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ThoughtsI thought I could call you a best friend,
I thought that in the worst of times,
you'd be there for me.
I thought I could tell you my deppest
of secrets,with no worries of anybody
That I could cry on your shoulder
when I needed,
That you would always give me hand,
That in the darkest of times,
you would light the way to
That laughter made our bond stronger,
That death was our only seperation.
I thought that when everyone abandoned me,
you would be next to me.
I was abandoned and you were not next to me,
I thought wrong of you,
None of my thoughts came true.
But then again my thoughts never
Walls of AshWalls feel like ash,
tattered and torn.
Dead leaves drifting away,
leaving naught to morn.
Rain washes away broken shards
revealing hidden truths of lie.
Breathing life into dry death,
past torments becoming shy.
The tower blown over
by whispering winds,
giving sight to new life--
allowing the old to end.
HomeA place where you feel the safest
A place where you feel most at ease from the world
A place where you can be your true self
But now, why does it feel of a place of pain and misery?
Place of no hope, in bitter darkness
Once you been through it, you don't want to come back
Once you left, this is what I have been feeling
When will it ever end?
A cold winter chill that drives through this place
You always said “I want to come back home” and every time it gave more a better sense of security
Patience can’t just come like that; there were many times I wanted to just give up on you
But what brings me back is I have hope that s
Get Over ItGet out of my dreams!
You said it was over so why don’t you leave?
I don’t care where just get the hell away from me.
They say all’s fair in love in war,
But we both agreed the love wasn’t there,
So why the psychological warfare?
I don’t want much, just a bit of peace,
And I can’t do that
With you on my mind.
Hell, I can’t even say it’s your fault.
It’s me who’s remembering,
It’s just unconsciously.
Whoever said love hurts is a liar,
It only painful when it’s taken from you.
Rainbow Series: RedWhen the leaves cascade in forgotten fall,
it is their colour on the pale cement.
The hue on children's cheeks
as the cold nips their noses.
It is what dyes the trees,
for crystal stars.
The colour of berries
that taint one's lips,
and fading evenings of light.
When the logs are burning,
it is the colour they glow
before disappearing forever.
The scarf lost,
an ornament on the tree
and shades of a smile.
Foliage resting in morning,
apples nestled in branches,
delicate pomegranates below.
It is the colour you see
listening to the forest's whispers
I don't know where I came from
I'm not talking about birth
I'm referring to those times
Before humans walked the earth
What were we before then?
Is there truth to claim?
Was it planned or random chance
I hold my name today?
What kind of power
Created the extremes?
The planets and their moons
And everything inbetween
Why do I come across
The people that I greet?
Is it just by pure luck
Or fate and destiny
Why do old friends exit?
Why do new friends enter?
Our lives are merry-go-rounds
And we're stuck at the center
Why my color eyes?
Why my color skin?
Why the life I lead?
Why these thoughts within?
Not perfect enoughI had a break-down this week.
I succumbed to the stress,
and it completely consumed me -
slowly tore me to pieces .
Why did you have to force me?
I never wanted to do it and
the emotions, the sadness -
it ravaged through my being
and you were so, so oblivious;
No idea of the pain you caused me.
I'm tired of trying.
This week was tortuous,
and there were so many times
where I could feel the
crystallised tears sliding,
for no reason but the
depression coursing through me.
I give up.
I'm sorry, mum -
I'm not perfect enough.
Morning Light“Morning Light”
These hills that I’ve traversed
Within each and every verse
Have led me to believe
In all the things I see
And where I am right now
I could never imagine how
I have gotten myself to stand
On my own two feet again
I thought I could never dream
Or at least in what I mean
Or maybe this is fake
And these thoughts I can not shake
So sad and unaware
Bad thoughts are always there
Floating in my head
Taunting me instead
I don’t want to be naïve
And believe in what I see
But this thing called pressure
Is more than I can measure
Anxiety never disappears
Even though the ones I fear
Have finally gone away
Memory's PainCut my chest open,
let me bleed.
Find my soul
and set it free.
Tears of red,
Leave me be,
life's a blur.
Alone she treads
mist in moonlight,
a mirror broken.
Find withered dreams
in torn up pages,
for death is gained
in memory's pain.
Framed[ I met him at the county fair.
It wasn't like the songs predicted;
I had mud up my shins and he
had grass in his hair. What a mess. ]
[ I kissed him at my grandma's house.
He swallowed me and digested me;
I became a part of his simmering self.
We fused together, and I died. ]
[ I married him in a triangular church,
When I turned up in white he grinned
and whispered "what, no muddy knees?".
I put a leaf from my bouquet in his hair. ]
[ He kissed her at my grandma's house.
She had left it to us when she passed.
In the house where I'd learned about love
he taught me all I know about betrayal. ]
[ He left me at the train station.
Beautiful Insecurities! (I dare you!)So recently as most of you watchers of mine know, I took a picture and uploaded it. It was a picture of my cleft lip and palate. More importantly it was a picture of a part of me that I have tried to cover up and hide my entire life. Hard to do when it's dead center in my face but believe me, that didn't stop me from trying. Make-up, lighting, scarves, pictures of only certain angles. I was bullied in school. I had those that would call me "Crooked nose", "Third nostril", "Ugly", among other things... Then there were those that would just be curious and ask, "Oh my God, what happened to your face?!". Then there were those that treated me like a charity case. Like "Aw you poor thing, people are so mean to you." I didn't like any of those of coarse.
I spent years with insecurities and hiding. I thought they were all right and I was ugly. I tried not to be vain but then I was about myself.
One day I just had enough. I wanted to just put it out there. I wanted to take a picture of my most
Locked doorsLocked doors
I can see you
you choose to hide
leave me broken and battered
the invisible end
twisting turning but it's lockd
"any day now"
franticly grasp and cling
to this pitiful
has the dream been a lie
a simple flash
First LoveMost people don't remember it,
But I do so well.
Your eyes, you lips, your skin,
The musty, seductive smell.
I remember the first time I hear your name; smoothly uttered out of undeserving lips.
Most people don't remember it;
When you hear your lovers name for the first time.
I remember when I first saw you.
I don't know how, but something clicked.
Something in your eyes locked mine into place.
I'll never be let go.
Oh darling, how I loved it so.
Then, I heard you speak.
Not to me, but from afar.
You were cocky; I could tell,
But God, how I wanted to hear you speak my name.
Fast forward a bit to the first time we touched;
To the first time
Memories Into TrashCleaning the room, time for change as always.
Piece by small piece things are sorted out,
Tokens and memories unearthed
Some you wish could be erased.
Needles they prick your heart.
Turn to items,
Temporary Life NonetThe things in life are temporary.
It doesn't last for very long.
One minute here, then it's gone.
Appreciate it now.
For soon it will pass.
washing away the fray.
sense of rebirth.
where's the sense of worth?
let's begin again.
washing away disdain.
spring has came.
dousing the flame.
here comes the start.
ending was the hard part.
The end of the sun,
the beginning of the fun.
Either you're going to drown,
or dance through puddles in town.
Wash away the old,
and pour in the new.
Rain of gloom and cold,
the beauty you construe.
Mystery TodayA sly smile,
all the while
unable to faze.
though no discontent.
reserve calm widespread.
Calm and straightforward,
though details are guard.
never to come ashore.
Considerate and polite,
not causing fright.
Sense of style,
to take a while.
While it's one's own
never to be fully shown.
Not to glisten
but to be sleek.
Quiet and proud,
though rarely loud.
A sly smile,
all the while.
hidden in the fray.
GatewayI remember the day we first saw the gateway on the horizon. You thought it was further away while I saw how dangerously near it really was. I told you my worries and you changed them saying that we'd never get close that we would never go through that gateway but a different one. Our journey stopped as we sat on the side of the road talking, the grass whispering and the wind caressing us. Night fell and our worries eased by the sparkling stars and the silver tone of the world from the moon up above.
Before the night was over we packed our things and continued down the road, blind. When dawn started to come I saw how close we were to the gate
Spring is ComingLike the seasons people change. We all have our ups and downs, the hot and cold seasons. For me the harshest days of winter has ended and spring is steadily coming.
On occasion the last storms come seemingly out of nowhere, either it be rain of tears or snow of silence and indifference. The storms are less frequent and not as intense; the rainstorms down to a drizzle and the blizzards down to a snowfall. The signs of those that have happened barely there, the snow is melting, the rain evaporating, grass starting to poke through and shew forth that life and hope still exists.
With each passing storm the warmth and joy of spring grows ever ne
Where It Does Not ShineA parting glance in the room,
A flirtation down the hall,
A smirk dancing on lush lips,
A pair of wandering eyes align.
Unheard whispers ready to bloom,
Breaths lost in forbidden fall,
Sentences trailing down hips,
Hands seeking desire's sign.
Unless you can meet me
where it does not shine,
I doubt I will be thine.
glass in the tidegradac, croatia; summer.
it is a town climbed up from the sea:
a salt hymn, an exhalation, a brightly calcified
spray. the houses here are overgrown
as wildflowers, paths like tiny winding veins
sprung alive between them. from my balcony i watch
the sun crest slowly into afternoon,
and mothers lead their children
down stone slopes, arterial pull
to the water. by the shore,
vendors sell bottles of olive oil, salt,
sage, gathering up anything with the taste
of what mystery inhabits the air—brimming over
the glass lips, a curving kind of joy,
the whole earth, a bowl of it.
at night, my uncle drinks beer
and i drink wine. he watches
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More