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i am me, you, him, her and us.I am a man, who can't go and get a cure for his agonizing back pain, because he doesn't have enough money for a heal-insurance.
I am a girl, who only feels the razor against her skin, because that is the only way to get the pain out.
I am a baby boy, who is being abused at age one, because he is unwanted child, that his parents refuses to give him into adoption.
I am a woman, who deserves a better job and a raise, but can't have one, because she is a woman and because her bosses are chauvinist men.
I am a man, who wants to live so hard, but can't because he's kidneys and liver are about to fail, but getting a new one is quite hard for a prisoner.
I am a girl, who looks into a mirror everyday and sees herself as incredible fat, when in reality, she is starving herself to fit in society's expectations.
I am a man, who wants to help the world by donating blood, but can't because he is gay.
I am a girl, who is too tired of smiling, when all she wants to do is to give up.
I am a boy, who is
dance of a homeless man.I was walking in the streets of New Orleans.
Music came through everywhere - filling my soul.
I saw a lonely, homeless man sitting in a bench.
I sat next to him and he moved his stuff,
a radio and a cardboard box.
He looked at me,
and I asked him,
why is he sitting here?
"I use to play in a band,
but I got kick out,
my groove was too much,
I guess." He said and smiled.
He told me, how he use to play,
and make everyone smile,
and when he moved with the music,
the whole crowd moved with him.
I looked at his sad eyes,
"would you like to dance with me?"
He looked at me and smiled;
"I'd love to."
And we stepped up from the bench,
walked in the middle of the street,
and took one step,
fall into the melody.
And he smiled,
as he mumbled the lyrics,
of his old favorite song.
We sat back in the bench,
to catch a breath.
He told me about the times,
when he used to feel alive.
"You should have seen me,
I was rich and then,
I lost it all."
He told me.
"Drugs and everyt
truth of the old prom queen.she use to be the prom queen.
she use to be the most gorgeous of them all.
they all wanted to be or have her.
did anyone see the pain?
i read her from the magazines,
i saw her in the tv.
they told me,
she married a millionaire.
i just became a journalist,
as she became a rich and unhappy.
some point in my life,
i got to interview her.
"i tell you how i met him. i loved him from
that moment on, when he asked me; "baby, why are
you crying?" And we left from the party together
and laughed at each others jokes on the beach.
we had the time of our lives.
tell the readers, what they wanna read.
don't tell them about the make-up, that covers
the bruises. don't tell them about my regrets
and deepest shame. the shame of marrying the money,
because this old prom queen is broke and she
still had to be in the top of it all."
she said to me,
and a pretty little smile just faded away.
"my modeling wasn't enough in the couture weeks
in Paris. I wasn't enough to the people in the
you are strong.the only she can breathe is through the scars on her body - little cuts and bigger cuts, deep wounds and shallow wounds. each of them tells a story; "i wasn't pretty enough", "i wasn't smart enough", "i just wasn't enough".
she can't speak about her pain, not write it or even sing it. all she can do is to keep inside and try determinedly to get rid of it, but it consumes her, eats her alive. and just like that another razor blade running down on her skin, another slightly reddish wound, another deep exhale - and she feels nothing.
it doesn't get easier, better or worse. she is still there, sitting on the bathroom floor, looking down at her wound and thinking, how could she deserve all this? who lost a soul for her to suffer? who held their last tear for her to cry? how did this all happen? how did she end up here?
she stands up and faces the reflection of the mirror. tired, pale, overused, lost - so many adjectives looks back at her with empty eyes. and her shivering wrist b
how could you possibly know?you are sitting in the same cafeteria you've been sitting the past three years. everyday the same old people, the same old orders.
that woman who's sitting in the corner looking absently through the window, she's been sitting in that one place from am to pm, every single day. her eyes watches the people passing by on the crowded street outside the window. it took you three years to see the bruises and the cuts, until you realized that this cafeteria was the only place she could escape her unhappy, violent marriage.
there is that dark haired teenage girl, sitting in the chair and reading her book. you think, she likes poems, edgar allan poe and writers like that. she's always shaking this time of day and keeps looking nervously around her, trying at same time to read the words from the book in front of her. it took you three years to finally figure out, that when she was reading, she wasn't shooting drugs.
that man in the counter, he's slowly sipping his beer. he seems like a tough guy,
teacher's story.He rises from his chair to give a lesson to his students, but they are too distracted to learn anything."Can you look at me for a while?" He asks and looks at the crowd of idiots, with their phones and games. "Can you look at me for a fucking second?" He says a little louder and the swear words turns the students heads.
"Thank you." He lowers his voice.
"I should be teaching something here, but right now. I don't give shit, do you learn anything or not. No one cares. I have too much going on in my life and I don't want to teach, because I am out of subjects. I am out of words." He says and picks up the pen from his desk."I don't know, what the fuck are you doing in school, because the last thing you do here is learn. You fuck each other in the hallways, but you cannot pick up a fucking pen to write down some notes!" He yells and breaks the pen into two pieces.
"Mr. Cole, why are you so angry?" One student asks from the front row.
sneaking out to see you.when the night covered the city,
i heard rumble outside my window.
i opened it and saw her beautiful face.
like i promised.
in the middle of a night."
this is her.
this is the one,
that i dream my life with.
this is the one,
i build my life with.
this is her.
"you did know,
that this is a bad idea,
you really not suppose to be here."
i told her.
but i still came."
and i can't help smiling.
i take her hand and she climbs inside.
she sits to the bed,
"did you know,
as she tried to dried up her hair.
i sat by her,
close enough to feel her breathe,
and her heart racing.
"i really wanted to see you,
because i can't...
"you can't what?"
"...be without you.
i can barely live without you.
i really wanted to see you."
she says and blushes.
she leaned against me.
i feel her hand on my back.
and her lips against mine.
"i could do t
10-20-2010she was happy and beautiful red-head.
she loved her home and had a good grades.
she had the most perfect smile,
and eyes like an angel.
but she was lonely,
until she met a young woman,
a cheerful blonde,
with a careless hair and blue eyes.
a young woman with a wild dreams,
and heart full of love.
and after the talking they talk even more.
and when they kissed,
the ground beneath them shook.
it was love, pure love.
until the beautiful blonde's parents find out.
they kicked her out.
and red head was kicked out of her home too.
in the alley they both cried,
the bitter tears,
was washed to the drains.
the beautiful blonde couldn't take it anymore.
she went back home,
told her parents she was straight again.
they brainwashed her,
to never meet the red head again.
and the read head cried.
she cried rivers,
when her heart broke and her soul crushed.
from the pieces on the ground,
she could make anything anymore.
she didn't exist without her.
there wasn't any r
long hidden love.brunette standing on the aisle of a building.
she had a small heart and a beautiful soul,
and it all belonged to a blonde.
they had know each for years,
but never said a word to each other.
and in those speechless years,
brunette came through a weird feelings.
she believed they were called 'love'.
she tried to hide them deep inside of her heart,
but it was too small to keep those huge feelings as a secret.
every time she saw the blonde,
she felt she could burst into tears,
blonde was so beautiful.
one day on a lunch break brunette came closer to blonde.
she looked her to the eyes,
"i need to talk to you. let's go somewhere. just you and me."
they went to a park. sat to a bench and looked each other to the eyes.
brunette felt like she could drown into the blonde's blue eyes.
they were so deep, that she could just sink and be lost forever.
"i've known you for years. years without a word.
and now i wanna tell you a one small thing."
brunette started. she felt the rush of emo
Love?She's so beautiful.
I love her just the way she is.
I shouldn't feel this love-
I'm only just a kid.
Her smile lights up my whole day.
Her eyes are brighter than the sunlight.
Her body has the perfect complexion.
She's who I think about at night.
I want to keep living, just for her.
She's about everything I've got.
I wish she felt the same way about me.
She's got me completely distraught.
My emotions for her go far too deep.
She has no idea how I want to hold her.
Without her, I'm painfully dying.
My body keeps getting colder.
When I look at her, It's impossible to look away.
She's so gorgeous, it's got me hypnotized.
When I close my eyes, all I see is her.
She's so amazing, she has me mezmorized.
I'd give her everything,
like she's the only girl.
As a matter of fact,
She's like the only person in my world.
So what I'm trying to get across,
I need her in my soul.
I want to be with her forever.
Even after we grow old.
I want her to be mine,
I'm so caught up in my emotion.
I wish I could
She and HeShe sees a guy standing, he is waiting for the bus. He looks uncomfortable, his eyes going around the public place constantly. She follows his eyes, noticing they only stop for a few seconds when they meet a female. "A normal single guy, haha." She thinks as her bus stops before her, and she gets in...
He looks around, his eyes only searching for females. he feels uneasy as only he knows the real reason why he does this. Not because he is single, but because he wants to be a she...
my storyWhen I look at you all I see is shame. I see myself ,
classed and judged as the whore the street walker, all because I believed in love,
I look at you and I see mistrust.
and you know what? why does it matter what happened back then?
Today is now and yesterday is gone, I can't change what happened and neither
can you ,with snide looks or whispered disappointment.
Maybe that's why I can't tell you,
I can't ever tell just how I feel
Being with her is the most natural thing in the world,
It feels right and perfect, different from what
I felt for him , better maybe even.
telling you would give you another reason to look on me with disgust
give you another reason to tell people I'm a handful
another reason to say why I'm not good enough.
Being perfect is all you care about and it just isn't
I'm no wonder woman or She-Ra and I wont ever be.
I need you to learn to accept me for me.
I am your daughter, I don't believe, I am bisexual and proud to be me.
I'm a Bad Kid and I'll SurviveI like to stick up my middle finger at you.
Relax, its a joke.
Its my twisted way of saying I love you.
And sometimes it means exactly what it means.
You'll piss me off and I'll flip it up
when you turn your back towards me and walk away.
I like to swear.
Its a way of releasing that anger that builds.
The f-bomb can be quite therapeutic if you say it a lot.
(Fuck, Fuck, Fuck)
And its not only for when i'm pissed off.
The f-bomb (and many other offensive phrases)
are a part of my everyday vocabulary,
simply such as "thats what she said."
Those jokes never get old.
I roll my eyes and make weird faces
when you say something I find to be idiotic.
Yes, I know, I know. That means I have an "attitude."
But I can't help it, really.
I let it be known when I think somebody
is talking out there ass.
I call you out.
Whomever you are. It could be anyone, really.
I just need to hear something that I feel deserves a reaction.
And then I react.
It really makes me itch
when I hear bullshit being
There's a Girl...There's a girl I know....and I'm afraid for her.
She doesn't know who she is,
She's trying to figure it out.
She wants to be right, but only seems to do wrong.
She looks ahead, but can't forget the past.
She's scarred and wounded, and it's never healed.
She has no best friend, she feels alone in this world.
She's afraid to be herself.
She wants to let it all out, but always holds it in.
She is happy on the outside, but inside sobbing.
She doesn't know who her friends are.
She wants to start over.
She wants to forget.
She wants to know who she is.
But in the end, she's to scared to try.
Her secret? No one knows.
No one cares to ask.
No one cares to help.
No one feels.
She is alone.
The people around her say that she is strong,
But she's scared.
They say that she's beautiful,
But she has an ugly secret.
They say she's open,
But she's afraid to let people see her true self.
I'm the only person she has.
But the sad thing is, she's not even real.
SHE doesn't exist.
Greener on the other side?I have always wondered
"what is dating a guy like?"
Now that I'm dating a guy
I'm missing my gay side
I like him
I like feeling straight
But when i see a gay couple I think
"I miss that"
But as they say
"The grass is greener on the other side"
I wonder if this side will ever be as green
As the side i used to be on.....
Don't say a word.
Being silent will let us be heard.
We suffered,we cried.
Some of us literally died.
Were never heard.
But when the moment comes,
Our voices will stop.
All that will be heard
Is the ticking of clocks.
Teachers,Parents,Teens will stare.
We'll be so quiet,
It's like we're not there.
Don't say a peep.
Come on people,
Be Silent with me.
Love is BlindLove is Blind
Love is blind, so they say
If that is truth, then why
Must love have a gender?
If love is sightless
Then it cannot distinguish
Between male and female
And yet, many criticize
Love in its blindness
When it comes unto you and me
The Voice of An Aborted ChildI was never given a name
I have a face that no one will see
I can't grow up to be whatever I want to be
I have no voice
I have a mother and a father that I have never seen
Neither of them wanted me anyway
I endured a torture no one should ever have to face
I was torn apart piece by piece
I could not fight back
I didn't ask to be conceived
But when I was I just wanted the chance to live
I am an aborted child
What did I do wrong?
Did they think they were giving me a better life?
Did they think that I was just some inconvenience?
I'm sorry if I caused you pain, mommy
I would have liked to see someone's face at least once or hear someone's voice
But if I had been disabled that would have been ok too
I just wanted to live
Maybe I wouldn't have liked life so much
Maybe you were trying to do what's best for me
But isn't that something I should see for myself?
Maybe they didn't tell you everything
That's ok, I'm not mad, mommy
At least I'm with Jesus now
a box.i hate this box i'm living in.
i hate it's every black and white wall.
i hate it so much.
this box was so much bigger,
but since the day, that i realized,
i was in this box, it has become smaller.
second after second,
it becomes harder to breathe.
i can't be myself,
and nobody sees it,
because nobody has to see it.
just sweep it under the mat,
and just smile, when they ask;
"what is wrong with that?"
i don't want a diagnosis about the fact,
that they think of passing moment in life.
i don't want a diagnosis about myself,
about the part of myself,
that nobody understands.
they all have hard times in their life.
can i have that time too?
i have a hidden side of myself,
that no one understands and seems to dislike.
nobody says it out loud,
just guessing and pushing away.
i'm not straight, i'm half gay.
and everything is so fucked up,
because no one understands.
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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