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For Me...For me...
My life is an abyss for violent toys that conquer my ashy feelings
Dreams of truth that I cannot face
Morbid fantasies that leave me desolute and hungry for freedom
And all that remains is the empty dark of despair and regret
There is no room within me to feel such remorse
Dwell in the pathetic thought of love or romance
Not even enough to let myself break into shattered pieces of glass
The wallowing disease epidmenic within me has spread
And I feel like a garbage disaster...
Autumn LeavesIn Autumn, the leaves decay and fall into orange and red colors
They hit the ground with such quiet... peacefulness
I can feel the flakes fall off my heart
Falling below the happiness line deep into a vortex i seemed to have nurtured
From a hidden oblivion i was unaware of at the time
Creating small strokes that set me off
I dont need to cut and see the juices of autumn leaves
Peek over like a sunset on my skin
Instead I feel like a corrupt mess filled with misinterpretations that frustrate me to no end
Causing the outer layers of my heart to shed and peel and float away
Down into the nothinness...
The grave i have begun to dig for myself has now gotten too deep
I cant see over the sandy walls anymore and I No longer
Feel something or anything
Just the very emptiness I have awaken
I have dug my own grave now I must lay in it
And let those Autumn leaves fall until one day...
...it all collapses...
I WILLBreak these chains of rust
Kick away the prison mate decoded with decay
Tonight I make my great escape
Then again, I opened my eyes
I'm heavily chained and strapped
There is no prison mate
No window to hope
Not even the comforting smell of rotten flesh
The company of a mutilated and beaten body
I'm here alone
I will make my great escape
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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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