Because it would hurt you
Murder Can Be FunDon't worry,dear
I'll just cut off your head
It won't hurt too much
And then you'll be dead
Calm down,my love,don't be afraid
I'll just kill you now with this knife's wicked blade
What could be scary about that?
Your blood will trickle in thin streams
From you,a few slightly pained screams
Then silence will descend
The blood will start gushing
And for you,it's the end
Hidden ScarsLook at her
What do you see?
Can you tell that she's hurt?
Can't you see that she bleeds?
If you only look at the lies
You'd say she's just bored
But look in her eyes:
Don't you see that there's more?
She goes day by day
And no one suspects the agony she hides
Don't believe her happy face;
On the inside she cries
She's good at hiding her pain
And the cuts on her arms
She stands in the rain
When she can't fake 'fine' anymore
Now she can't breathe
The pain's too much to bare
She can't hold in the screams
And she's running out of air
Look at her;
What do you see?
Can you tell that she's hurt?
Can't you see that she's me?
MaskShe wears long, baggy clothes
Because she says they're comfortable.
But roll up her sleeves
And you'll see nothing
But cuts and bruises.
To HerYou're the reason for my everything
You're the "why" I can't explain
You're the dream I'll never leave behind.
You're the name-sake of my butterfly
You're the hope I can't let die
You're the girl that won't get off my mind.
You're the love-poem I could never write
You're the thought that keeps me up at night
You're the smile that doesn't want to fade away.
You're the face that lives in fantasy
You're the dream I almost see
You're those whispered words I'll never dare to say.
... I love you.
AddictionI hurt so much
I wish I wasn't so scared
Or so easily won over
I wish I didn't have trust issues
But can you blame me?
People say they are there for you
But if you show them how you really are
Or even give them a tiny peek
They freak on you
Or take steps away from you
They make me feel like such a freak
I try not to be so negative
I try my best to be understanding of others
But never to myself
I'm not much of a fan of myself
Why would I be?
I'm nothing but a compulsive liar
All I want is attention
And I try to hide away the pain
I'm nothing but a pathetic excuse of an addict
Addict to various substances
An addict to self mutilation
Such an obsession over what I place in my mouth
God, I can't stand myself in the mirror
I nearly vomit at the sight of myself
But than again who wouldn't
I'm only an empty shell trying to find her place
To the BoyTo the boy who stopped in midsentence,
At random intervals,just to say "I love you"
Whose eyes lit up when he saw me,as if I really am
As wonderful as he says I am
The boy who stated his thoughts in screams
Who was so much deeper than he seemed
To you,the boy who lacked eloquence
But made up for it in confidence
The boy who once said "I cannot be
Anybody else but me.
And I can't be me
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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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