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And play on she mustI am a little sister.
Im also a big sister.
Sister had been playing doll the hole time . . .
And she’s still is playing.
Because she’s alone, so play on she must
But who to play?
The young sweet sister?
or the over protective older sister?
But play on she must.
For she cannot stop
Not if she wants the pretty porcelain doll become broken, fake-plastic pieces.
For to break the doll is to break hers self
For she is the doll . . .
. . .
Because . . . I . . . am the doll . . .
. . .
And play on I must.
If not for me or others,
Then for my dear brothers.
I am - I do - I know1. I am afraid . . . but of what?
2. I am silently hated, but there not good at hiding it.
3. I am alone, even though there’s always people with me.
4. I do force laughter . . . every day.
5. I do have “friends” , but only a few that understand.
6. I do wear a mask, on the front is written in big red letters “fake”
7. I do fake smiles . . . I perfected it at the age of 5 . . .
8. I know im broken . . . no, . . . shattered.
9. I know im quiet . . . but im also loud.
10. I know I can sing well . . . but its only another way to send hints on who I
really am, but no one picks up on them.
11. I know people think im weak.
12. . . . I am strong.
My story of being bulliedMy story of being bullied
Well . . . I decided at yes 3:01 in the morning that I would kind-a vent.
So im going to tell you one of the moments I think affected me.
What started my “mask”
The making of my first layer if you will.
I was in kinder garden: I didn’t have any friends . . . not one.
I remember one of the boy’s in particular didn’t like me very much -or at all for that fact-
. . .
Well, in the middle of the school year I remember he started to be mean to me.
This was a little surprising to me; he didn’t like me -not that anyone did-But he just sent me glares from afar and hated me from distens.
He first started too verbally salt me, then it turned into throwing thing at me. Like sticks or little rocks.
But . . . one day I remember very clearly . . .
He punched me in the stomach . . . and he was a year and a half older then me.
He did this every day till the end of the year.
I remember when he used to come at me, I would keep walking awa
The Art BirdSome people don't think the arts are important . . . i will NEVER understand them.
If i could imagine the arts as a physical figure . . . it would be a bird, The bird who inspires poetry, books, the bird who sings for you, who inspires you to dance!
When people take away the arts . . . they've taken the bird, clipped it's wings and tossed it in a locked cage.
The artist mourn for the bird, knowing their unable to set it free . . . to let it inspire them . . .
All people . . . every person has an art bird, if you're in a place that never lets you see your art bird, the bird will be forever trapped in a dark part of you.
But, some people never put there bird in a cage . . . but wore them proudly on there sholder, carried it around for everyone to see,
those are the people who try to unlock the other art birds . . . to set them free.
so that they can walk in stride, . . . with their beautiful . . . art bird.
Love illusionsometimes, when I close my eyes, I think your just an illusion my mind made to fill the empty hole in my heart that is love.
But . . . when I open my eyes to you tenderly kissing away my tears . . . I can't help wonder why, why you love me so much.
and why . . . when I close my eyes my mind fluids with images of your smile, of you gently holding me . . . as if I was a flower, and you were scared that if you held me to titley . . . I would break.
And as you whisper sweet words of love to me while i fall asleep, my only fear is that when i wake up . . . i wont have somebody to love me as endlessly as i love them.
Blood Thorn roseI . . . I am a red bud.
Young, fragile, tainted in the blood of thee innocent.
I have caged my self in thorns.
Protecting . . . from those who could hurt this old soul.
I cage myself for fear of being hurt . . . I don't want her to be afraid.
When she cries . . . It pains me.
But no matter how much I want to protect her . . . I know I have to open the blood thorn cage to bloom.
But by opening the cage, I could crack . . . Break
But I don't want to burden her with something so hard to fix.
Because . . . I am only her HEART . . . In a cage.
I Tear My Skin AwayI Tear My Skin Away
I tear this skin from my body,
Even if the world screams,
That I am only an illusion.
I tear the bones from my legs,
Through pain, I will grow,
Through suffering, I will become.
I rip the muscles from my arms,
These teeth from my jaws...
And with nothing upon me,
I carry on...
Like a broken puppet, still shivering,
Still forcing its way through the darkness;
I tremble for I am nothing...
And yet, I am moving. My voice still screams...
I draw breath into these tired lungs,
As I rip the flesh away...
And I shatter these mirrors before me,
With a voice that will not break:
Because the world cannot label me as nothing,
And I will live for my own sake!
"So tell me, is that all the pain you've got for me?"
I screamMy scream is loud.
My scream is honest.
My scream is desperate.
My scream is filled with truth.
Why would nobody hear me?
dearly belovedthese days
your name has been slipping
in and out of my rib cage
my heart forgets to beat.
how even after all these months i still
don't want to believe that
you're dead. how during the
first couple of weeks i prayed
to a god i didn't believe in and begged to know
if death tasted sweet to you. how once,
when the monsters in my head
didn't let me sleep, i
wrote you three poems and then
you were a supernova that
lit up my life for
a few radiant moments before,
like all good things in this
you came to an end.
the sinner in me hopes that you have wings now.
but i think that,
most of all,
i hope you no longer
remember what pain
Those Green Eyes (Or: Don't Lie to Your Kid)Those green eyes -
The green of joy
The green of hope
The green of love and acceptance -
Were always full of lies.
They first lied when I said,
After a nightmare at four am
When I was too small to reach a light switch,
“Will you ever leave me?”
And those eyes said,
Why did those green eyes
Shut when I needed them most?
"Are you okay?"
Would be a red line
That I would etch into myself
Those green eyes melted.
Those green eyes did shine
And I knew what it was -
I was young, not stupid -
But I indulged the lie,
For those green eyes.
"Will it get better?"
I asked one sunny Saturday
At ten in the morning
And those green eyes looked away;
“And you’ll be here forever?”
There were no words.
I made up my own affirmative.
Those green eyes -
When they saw
How I’d rubbed myself raw
notes on a matchbook love.if I were the type
to say how I really felt,
I'd tell you that
I hope you choke on your apologies
like they're arsenic
and your nails are already
with the poison.
I'd let you know
that I'll never be a body
for you to touch
just because I know that's all you want.
I'll never be a fairy in a bottle
at your waist.
this is no storybook, and
I am no myth.
hear my silence,
feel the cold absence
respond to your weak "I'm sorry"s.
I beg you,
stop digging the hole,
stop, just stop.
Hush and watch the flames
engulf the image you sold me.
you can tell me
I'm beautiful as much
as you want,
but I know that it's not enough,
that you'll always want more,
that you've been a wolf
between my legs all this time
and my fingers are bruised
from holding the leash.
now every time you whisper
"please be okay",
I will always tell you that
I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.
I will forever pretend
that I've grown up from you,
that I've become a mystery
Wrists.Wrists are not made,
To be cut up by cold blades.
Blood was meant to stay in your veins,
Not to be drained.
From your body,
You're stronger than that,
I know a person can only take,
Until they break.
And you have your doubts,
And when you lay in bed,
The pain is all you think about.
But you're so much more,
Than your heart aches.
So much more,
Than your demons.
Even if you feel,
Like your dying,
And you are through with trying,
Because all you've been doing lately is crying.
I want you to know,
That no, you're not alone.
And you re going to survive.
Please just drop your knife,
Because you're going to,
Make it out alive.
words, wonderlight has faded and words are heavy,
but there is a delicate magic
twisting between your fingers.
it is all a-scribble
melisma without music;
syllables stitching terra firma
to firmament in intricate
stanzas that require
neither breath nor sound
to echo, infinite,
within the depths
of susurrous souls.
it is cold and it is dark,
but there is a fire in you
and you use it with a fierce grace
that illuminates the shadows,
and ignites the demons
until not even the grey spaces
that haunt and harry
can hold dominion.
they are exposed
they are broken
into shards of sunrise
and rays of a quiet
you scare away the night
with exhalations that blow
away the fogged emptiness
inside, over and over,
sparking fireworks from
what was thought
to be ash.
Featherweight HeavyFeatherweight Heavy
this is how you witness love unfold
and bloom into something bigger
than rafflesia. something bigger
than the whispers
that stay huddled underneath bed sheets
stained with teenage curiosity.
bigger than the edges of coffee mugs
that hold affection
at the bottom of the cup like sugar
with your morning lover.
bigger than the sticky kisses
of his baby girl pecking her daddy’s cheek
for the first time.
it’s the love of two kindred spirits
that hover miles upon miles away
but are interconnected through
some magical, mystical,
whether it is through
a similar rhythm in pulsation
or akin ink that stains our fingertips.
love unfolds and blooms
when the rain is a thunderstorm
and it stands tall in the eye,
even if it stares down the petals.
i have come to hold in my hands
that we all fall.
even empires, even kings, queens.
even a wisdom of a god.
new civilizations born under
the weight of featherweight heavy.
death is light but ends are anv
it makes me laugh
knowing that if you even LOOKED at the path of PAIN i've gone down
you would berst crying at the site.
whispers and lies behind me . . .
say it to my face . . .
try, i dare you
scared of lil ol me?
. . . pathetic
you think you could even TRY to hurt me ?
nothing you say could even reach me
throwing your words of hate ?
even if you threw them as hard as you can
they won't come close.
. . .
" i pity you "
. . .
how would you react to thes word of mine ?
. . . dosen't mater,
what you tell me hasns't matterd in a long time.
i actually want to thank you
your the reason i'm ME
. . .
to have to try to climb up by knocking others down?
well, like i said
pathetic . . . and pity
i thank you.
. . .
but, i promise you
try to knock me down again?
and i WILL FIGHT.
because i AM stronger than you.
. . .
and i always have been.
Keep in Touch!
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