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Someone Bought and SoldSomeone Bought and Sold
I am someone bought and sold.
A puppet on a stage.
I am many secrets told.
As I stare out of my iron cage.
I was hurt beyond repair.
Forced to kill and maim.
But no one seems to really care.
I'm just a piece in their game.
I will never break these chains.
They're all I have to hold to.
Just like the rope I tie in knots.
Your all I have to cling to.
Life so fragile.
Life so bleak.
Life so loving.
Life so weak.
Life so dead.
Not making noise.
Life so silent.
With dagger poised.
Life so beautiful.
Life so loved.
Life so harmful.
A feeling shoved.
Life so caring.
Life so kind.
A life so sharing.
So hard to find.
Love so scary.
Love so free.
Letting the loved finally see.
What is caring.
What is strong.
And wanting to belong.
Just Not EnoughJust Not Enough
How could you leave me?
You never even said it.
It was just those words you used.
How could you lie to me?
I thought we had it all.
But all the while you knew.
How could you lie there?
Telling me those things.
Wanting me to say something.
Something I never knew.
I love you.
I don't know why I never saw.
To your core.
Your always so unreachable.
Just as cold as before.
I guess I was never enough.
Not what you wanted.
Just not enough.
The Love I Lost For YouThe Love I Lost For You
I remember the rain that day.
That day I saved your life.
I remember the way I loved you.
Without regret, never doubting.
All my life.
I remember your lips on mine.
The way you pressed against my chest.
Your weight, your beauty.
You saved my life.
I remember we'd die to save each other.
Our hands clasped tight.
Neither wanting to live without the other.
I would give my life.
I remember the pain I felt.
The day I lost you.
I remember the torture I endured for you.
The memories I lost for you.
The lies I believed for you.
I saved your life.
And now, I have you back.
But I am more lost than ever.
I can't remember anymore.
The love I felt for you.
The love has been replaced with hate.
And hate is what I feel for you.
Real Or Not Real?Real Or Not Real?
I loved you so much,
The way you walked.
The way you talked.
I loved it all, so much.
It's so hard for me to remember.
All the times we spent together.
Under the stars.
Seemingly in love.
Can you remember sweetheart?
The times we kissed in the dark?
Keeping the other from dying.
Giving each other a reason to live.
You were my whole world.
The one I loved.
The one I suffered for.
I must have loved you so much.
It's so hard for me to remember.
Some memories shiny.
Some memories clowded.
But I remember some things dear.
The way we were brought together in fear.
You once said you'd rather die then live without me.
Would you die for me now?
I must have loved you so much.
But now I can't remember.
Or not real?
Beautiful MindBeautiful Mind
Oh beautiful mind,
Why can't you be controlled?
Your prideful ideas kill.
Your hurtful words rolled.
Off the tongues of many victims.
So many tremble at your thoughts.
Your actions cause remorse.
You make the certain doubt themselves.
If not by pride, by force.
Oh that beautiful mind,
Which once was lost, and is now found.
Weave your awful web of lies.
And bury your victims far underground.
The Book ThiefSometimes when I wander by,
I see this stranger,
as snowflakes fly,
reading and not seeming to be in any danger
I catch a glimpse of his book,
it's so brown,
probably with a good hook,
and I gently sit down
He still doesn't look at me,
it's "The Book Thief",
I smile and let him be,
and begin to feel grief,
Because I know that book,
it's so sad,
when he finally gives me a look,
I know he doesn't find it bad
That's why I smile,
and he begins to talk,
we sit there for a while,
and later begin to walk
He with a long winter coat,
and the brown book in his hands,
me as I float,
above the snowy land
can bring you together,
without arranging any meeting,
books are forever
Meeting the FangirlI glanced at the passenger beside me. She's a middle aged woman, with brown hair and hazel eyes. She wore a blue short jeans and a white shirt with yellow flowers on it. She looked very occupied reading a novel. Her expression frequently changed and then she looked like she was about to laugh.
I was curious. So secretly i took a quick glance at the book.
Heart pounding. She knew she wants him. It will never last, they said.
Oh, so it's a romance novel.
I kept on taking quick glances at the lady, but she didn't seem to be aware of it. So I just sat there, watching as she read. And there were times when she smiled slyly, and then she would held a small laugh, I just kept observing. And she was totally oblivious.
I glanced at the book a few times too. It's a normal silly romance novel.
"You are the best thing I've ever had in my life." He said, unwilling to let her go.
On this line she smiled like crazy. I know what it called. "Fangirling".
Yes, and on the next line s
God Bless the Doctor Ding!
The simple sound became an alarm for the one who guided the metal creature through fading roads in both blazing light and frozen night. Faces came and went without notice or care, oblivious to all but their own lives.
A figure sat beside a window, one of many waiting for the moment when they would leave the steel carriage and their feet would touch the ground once more. Golden rust flowed like a river atop her delicate head, hiding the twinkling in her amber eyes, the soft archer's bow of her pearly lips, and the tiny dots like stars on the canvas of her gently pale skin. A Kindle Fire rested in her lap, a single white cord connecting her to the images that played on its screen. On it, tiny pale creatures walked with nearly invisible feet, strangely adorable considering how they came into existence.
No blanket more comforting then one of words.There is no blanket more comforting then one of words.
As one door shuts in my life, there is always another book that I can open. Another adventure to distract me from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
Its comforting to know that the stories I love will live on, even when I am just a forgotten memory. Stories that will connect me to future generations in a way they will not even be aware of.
A way of escape from reality.
So when I am Sitting on the bus, my eyes heavy in my head and life weighing me down. I cant help but smile seeing that man two rows down, eyes glued to the pages of a good book. Or A woman I happen to pass by, sitting on a park bench during her lunch break. Her Sandwich sitting beside her untouched as she loses herself in the plot, I always remind myself never take a second for granted.
You dont know what great stories you could miss out on if you do.
Uniques VisionsThrough the tunnel life.
Life where perfection and truth are to question.
Long way from the painful adventure and challenge.
It always takes a train for life.
Ask where will this fierce and ruthless world.
On through DoomTrain for a short end.
Tunnels for the many.
Movement filled with various stop connected world.
Wandering souls looking at their reflections in the water.
Face diverse and different visions of crystal glasses.
Single soul reading the writings of hearts, listening to the songs of souls and watching the various worlds of thought.
Being admire the arts of many visions.
title of art is "Unique Visions."
The speech is announced through the eyes of each, the universe is open for a world Every movement, light and darkness are present, Art is the window of vision through the heart and soul of every being.
Word is the train of life current through time and space.
Everything is affected by this reality of destiny itself.
We are the world's energy as we are parents and children o
Deviant Art MemoriesMy favorite Memories of being part of the Deviant Art community is meeting new people from other part's of the world and make new friends, experiencing and learning new things that would help me become a more developed artist and looking back on my previous art work it show's how much I went from this to this and also my other best memories are when I met a lot of int interesting people like Versaill, VictoriWind, NoaQep, UmaYorokobi, IrisLullaby, Drag0n-Mistr3ss and a lot of other people, also when I became a member of the Group.
I enjoy being a part of Deviant Art's community and wish Deviant Art a happy Birthday.
Worth the money?I twirled what resembled fettuccine Alfredo around my fork in endless circles, entertaining myself with the sounds of the fork scraping at the bottom of the plate. My date, having scarfed down his “meal” in a blaze had spent most of the evening making love to a toilet seat, while I spent the night flirting with a limp noodle. Boredom seeping deep into my skin, I glanced around and spotted a portly 9 or 10 year old burning out his eyelids with the back-light from an Iphone. His face was round with freckled cheeks and his hair glowed red in the dim lighting. He was wearing ripped jean Capri pants and what looked like a spaghetti-sauced Adventure Time t-shirt. He hunched over the edge of the table top, laying his arms on the surface as he lowered his neck and lunged head first into the phone. His face was blank and sunken as he bested the flickering screen at a staring contest. Apparently, shooting the undead with flaming peas in Plants vs. Zombies was more interesting than ha
The Path Taken by All I see very little without my glasses. Everything is a large blur of colors until I slip the red television frames around my view. I figure it would be best to draw my unknowing subjects from a park on this rather quaint afternoon. I sneak closer to find a gorgeous subject about the age of eighteen reading a book. I realize that she doesn’t notice the other people strolling by, but continues to look up from the book as if she is waiting for someone.
I noted down every blonde streak in the auburn hair spouting from her head in every direction known to man. Her cerulean gown flipped and twisted in the summer air. She set down the satin covered book. She’d been reading Gone with the Wind in what seemed only to be German. She clicked her Mary Jane shoes together in dissent. “He’s fifteen minutes late!” The lady moped with a glint of wrath in her sea foam gre
The Girl On The Train (Through Your Eyes Contest)The girl next to me is a conundrum. Subtlety she tucks a strand of golden hair behind her ear. The movement seems subconscious. She shakes the strand loose again, then tucks it in once more. Like a nervous tic. Over and over again. The other hand is less occupied but just as repetitive. It keeps smoothing down the cover, flipping the crinkled yellowed pages of the book in her hand.
She is clutching it I notice, as if it holds everything. I’m not sure what book it is. My vantage point is less than desirable. But anyways, the blurry glimpse I happen to catch is less than enlightening. Whatever language the book is in, I don’t happen to speak it. She sighs a bit. Other than the hair tic, it’s the only real movement I've seen from her. Though I am not sure how long I have been watching, it seems a very long time to hold so still. Save of course her shallow, consistent breaths.
I wonder what the small exhale means. It’s seems to hold a lot for just a little gust o
All My Life All my life I wAll My Life
All my life I was taught what I thought was right and wrong.
All my life I dressed for church and knelt before the Lord my God.
All my life I sinned and hurt and all my life I lied.
All my life I hurt with words and all my life I cried.
Then I heard a story of a boy not quite my size.
Who sang and danced and smoked and laughed.
Who had a grand old time.
He testified before us all twiddling his thumbs.
He said he tried to take his life he said he wanted death.
He didn't want to feel and he didn't want to see.
He didn't want his miserable life to end in agony.
But he cried before the Lord the one I had despised.
He begged and prayed for care and love.
For the love he'd never had.
He looked up at us all his eyes shining and clear.
I saw a tear trickle down his cheek and I saw him whisper there.
All my life I waited all my life I cried.
All my life I hoped and all my life I tried.
But it seemed I tried not nearly enough and it seemed He did not care.
Only then I realized he nev
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
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