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The Trump Card. I walked through the old fair grounds, trying to find something in the least bit entertaining to do. I rode all the rides, ate funnel cake, and played all of the games. But I had a feeling I might of missed something. Eh, who would normally care, right? I mean, you rode everything. But this was a tad different. My friends wanted me to do everything at the fair, because I had only been once in my life.
I continued to walk around, until I stumbled upon what seemed to be an old, circus tent. Me being who I am, my curiosity got the best of me. I glanced at the tent a bit, seeing the... bland colors. Nothing but black and white. I looked up at the top, to see if it had anything. All that was there was a sign that said "Dark Raven's Telling." I noticed a light glowing through the tent. It seemed like a lantern. I pondered for a moment, thinking if I should go in or not. Again, me being the curious person I was, I went in for a little look.
The only thing that was really not
Go To SLEEP. -Jeff the Killer Poem-The black haired boy looked in the mirror.
All he could see that his end was growing nearer.
He smiled for a moment, but he was in pain.
He knew for a fact he was going insane.
He laughed and laughed.
He took a knife and made his little scary "craft"
He cut a smile into his mouth.
In his mind he looked beautiful, without a doubt.
He walked in his room and looked for a lighter.
He turned it on, the fume growing brighter.
He burnt out his eyelids, laughing more and more.
Then he threw the little lighter down to the floor.
He picked up the knife he took in his room.
He would no longer be consumed by gloom.
The boy walked down to the end of the hall.
He knew that they would pay, pay for it all.
He slipped in to the room, quiet as a mouse.
He knew the way around his very own house.
He took the knife and stabbed his kin.
He didn't care, he knew it was sin.
As the knife went deeper than deep.
You could here the very faint whisper.
"Go to sleep."
Mexico short story. -Hetalia-Mexico raced down the long garden that him and his brothers were playing in, trying to catch up to his brother. "Wait, Toni!" He said, still running after his older brother, Spain. They were playing hide and seek, and Mexico was it. He was playing with his brothers, Spain and Portugal. They were both older than him by a few years, and they always picked on him. Mexico wanted to show them that he could be just like them, but every time he tried something, Spain 'the boss' told him that he could never be like them, and that made Mexico very upset. He never knew why.
'Why do they hate me?' He thought to himself, still chasing after Spain. Portugal was hiding in a tree, watching his youngest brother chase after the other. He chuckled at the thought that Mexico said that he could catch Spain. Portugal tried to climb the tree higher, but made a wrong step. He slipped and fell all the way down to the ground with a thud. Mexico and Spain stopped immediately once they heard their brother wince
I am a MouseI am a mouse.
I am quiet, I am nothing.
I am a book that nobody has read.
I am an eclipsed sun and a cloaked moon.
I am irrelevant and unwanted, a broken toy in an attic.
I am the dust in your rear-view mirror that you leave behind.
I am the air that you breathe in and spit out as something different.
I am the palest white. I am the darkest black. I am the dullest, emptiest grey.
I am the old man with forgotten memories and the baby who has yet to make them.
I am a forgotten word, dangling on the tip of your tongue, hanging on the noose of your lips.
I am a dried up stream. I am a felled forest. I am an abandoned cornucopia of resolute nothingness.
And there is Hell burning in my eyes.
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
you talk like a travestyoh, mercury boy, you can't
write your way out of this
body or out of this mind;
you can pray like it's high-fashion,
insist you're only burning yourself out
(but tell me - do you feel like a god yet?)
if only for murky mirrors &
silver cicadas caught
in your ribcage, you've
got a knack for decaying
poem for borderlinesif i could concentrate over
seven hundred thousand eyes
at the roof to the numbers stepping
from the nicities & rows
to go back
to the shattered surface
& the ripples beating over the hang
halfway between shallow
biting lips. maybe--
she couldn't have known
that it takes a whole three minutes
for the lungs to
well, maybe she
who, oh well
the white; the haze--
the booming over
the spume and spray
me get out of my head
just pull up the shutters
my tongue the weight to talk
but that's all we'll ever be:
a match burning itself out for
under the backspray of someone else's wheels
The PointIt’s the taste of cake mix on the spoon, that first time you ‘help’ bake a cake.
It’s seeing the bright world afresh after a dark nightmare, when you first wake.
It’s when you make them laugh and, in that moment, everyone loves a clown.
It’s when your heart stops before the roller coaster plummets down, down.
It’s when the lights go out before your favourite band plays and you scream.
It’s that moment you look around and everything’s perfect enough to be a dream.
It’s the anticipation of waiting for a new episode of your favourite television show.
It’s the first time you listen to your favourite record and you just sort of know.
It’s reading a book cover-to-cover and a million times more and still crying at the ending.
It’s the stiff, tight, real feeling of a smiling scab as you watch the wound mending.
It’s when you first meet your best friend and you hate each other (but in a good way).
It won't be too long.It won't be too long.
That girl you see walking around, looking at them all.
It feels as if that she is about to fall.
Into an abyss. Something that some would not want to miss.
She could be described as an outcast.
But it's stupid to judge one so fast.
But who cares, right?
It's not like she will ever give up this fight.
She knows who she is. She is a fighter.
And she knows that some people are liars.
So little child, put down that knife blade.
Because what you are thinking about doing is insane.
You are beautiful, no matter what they say.
Even though it may seem hard.
At the end there is always a beautiful rainbow.
And that child, is what we all want.
For you to be happy.
And yes, we will all run into a friend, and sometimes a foe.
Who will be there for us.
And we MUST keep our heads up.
It won't be too long.
You will rise up and be strong.
It won't be long.
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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