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The monsters take overDo you know how many nights I prayed,
For these nightmares to go away
Every time I screamed,
For every time I dreamed
The monsters awoke and I knew I was doomed,
The monsters arose and demons too
To stab me in the back
The monsters have taken,
Every thing I have forsaken
I have dreamed of a better place,
And then I see it, the monsters' face
Your god never helped me,
Why can't you see?
It tears me apart,
They have no soul, no heart
Your god was never there,
As I feel the tear
The tear, the shatter of my heart,
God and me, we are so far apart
The monsters have come again,
Are they even sin?
I have prayed so many nights,
For this to finally to be all right.
Like a drugShe writes to stop the cravings.
An itch she can't find to scratch-
It's a tugging on her heartstrings.
The voices inside her head
She has been quiet for too long!
The slithering snakes in her abdomen
demand her thoughts be written.
Crawling up along her ribcage,
They coil around her lungs.
Angry fangs slash at her insides
until their venom leaks
from out her veins
and through her pen.
it's not just the leaveslast autumn i spent an entire afternoon
on my back in the grass waiting for a falling
leaf to drift downwards into my open palm.
i was convinced that there was something
special about being the first to hold on to
something that had never touched the ground.
i pulled my eyes shut and tried to make a wish
but when i opened them it was spring again and
i had forgotten how to believe in something that
was heading towards the ground anyway.
questions to a fool.he sits in his house of ignorance,
the solutions darting between (want) and [need].
unhappiness his only friend, she
spites his affections, flits between
men who won't stick around past the night.
why do you hold on?
well, why do you?
you know you'll never
hold her, peel back the layers
as a man, as she a woman.
ugly little black sheep, you
never really fit into the mold, did you?
maybe she made you feel special
maybe you were even equals
but that amounts to nothing
so, my question for you,
dear sir, still stands.
(she's not that special)
will you continue to stand in the dark,
or will you inch towards the light?
cause and effect.maybe not so much the correlation between what
actions one takes, what words one says,
but the outcome.
teenagers always say, they always do, that
"I can handle it, I can
escape this, I can overcome and
be invincible, because I am me, and we are young."
they won't be the ones to
perish, they'll live on
through eternity, they can
chase the beasts of life and still live another day.
but when the blood is splattered on the
windshield, the body limp in a bag too big,
with a little girl in a cell too small and
a dream too shattered to ever recoveris it our fault?
or are we simply human, not seeing
past the bends and twists of time,
thriving only at that specific moment?
i saw my friend in a body bag today.
i saw her weep, scream to the world that all she wanted
was another chance.
life is only what we make of it. i
can tell you all what is wrong, to my standards,
what is right, what is foolish.
but what happens is all up to you.
you are the cause, i am simply an effect.
I am a PoetA quiet voice among the rest,
trying not to be a pest.
Afraid of what my voice wants to say aloud.
My mind is hidden in a dark shroud.
I see a maze in everyone's mind.
They're all searching for a goal they can not find.
I am a poet, a voice unheard,
traveling through life, word by word.
The Family Has Been InformedBullets that are too far away to hear back home
But words that will forever ring just as loud in my ears
Delivered from the lips of a uniformed man
The sympathetic sentence any mother fears to hear
I turn away as if ignoring his presence
Will make this unwanted reality go away
But he repeats that he is sorry for my loss
Those words are the last thing I remember of that day
I find myself looking out of the back yard window
On the swings in the garden I still see my boy play
I am bringing drinks out to him and his brothers
Under the sun, on the grass, on endless summer days
Those memories like photographs in frames on the wall
Now show my son with a wife and child of his own
A husband and father torn from their loving arms
In to the mass grave-in-waiting of a war zone
His old bedroom was already a shrine to him
Even before his blood soaked deep in to the desert sands
We waited for him to return from his first tour
Knowing the boy we’d said goodbye to would come home a man
Things You Hear Near A WriterThings You Hear Sitting Next to a Writer
An Onomatopoeia Poem
Click click Clickclickclickclick.
Deadly AdmirationHe stands there,
Merely relaxed as
His long fingers
Gently grip the brittle
Stem of the glass.
His eyes sparkles
Whilst in the company
Of good friends.
Humour, he charms them
With no such effort.
A man of confidence,
So sure of his status
Is what attracts me.
Little does he know
He shall meet his end
By my crafty hand.
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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