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Possible Rough Draft. Maybe.Somewhere, deep inside, there is a lead box.
It was intentionally misplaced,
But it's there, buried and hidden and locked up tight.
The box stays closed no matter what;
It is best that way.
Too many thoughts are its prisoner.
I don't care to visit.
It's Pandora's Box with no hope,
And I am wise enough to turn away.
It's too much hurt for everyone.
The box must stay hidden.
Yet, here I am in this dark, lonely corner,
Key in hand,
Deciding: unbearable release
Or annhilating explosion?
There is no happy medium.
Circular ThinkingHave you ever been so unhappy that you can’t do anything:
Can't do a damn thing but sit
About how much you absolutely hate
While you’re busy hating yourself,
You’re not getting anything done,
So you hate yourself for that.
You’re caught in a never-ending cycle of self-loathing and failure.
This is my life.
And I hate myself for it.
RealityLate at night,
When you can't stop sobbing,
Your heart and mind are racing,
And all you want is for everything to stop,
You wish for courage
Anything to provide an escape from your mind.
But nothing comes
And nothing changes.
You are alone.
You can't stop sobbing.
Your heart and mind are racing.
And all you want is for everything to stop.
Please, just stop.
The Steps to CuttingMy arm, burning for a blade,
Because of the feelings that just won't fade,
I try to say, "Go away!"
Instead they just replay.
The blades are sitting in front of me,
My hand is shaking, fighting the need,
I pick up a blade, to complete the deed,
The blade flies across my anatomy.
My arms are bleeding, my heart is torn,
My legs are cut, my feelings worn,
The time right now, I feel reborn,
Until tomorrow, when I'll be scorned...
Ex Nihilo (Out Of Nothing)Out of the shadows of nothing,
Sirens sing sweet songs of serenity,
In a ring under the remorseless rain,
Of those dawning tears of twilight,
Heralding the end of everything.
There's nothing here for me,
And all these scars scare me,
Eyes of eternity ensnare me.
Taking apart the skin of my suffocating soul,
For all my failings of fury are foul.
There's nothing here for me,
Though all my plain plagues me,
Seizures of sorrow saves me.
Playing with the hell in my healing heart,
Then all my despair of death will depart.
There's nothing here for me,
When all those things torment me,
Cries of confusion cement me.
Containing in the woe from my wailing wake,
Where all my feelings of fear I can't forsake.
Flock Echo PassionThe gentle tone of your fingers
defly handling my thoughts.
You soften the regrets in my ribs
weaken the bones with love
pressed into my shoes.
You melt my marrow with murmurs
lazily spent in the mornings
rested on the sighs of your breath.
swallow my heartbeats
to keep them warm
and in tune with yours.
You unlock and rob my tongue of words
like a piano with too many keys
spilling its lullabies onto the floor
softly turning the locks of my mind
with the music in you
if I would only stop to listen.
PersephoneI fed her
and she cried
at every frozen sunrise
for 180 days.
With cracks in my heart
caught in my hair
I counted 180 more.
washingSo this is how I think I learnt to survive:
by rocking and railing and staying alive
and shading my forehead and gilding my glare
for the saints and the sinners are never aware
of the trouble they cause in the spectrum of sin
and the aches they create, and the passion within
a heart that is hollow from humming a strain
of the hymn of the hypocrites, 'gain and again.
I sacrificed frailty for a sense of self-awe
to fill in the windows and cracks in the floor.
I sealed up the air-gaps and locked myself in
until the mirror flew open: I was safe in my skin
before moving through fissures to carve myself out.
I trod through the maze with a skein of self-doubt
'til I found myself stumbling back where I began;
beginning, beginning, I will and I can.
I found it quite pleasant, like shimmering silk -
self-belief on my doorstep, waiting next to the milk.
Attention Audience!Attention Audience!
Listen up to me as I speak!
Come on, and gather around!
You must know that all I am
is forever an Attention Seeker!
This is the title that has been
adorned onto me by my parents.
I have problems, but I must be
manipulating them, and wasting
their hard earned money!
I must be lying through my teeth
when I feel suicidal or other wise!
I must be losing my credibility with
my parents altogether!
They don't trust me when I say that
I can be alone for a long time.
Oh, what they do is valid,
this I know is true!
Alone is never a safe time for me,
the night is never a place for me to be.
I'm drowning in the darkness within myself,
and they want a logical reason for
the way that I am.
They want to find some sort of cure,
so I no longer wish to kill myself anymore,
and they call it attention seeking!
They say all the self harm is attention seeking!
FORGIVE ME IF I'M CRYING OUT FOR HELP!
I've suffered long enough like this.
It's time for me to take control
over my inner
August RainsI would like to believe in
August rains: in days where things
matter and thunder
like wheels on a train & the sky is white-eyed,
staring up past her own skin, long fingers braced
around a curve, long toes straight
pushing dimples in the dirt.
Give me a fishing line and I will move the earth.
The seas are close to overflowing -
laughing gods pour gold into a warm bath.
There is no triumph in their hearts
yet the trains move onwards,
Keep in Touch!
Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More