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Thief of the ThroneHe tore their eyes out,
Let their blood run,
The only thing left of them that could.
The blamed and the blamer
War ever onwards,
The ceaseless torment
Overthrows the king.
But the throne is not what they thought,
No gold or silver,
No mahogany or oak,
Just a pile of rubble,
What more could they have expected,
What more from a monster
Especially one of the dark.
He lost it all,
And was blamed and judged,
Now no one sees the pain,
They just talk about the pain e caused.
So as the monster I say,
Just leave me alone now.
Throne of a MonsterLook at me.
Am I not a monster
In your perfect little eyes?
Am I not the devil
Sat on my throne of pretense?
Then you are blind I say,
Blind to the dangers.
Look at them.
I warned you
Of my accidental power.
Now you all scour.
No words can correct this,
Everything I did.
And now I'm probably
Making a bigger deal out of this than I should.
It's what I do.
Now look at me with your new eyes.
Am I a monster?
Passion in WritingHow do I get the passion back?
I sit and ponder,
My limb a blaze,
Clouding rational thought.
These words all seem so meaningless.
They are meaningless.
I've spoken so much,
None of these words are real,
Like the things he sees in his mind,
That broken man who made another mistake.
No matter what I write,
There is nothing but silence,
When once these words sang,
It's been like this for months now,
At least 6.
I've given up on flowing,
Given up on rhyming,
Given up on reality.
I'll stick to my fake emotions,
I'll keep pondering this question,
Yet I know the answer,
There isn't a way,
I've lost again.
OuroborosIt hurts to read those words,
It hurts to see those feelings.
There's a reason I try to hide,
From the emotions in my heart.
To love it hurts more than a thousand needles,
To be happy it burns like the core of the sun.
It didn't used to be this way,
But things change so suddenly it seems.
It honestly hurts to see you cry,
But it hurts more to know you care.
Don't ask why,
I ask myself about it every day.
All I know is that loving hurts,
But it is also the only release I can get.
To love and be loved cures the pain,
But it's a vicious, endless circle.
It's never seems to end,
It's my own personal Ouroboros.
Things HappenYou looked and I fell,
You spoke and I drifted,
You comforted and I landed.
It all changed.
You looked and I fell,
You spoke and I broke,
You turned away and I died.
The Burning StormHere comes the burning storm,
The blood and water shed,
"Time heals all wounds."
But not if I keep reopening them.
Sitting on the mountain I try to hide,
The only thing I have left to protect,
The storm will hit it soon,
The rain of fire and ash
Will destroy my camouflage,
And all shall be revealed.
Open the flood gates my friend,
But this day no water shall pour,
There shall be only chaos.
She's a WriterShe sits at her desk
Her headphones in,
The world shut out.
She bleeds for others
As words fly from
Her mind to her fingertips.
She stares at the screen,
At every little comment,
The good and the painful.
She forms her emotions
Into books and poems
To throw away the hurt.
She's a writer,
And her best weapons
Are her mind and her pen.
BetrayedI won't swallow your lies anymore
I can't stand your presence
You used to be my friend
But you're nothing to me now
And soon you'll be
Another bad memory
I won't be able to forget
Do you know what it feels like...To be lonely?
To be bullied?
To be called ugly?
To be unattractive?
To be compared to other women?
To be considered unnormal?
To be unloved even though you give love to others?
To face issues that you don't in reality know how to fix?
To think that your goal you're reaching for, is unattainable?
To feel like the cause of many people's problems?
To be held up on a high pedistal that you can't get down off of?
To realize that people don't like you based on your personailty?
To at no avail, keep up your happy and upbeatness for others?
To look at happy couples and wish that you had someone to be happy with?
To stop fighting for anything anymore?
You AgainOh, it's you again. I must admit,
The crooning has
The lies have been
And mine are like swords
It's just you and me
In this sick game
I can tell
You're pulling me in,
And I don't have
To pull you down
Sometimes, I've had
And all I see is
Then it became
I don't know
How to escape
Dark to see.
And all I can
Wonder at every
Turn I make
When can it be
By the LakeSat beneath a Christmas tree in late-March.
The ground is damp but pliant, it pretends to accept me
and then sneaks its cold fingers through my clothes
to dampen my spirits further with its chilly undertones.
I stare at the river, plump with soon-to-be April showers.
It does roly-polys over the smallest of obstacles and goes on.
It reminds me of what I should be able to do.
It runs as I grind to a full stop, and consider my life sentence.
The sky is blue; not like me, but bright and crisped;
Its been blurred by an amateur around the edges with cloud
But they don’t threaten me with rain just yet so, for now, we are friends.
The sun is missing. No one knows where she is.
She could be dead, by now. At the bottom of the lake.
Could have slunk there in a midday sunset.
She could of drowned her sorrows in the ricocheting tides
of a man made dam and its loosened throat. She could be.
She is not, she is hiding.
The sun hides from the world but leaves a blue sheen behind
to let everyone k
ConfrontationI shed a tear
The damage will be severe
Run away in fear?
I'll fight until the coast is clear!
Reasons We Love Homestuck“Reasons we love H O M E S T U C K.”
Why do this love this web comic, you ask?
Maybe it’s just the way the fandom rolls,
or how mean Andrew Hussie trolls.
It could possibly be Eridan’s accent (WWyeh?)
or even Feferi’s keyboard trident. (---E)
Some people say it’s Equius’ broken bows and arrows, ( D →)
but what about Nepeta’s meows and roleplays? (:33 <)
We really do love Sollux’s lisp,
and also when Karkat’s pissed. (FUCKASS!)
Including Kanaya's fabulous lipstick,
it's also Rose's amazing magic.
How about when Dave starts rapping
and Jade Harley begins napping?
We love Vriska’s eight-pupiled eye,
and how John is such an adorable guy.
Or maybe it’s with all the sprites
or how prospit glows bright.
Can’t forget about Derse’s darkness
or Gamzee and all his soberness. (WHOOPS.)
There’s also this thing with Tav and stairs
which he t
I Don't Come with the Edgesi.
It cries the way dragonflies leave ripples
in the rain. On days I swallow
whirlpools for breakfast and
drown with libraries for fun,
I can almost allow myself to forget
And it doesn’t want to make
me kneel on my shoulders
or pluck the weeds
from my scars;
I can see it try so hard
to be my friend.
But if I could choose
polka dots over tail lights
and sun screen over
I wouldn’t think thrice
or even once
not to blow the candles
on my grave.
That’s why I keep
the colons of analog clocks
under my tongue;
so I could keep the
figures eight of cliché’s
as keepsakes for old age.
I like to think infinities
have loopholes; tree rings
that dissolve into each other
with exhales for a caress.
And just when the tones
of lyrics would enter the
eutony of names, only then
would I drift into love.
When I wouldn’t be holding
my blood in my temples-
when all I am is a thought.
The running footsteps
we’ve come to cla
flower petalsi know that when we touch
that my energy is yours
that we are like flowers
because at our roots
we need water and love,
we reach tall as we can
to get to the sun
and stretch our leaves
to welcome it all;
and when we touch
i know that our skin isn’t skin
too soft for this world
when it grows rough with gravel
so i invite you back to our bed,
soft with the earth
where we can lie gently
and sleep until it is time
Stuck in my MindI have to say sorry to your face,
My mind just seems to want to wander,
So I'm not sure what you are saying.
I'm stuck in my mind,
Lost in my dreams,
Controlling the world around me,
With a scatter of impulses.
I have to apologise,
I don't know what's come over me,
I seem to be so lost,
I can't escape.
My mind reels through the memories,
The insanity of the world,
I come up with ideas that I can't express.
I'm stuck in my mind,
Lost in my dreams,
Imprisoned in my creative cloud,
Unable to tell you what I'm thinking.
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
Un roti de Cupidon"Patron.. je suis pas sûr que ça soit une si bonne idée..."
Un bruissement d'ailes presque froufroutant sur sa gauche le fit se retourner d'un bond, mais il ne put percevoir qu'un bref mouvement du coin de l'oeil. Ils étaient rapides, bien trop rapides. Jamais le vieux ne réussirait. De nouveau ce bruit soyeux, semblable à des ailes de tourterelles, mais bien plus proche. Dans son esprit il pouvait les voir, tournant au dessus de sa tête comme autant de vautours prêts à la curée.
Le bruit assourdi des détonations résonna et tout autour d'Emmanuel une pluie de plumes commença à virevolter tandis que cinq bruits sourds accompagnaient la chute d'autant de corps autour de lui.
"Ramasse les, petit. On a encore du boulot."
Avec une grimace mi admirative, mi dégoûtée, le jeune homme se mit au travail, enfilant des lourds gants de cuir pour se protéger. Son sup
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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