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25% = 100%Honestly my life is good,
Honestly I don't have anything I can complain about,
because anything that goes wrong in life,
is usually something I can help,
It's not good to try and question the past,
but it's horrible when you repeat the past,
you know the outcome is going to be the same.
25% of my life is bad, while the other 75% is good,
but honestly that 25% has such a big impact that it,
Sometimes makes 100% of my life feel like crap.
strangers in friendsMuslims brothers and sisters,
are suppose to be strangers
to the world, not to each other.
The rest of the world does NOT EXIST.Some people say that heaven and hell
Do not exist, there is no evidence
There is no logic behind it.
But i could argue that the rest of the world does not exist, outside of what my eyes can clearly see.
i can't believe something just because someone said it was true, i can't believe in something that i have never seen.
The only evidence that i have are clips on youtube, and programs
in the Television, We know how much those are true.
Even if i was on an air plane how do i know we were not circling the sky for two or three days.
It's people who want to confuse me
They want to make it seem as though we are free but of course we are free when i'm in the one place that exist for me.
So basically what i'm saying is that the rest of the world does not exist, because people love to dream up lies, to replace the emptiness in their meaningless lives,
when its obvious were all going to be in the same place as everyone else at the end of the day,and plus the evidence is tampered
Over allI found a way to save you,
you wouldn't have to lose anything
Because the things you would give up
would actually be benefiting you.
I found a way to save you,
You would of had so much
sweetness in your life.
I found a way to save you,
I would no longer have to
think about you through
I found a way to save you
you would of understood me
as much as I understood you.
I found a way to save you
I found a way to save you.
I found a way to save you...
I wish I could say
I have a way to save you.
Now look at me talking to
a dead person's grave
as if you could hear me
Over all your screaming.
Everything that made us.I'm just sad that your glad
that you choose to do the things
you know are bad, I'm just sad that
your giving up everything that made us friends.
Poetry of titlesif god is still there, your expectations everything.
you have changed, i am left. A disaster i am.
our appearance choose the destination, time can't tell.
Diary of a 11 year old murder.My first Murder was committed when I was 10. My victim was my father. The rat died just liked a rat should, through poison.
in truth he wasn't my real father all though I believed he was for 10 and a half years, and because I believed he was my father I always seemed to make excuses for his violent behaviour towards my mother (even the one's that weren't encouraged by alcohol) but of course I wasn't okay with it at all and the only thing I would do was not add to the quiver pleas of my mother by staying quiet as I dug my nails into my sweaty palm and chewed the side of my tongue as I pondered over what to do. anger grew in me, it was fierce and uncontrollable. I was mad at my father for the beatings, my mother for not beating him, leaving him, or at least trying to call the police, and mad at myself for not doing anything but being mad at people. Once when my stepfather Threw my Mother so hard she hit the corner of a wall and went limp as her brown hair slowly turned red, I f
My mind deals with
Overcomes my judgement
Today it's no different
I can't take it anymore
Observing my image but
Nothing is revealed
Before My Mouth Told You I Was Sickbefore my mouth told you i was sick, there were
the fingers that wrapped around cups and cups of tea.
i sipped oceans.
i sipped the seven seas
and my ribs were the rainstick that
sent shivers pattering like some
down your swaying, praying spine.
there were the hurricanes.
that is what you came to call them,
my eyes burst into lightning,
my chest quaked with thunder,
when my ribs heaved with the monsoon
that was my breath
until i collapsed, shaking, into your
beach house arms.
there were the missing beats.
sometimes my heart slowed, stopped,
staggered home drunk to gasp morse-code warnings
between my aching ribs.
sometimes the stillness was so perfect
(and alone so tempting)
that i wished for the beat
to wander far and
to be forever lost.
there were the ribs, and the collarbones.
i was a mountain range with
blood in my rivers,
you saw the carrot sticks
(oh god how could you)
and you let me feed myself with
there was the blood i was suppose
little victories.when i was younger,
i thought i was the strongest
little girl in the world
because i could easily
beat my older brother
at arm wrestling.
it wasn't until years later
that i realized
To the person who holds my best friend's heart...I know that is is kind of weird
But I felt that I should write this down.
I need to tell you what I feel
And tell you what he means to me.
He's my best friend and he's a good man.
Please, give him the love and respect he deserves.
He may seem goofy but he's very sweet.
I know this because he was always there for me when I was sad.
Now, I know that you're not bad
Cause he would never choose someone who's mean.
But I still want to tell you just in case you forget in the future;
Please don't break his heart.
He's been through so much
And he doesn't deserve something like that.
He is the kind of person who smiles even when he's hurt by others
And would take any pain for the people he loves.
I know, I've witnessed it.
I know he may seem kind of childish sometimes
But don't let it get to you.
It's just his way of expressing himself.
He's very caring and I'm sure he'll do anything to make you happy.
He doesn't look like it but he's very kind and thoughtful.
He'll put your needs before h
in which I gain sentiencesave room
for doubt, in the silence between
religious guilt and stolen
body heat. I am made of helium.
in my dreams they
pop me and
watch me flutter. I wonder if everyone
else’s head is so congested as mine,
hyperactive with inattentive people.
you are never serious--
he stares at me in a different
set of eyes; there are words
I cannot say, there are
things I cannot tell you.
(twice a week
I watch the people I love
leave me for good.
spiders in my throat,
you're wearing isadora's scarvesoh, i hope you never love me, satyr-girl.
misanthropic mistress, i am coughing up
crows & bleeding blue beneath pocked
vessels; these worn teeth may be ink-
cavities, but i have never been your poet boy.
I Saw a Burning ManIn front of my house, he sat.
Skin burnt off, now charred and black.
Hesitantly, I walked outside.
And he followed me with his watery eyes.
With steps as nimble as the snow,
I hid my fear and continued to go.
Now before him, the Burning Man.
I kindly offered him my shaky hand.
No malice nor vice leaked off of him,
rather sadness and agony which simmered below his skin.
I could feel it around me, the pain and despair,
yet, physically the man was nearly repaired.
For his scorched skin was not his problem,
instead the bottled emotions that devoured all of him.
“Would you like to come inside sir, and stay?”
In which he replied by looking away.
Again I asked, and received no reply,
and was startled when the man began to cry.
Unsure of what to do, I walked away,
Yet I’ll never forget what happened that day.
Be it from pain, or mute, or undisclosed desires,
I watched as the man was engulfed in fire.
I stood back in awe, with my mouth agape,
and feared that he had fallen into
Can you look deeper?You see that girl you just bullied?
The one you harassed over her choice of art?
The art of a man beating a woman to death?
She saw her father kill her mother when she was five.
You know that man who likes to photograph himself in dresses?
The one you called a homo because of his choice of clothing?
Well, his parents wanted him to be a girl instead of a boy.
So they made him dress like that everyday to pretend he was a girl.
You know that woman who writes stories about child rape?
The one you bullied until she didn’t know how to cope with life anymore
Her uncle has been in jail for the past eleven years.
He raped her daily for seven years of her life.
What about that guy who favored abstract artwork?
Do you remember him he liked to use the colors red and black a lot.
He was nearly beaten to death when he was fourteen.
He only knows nightmares because he remembers seeing his blood on the wall.
What about me? Do you remember me? Even just a teensy little bit?
You bullied me because
Today I will die.Today I will die,
It will be half way
I will look out
at the night sky
for the last
or one of the last
I won't expect myself to
It's sad the way that I view
everyone else, as though it
will be one of the last times
I will see them or they will see
me, but miraculously we both
awaken and meet, as though
we weren't so close to death
that we could feel it coaxing
our souls half way out,
hovering around us waiting
to tell us that we have died,
and then our eternal time starts
and never ends.
It's scary when I think about it,
not because I fear it but because,
I fear the one who ordered it,
Will god be happy with me?
will I be able to pass the
there is nothing I can do by then if I fail,
the only thing I will be doing is suffering and wailing.
I just want to be saved, be so good that
I am spared a punishment so bad that even
when i'm released the memory will still haunt me,
and it's and crazy because I don't know if I will
succeed unless it
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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