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What Makes Us HumanHave you ever heard a grown adult gasping for air
After only walking a half a mile?
Have you ever noticed a child covered in bruises
Not even he knows where they came from?
Have you ever heard a teenager struggle to complete one sentence
After taking a minute to remember how?
Have you a dear friend whom nobody wants to be near
Because she’s out of her own control?
Have you ever read in a newspaper of an attempted suicide
From an unreasonable sadness?
Have you ever smelled the faint trace of smoke and death
On somebody’s lips?
Have you ever seen a man who looks away from his girlfriend,
To look lovingly at another man?
Have you lived in a house consumed with the liquid
That motivates your fathers’ every move?
Have you ever felt the shaved head of the toddler
Filled with the most hope?
Have you ever hugged the one who gives twice the better hug
With only half the normal body?
Have you ever beheld the
CanvasLet her paint a masterpiece,
Let her paint a lie
Let her paint a word inside the shining silver skies.
Let her paint a mystery,
Let her paint a sin
Let her paint the things that lie in darkness deep within.
Let her paint a masterpiece
(but this time there's a twist)
Make the brush a blade and let the canvas be her wrist...
Perennial BloomsI want orchid fingers,
gossamer & shy.
But my reflection,
she charms vipers
with bloody thorns.
Too many corroded anemones
have taken root in my soul.
My rose-tipped lips
will shatter the mirror,
& her poisonous seeds will
incinerate inside my now
GuidenceI call upon The Goddess and the God
For Guidence through the Wildwood
Of My Mind
Wrap Me in Your Cloaks of Wisdom and Light
To Manuver Through the Tangeled
Thoughts and Fears Encountered
Within My Mind
Guide me Arround the Obsticals That
I have Thown arround that
Clutter My Mind
Bring Me Bright Blessings
Bring Me out Of Myself
Teach Me to Heal Myself
SO MOTE IT BE!
CuttingI step in shaking
In my pitiful nakedness.
The water pours over me.
If it were blessed,
I may be rid of this demon,
My own soul.
The warmth of the water brings
Every delicate vein
To the surface of my thin skin,
Like a spider web so tediously crafted
Only to be ripped
By the capture of an unwary fly.
They are calling for the blade.
I take out the razor,
Feeling its coldness
Upon my warm skin,
And slowly cut my arm.
The pain is arousing.
I watch as the small line
Fills with blood.
I make another scratch on my leg
And watch as my life
Pours from me in a crimson trail,
Mingling with the water,
Running down the drain
As if it flees from me.
What excuse am I to use this time?
The cat scratched me?
I cut myself on a piece of glass?
How ridiculous it is
That I am brave enough to cut
But too cowardly to speak the truth.
Am I a coward
For not lifting the razor
To my wrist and taking my own life
In one quick movement?
Dead Man's SwitchIn control, then not -
Sudden loss of grip.
Headlong to where?
Details lost, smudged, streaked.
Careening; no system of
No dead man's switch,
On a fast track -
With or without a god?
Keep in Touch!
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