Welcome to Rising-Artists' 2014 Prom! We had over 100 RSVP's sent to the group, so this feature has been split into two parts (Part II here). Please note that in several cases, only one of two partners sent in their RSVP's, so we were only able to feature one of the partners.
Special thanks to our matchmaker Penis-Jam as well as all the admins at Rising-Artists who helped organize and put together this feature. This prom certainly would not have happened without you guys.
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The Looney Little Tune We PlayI cut myself with Occam’s razor while shaving...
...either that or Schrödinger’s cat attacked my face,
or maybe it was just an ironic reversal.
(Fighting like cats and dogs raining through my ceiling.)
Maybe the cat was really the sphinx,
threatening a plague on the entire urban overloaded city.
Asking me a riddle in order to cross the bridge,
(I think it was to cross or maybe to crucify.)
I said, “I’m a pyromaniac but the name’s not Oedipus.”
(Four....two..Three...Four minus two is two and will never be three by the evening.)
I’m always the scapegoat in Stockholm, I even got a get away truck.
Either way, I’ll probably just drive past the sun to cast a shadow over the rain check...
...cash in my hyperbolic discount, because hunger is the only thing keeping me motivated.
(But I ate all my pudding so I’ll have to seek proof in this illusory correlation.)
Doc said I need to eat more cow, but he
Puppet String SymphonyHere come the snares,
wrenching at my heart;
like my tongue can’t find the words to say.
I've been resurrecting your skeletons,
just to place broken flesh over it and watch it all decay…
…scratching at freshly picked scars and rose petals,
while digging up old habits and hatchets;
just so I can whistle a tune so tragic.
Here comes the wind,
stomping at my lungs;
like my emotions are gasping to be released.
I've been coughing up your cover-ups,
just to place my index finger over it and watch it all cease…
…living in this darkness, sulfur-tipped match tossed in the breeze,
while thinking it’s just not worth the candle;
just so I can hum a song you can’t handle.
Here come the keys,
playing at my mind;
like all eighty-eight demons and angels serving one star.
I've been worshipping my self-inflicted headache,
two times twelve and that’s how many bars…
…I've got to show you the color I feel.
When the puppet string symphony beg
UntitledI just might be your fine-tuned Stratocaster
I will even let you pull and bend my strings
And do not fret if you have to relieve a little tension
But if things seem a little distorted
You just might hear some feedback
Because if you want to hear me sing
Remember you have got to
Turn me on
Tune me in
But always remember
That I can play with the best of 'em, baby.
No more mockingbirds. Just singing canaries.
I wont wear a coat made of sugar. I will grow into my jeans.
No more train wrecks, I will be back on track.
I wont carry around pieces of time. I will place them on cycle in a dryer.
No more six hour distant stained-glass mirrors.
I will see. You will see. I will speak clearer.
I wont drown in raindrops. I will swim in the puddles made from fallen skies.
No more out of map, I'll have plenty of wandering to do and still be on scene.
Like a play carrying a song with a specific rhythm and sound.
And the ground.........
will no longer be silent for which it stands.
I'm always so wonderfully delighted with your work. Every piece is different, and not at all like anything I've read before. Not to mention I am incredibly delighted to be here at DA prom with you Keep writing and never stop believing in your work! When you least expect it, your pen might save you. Your support has been indescribable over the years, I couldn't ask for more. Much love to you.
AlbanOpen your turbulent eyes
...and see what is before you
Tiny hands and squared-off feet
Looking more like Heaven
Each day I cast my eyes
On your smile
Nights that blend to days
Days that blend to nights
Too much coffee
Falling asleep in a wheel
Of eternal attentiveness
Your laughter is a sunburst
Stretched across eternity...I hang
Onto each syllable
Afraid you might disappear
The difficulty of responsibilty
the wild ride with no sure end
the peace of falling to sleep
I am not sentimental by nature
you turn me into a babbling
idiotic mess of mixed up
made up words
You call us and I want to cry
And laugh as each day your words
Every whisper is Fate
And I am horribly, happily, helpless
Never thought that I could love someone
More than my partner
You proved me wrong, proved us wrong
And perhaps I am destructive
But in strange ways you heal us
The attraction to our opposing magnets
So each time I see you
SoleilBrilliance filtering through windows of white
A smile grieving into echoes dashed by time
Green and gold and guilt granted
Exhaled much like murmured sighs
Down hallways with dark beginnings and cloudy conclusions
Shadows of beauty overrun by tongues and tears
Touching innocence with gloves of guile
Blown glass hefted by bloody fingers
Aqueous rain riled with wrath
Toil and hardship through shared cognitive cogs
Loam dusted in consummation and expectation
An ache for loss and love like light
Glow from afar…dying flames…ready embers
Blasted into shatters and sparks of sin
With whispers of hope hanging on gallows
An executioner capable of pulling three ropes with rage
Or false witness playing pittance for self-pity
Something sliding through outstretched fingers
Grasping golden threads in desperation
A bird you cannot cage and failed to free
Madness in mediate music for many maestros
Conduct or conclude the orchestra of omnipotence
Look into verity envisioning vindication
I love that you are not afraid to venture into different styles even if they aren't "mainstream" at the time. Also, the fact that if you choose to write "mainstream" that you usually make it into a twist or even some times turn it into bit of a satire. Your work is really great and I am thrilled to go to the DA prom with you as long as you pay. Like pay for everything.
I love you, Emmy! So glad I get to finally go to prom!
Day 16Laughter, like a brook,
ripples through and around us.
What a way to drown!
PruningMy grandfather said
that if my hanging house plant
vines too long on one side,
it'll weigh itself down.
Today, I intervene
with my pocket knife.
After trimming the elbow
of a particularly strong stem,
I wince at the wetness on my finger,
but I haven't cut myself.
Petting the still-intact foliage,
because in helping,
I made it bleed.
its branches reach,
and toward the sun.
Solemnly I dispose of the clippings,
then go to wash my knife
and my hand.
Day 11Do the hard things--
not to prove yourself to them,
but prove yourself to you.
Red ShiftI. Stasis i.
"I need to hide a body,"
Before a question is asked
I. Stasis ii.
I hang up on him
Wait for vivisection
Wait for him to call back
What he heard.
I can hear him
Go back to sleep.
II. Intravenous i.
He is alive.
Photos of him
Have a distant red shift
In his eye.
Photos of me
Have an approaching blue tint
In the iris.
I wait for him to call back
What he heard.
II. Intravenous ii.
For the others
I had hid a town or two away.
Won't break the cul-de-sac asphalt
Where forest floor
II. Intravenous iii.
I am postcards away
When a dissected victim
His tone is brisk,
As if his lips were scissortips
Splitting his tongue
"We're still attached to each other."
"Yah Ed, we are."
I was a phone call away
II. Intravenous iv.
At the church
Paper NapkinsAt the diner I am a customer at work:
I never put my napkin in my lap.
The toddler from the booth behind us
watches us— mostly me. Open-mouthed
and un-drooling he scoots back to sit
in the booth and his mother places
the paper napkin in his lap;
it is sooner under the table
than she intended,
and he’s pointing.
I never put my napkin in my lap because
I fold a paper crane for the waitress,
tell her it means good luck
when it very well may not,
and go on to bless
the next establishment.
Thank you both for sticking with me! I envy you both for your talent with words, your outlook on life, and your big hearts. Let's have fun at the "Prom!
Monarch MorningsMistress Monarch spreads
over white-capped mountains,
a new dawn seen through
thin antennae masks
and yellow-trimmed lace.
Bashful SkiesThere will be nights you stay awake
to see, to count, to make wishes on
the stars...and they won't be there.
The city lights will be too bright,
the moon will take center stage for a tragic soliloquy,
storm clouds will be thick and angry at you
for not paying attention. They will get in your way.
There will be mornings you get up early
to see, to paint, to be inspired by
the sunrise...and he will disappoint you
by wearing faded colors that wash him out,
by being so late you have to go to work
with unwashed hair and yesterday's wrinkled blouse,
by deciding to wear no colors at all
but shrouding himself in last night's storm clouds instead.
At these times, take a deep breath,
think about all those moments you've had it rough,
and remember this:
even the sky wakes up feeling ugly...
but the sky still tries to put its best foot forward
when the time comes.
Beth, we are new friends, but already I can tell we have quite a bit in common, on and off the page. I have so much respect and admiration for you and your writing and am honored to get to go to dA Prom with you! Here's to a blossoming friendship!
Only as Old"Frail bones predict what fragile minds can't detect,"
He trailed off slowly, "And my bones are achin'."
The air around me hung low and depressed,
Sticking to the back of my throat like a stormy syrup
I'd tried to swallow down.
I peered out the kitchen window
And caught an inklet of patched-over-grey sky;
I wondered what was in store for the day.
Impartial to the gloom outside, we stepped out onto the back porch;
Grandpa wobbled out with his cane in hand and we waited.
In the hushed stillness the trees traded birds
Robins, swallows, whippoorwills, and cardinals.
If you squinted hard enough at the sullen shrubbery,
You could spot the caterpillar creeping to the underside of the leaf.
That's when I looked at Grandpa,
And saw through his eyes nature receding
At his prescience of a storm.
"Grandpa, how do you always know?"
He chuckled and simply said: "The world tells me."
It was left at that, but years later I have found
That the world is only as old as the person to whom you speak.
Let the Sparrows InI.
Blackbirds rest on the power lines,
their silhouettes form the notation
to a dawn song set on the sheet music
of telephone poles contrasted by the sun.
Curled leaves are land mines littered
on the lawn where imprints of twigs
and a nurturing robin's tracks collect.
Branchlets and leaflets stem from
porch step railings and mailboxes;
the numbers read odd on the east,
even on the west side of the asphalt:
The engraved letters on
the siding reads, "Davis."
This house is home to family
so let the sparrows in.
with its branching hallways
furniture rooted to the floor
family, friends, the occasional
out from home.
Let the sparrows in; let
Let the door's
loosen—let the door stand ajar
be let open
the night owls and
let the doves
in pairs in the iridescent
Let the sparrows in.
Framed on either side
Hearing Half of a Conversation Forgive me for helping you understand
you’re not made of words alone.
—Roque Dalton; Clandestine Poems
I first learned how to build a house of playing cards in an adolescent psychiatric unit in suburban Chicago. A roommate taught me a trick, a mindset really, to have while placing the cards themselves— that a house of cards is always stacked against itself to stand. My trial-and-error attempts led to a lengthy row of playing cards
Nic, I can't thank you enough for your friendship: for listening, for confiding, for swapping music recommendations. You are an amazing person, and I'm so glad to know you. Thank you for believing in me and in my work.
Kat I love you so much, I can't express how much I feel for you and how amazing you are! I am always here for you forever and always!
I love your face. Deal with it. You make me smile from all the way across the ocean so youre stuck with me forever. I love you moirail
Chained to these...pits of hell.
A lost love. Death where I fell.
I scream my anguish; I scream my claim.
Claws in my eyes; knives to maim.
Leave them alone; let them be.
My children they saw...they saw me bleed.
I laid there dead; my eyes left open.
Now headless children; my heart has broken.
My soul ripped from...my lifeless corpse.
Dearest LoveHis window slightly open,
Just enough for a piece of paper
To somehow slip inside,
The wind blows yet again-
Lifts the letter upon its shoulders-
And lays it softly upon his chest.
In the Morn-upon wakening-
He opens his crystalline eyes
And beholds a letter of love.
A tear of longing cascades
Upon this letter.
He grabs a pen
And turns the letter over.
I was born into this world,
With not much you see.
I've cried and I've curled-
Praying to drown in the sea.
But, life goes on
And demands me to stay.
Like a trembling fawn
I awake each day.
But, each night I look at the stars.
I wonder and dream of a love for me.
I ponder where you truly are
And question if you'd have me
No matter how far.
The wind ruffles my hair
And I smell your sweet scent.
Not only I, but nature cares
And Our love seems heaven-sent.
The tears upon this letter are shed for you-
I long, I love, and I have relief-
Emotions I know to be true.
I have a simple belief
That one can fall in love
By words alon
We haven't been speaking for very long but you are very kind and extremely talented. You really deserve more recognition for how great you are, I want to thank you for giving up your time to support a complete stranger over the internet. You're amazing.
Innocent Love UnfetteredThyne eyes sparkle with love unfettered
innocence and beauty not tainted with despair
universal secrets trapped forever on unspeakable
lips only to be lost inside a young expandable mind.
Innocence and beauty not tainted with despair,
nothing but fireworks left unlighted and dusty
lips only to be lost inside a young expandable mind,
hands felt only inside a breaking aging heart.
Nothing but fireworks left unlighted and dusty,
hope reflecting through mirror orbs without deceit.
Hands felt only inside a breaking aging heart
while a soul crumbles it's spirit untended.
Hope reflecting through mirror orbs without deceit
mind whispers that echo floating crimson moments,
while a soul crumbles it's spirit untended,
lingering silence grows uncomplicated insanity.
Mind whispers that echo floating crimson moments,
universal secrets trapped forever on unspeakable
lingering silence grows uncomplicated insanity,
thyne eyes sparkle with love unfettered.
Carnal QuestI can lose myself in the pleasures
of the flesh, of which there are
many I haven't tried as yet.
I can bus to the city and
set upon a carnal quest.
Slake my lust while trying
desperately to erase your face.
They are oh so willing and
my body is always ready to go.
Satisfaction can be found on
every corner that makes it
easy to get what I need
without losing my soul.
Determination and a little
black dress equals a night
I don't rest, the tears will fall
when I'm alone again.
Come the dawn I wont
regret the ball but I ain't
Cinderella, won't leave no
glass slipper calling card.
The world damn straight
runs on sex and gasoline
I don't need fuel but sex
isn't something I'll leave.
I know for sure that
death is the only thing
that's coming to me.
But I await the reaper
with open arms, eagerly.
Dream CrusherBlood on the streets
crimson stains on
don't worry bout
my soul honey
I don't have one
on a lonely wire
do you think
about me too?
I'm down here
on the ground
howling at the moon.
I've got tons of secrets
that I'd die
and I'm tired
of picking at the scraps
that's littered at
I'm as black as
I've been painted
served me well
and there's not much
I wouldn't do
lies and lies
don't equal truth.
Let the people
do their talking
I hear the rumors
just because they
doesn't make it
smoke and fire
put a little
water in their mouth.
...I never said I was healthy for you
I'm a death wish
to one and all.
You have poignant poetry that focuses on the emotional, and I love that you hold nothing back. I’ve been around dA for some time but have been basically invisible for the past couple of years. Still – even then – I have been able to see that you have impacted people for the better. Look at your work. You are able to provide readers with a down-to-earth connection that often evades most poetry. You have a gorgeous soul that reiterates your heart’s native theme: passion in all of its scintillating hues. I can’t wait to learn more about you. I am glad that we’ve been able to connect, and I seriously look forward to annoying you so much more in the future. Now, let’s dance chica!
You're an amazing artist and a great leader to the Girl Scouts. I'm glad I met a person like you
night breath collisioni knew that we weren't meant
to last forever. we'd fired
shots at the bulletproof sun.
i ignored the others for
pulses, strobes, and light,
palming a smoky sky in a cold,
cold world alone.
we are the fringe on a
poised above a soul sea frozen
in a filthy sheen.
i was the one who kept
myself hidden in newspaper;
you were the one who
destroyed the world.
your words fell like bruises;
exhilarating pain stabs and
scissors across my jagged
earlobes and into the leaking earth.
i think we've both
Constellations and Highways (Act 1)ACT 1
Birds chirping below clouds. Sun gleams.
Enter Constellation Lady.
CONSTELLATION LADY Once again, I grow weary of
The same schedule every waking
Dawn. I am bound to the stars,
And am unable to leave my
Domain of the clouds, unable
To be released from the grasp of
Enter Arctic Lady.
ARCTIC LADY Whatever are you doing?
You are due on the other side of
The world. They will be curious
As to where the stars are residing,
And we are never to disrupt the
Course of nature.
CONSTELLATION LADY Do you ever wonder what
It is like below the clouds? I
Believe it would be wonderful.
ARCTIC LADY [appalled] Why do you bring such
Apocalypsei remember when you took my hand and
slipped me into a world alone
i shake the gravity from my hair and dip
into the shadow of baking clouds and
inverted meteor showers
a creamy apricot sunset surfs over
still-silenced flesh and
them before erasing them from existence
we're sunken like the houses in which we
creep, bracing the hearth against fading spirits
we're sunken but we rise against
your world is swooped into a nightshade of
woodblock and still-silence
mouths are wrenched open a maw, a void and
everything is thrown into a juggernaut of grit
Aero, you're one of the kindest and most talented people that I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. I'm so happy to have met you, and I want thank you for always being there for me and inspiring me with your beautiful art. You're absolutely amazing, and I'm infinitely lucky to be able to have someone as wonderful as you in my life.
How to be Found in Eleven Simple Steps1. Understand that you must be willing to give up the fragile solitary universe you created from the instructions given on page three.
2. Spend more time building from the ground up. It will take longer, but you'll like the result.
3. Rest when you are weary and remember the times when you were strong, hear that strength in every word that you speak.
4. Keep in mind that you are human, and that survival is weighed against life more heavily. You are survival. Life is your goal. If you disagree, move to step 5. If you agree, skip to step 6.
5. Return to 4 and repeat until you believe.
6. Live not in fear of doing something you'll regret, but in order that you won't regret not having done something.
7. Leave for home and release the heartache. It is not your home now. You are a wandering spirit.
8. Taste the different air in every footstep, weigh the light that feeds your shadow, and take comfort in your solitary walk...
9. See the countless colored souls that walk about, and how each glo
minus 2 min.2:00
she struggles against the tears grappling on her face. she was wrecked, and felt as if each piece of her was torn to pieces and taped back together poorly like a child's art project. she felt insignificant like one, too.
a choking sob wrestles against air for escape from her throat. the air wins. she nearly suffocates as the sob retreats.
her family was downstairs doing nothing. at least, nothing which would matter to her, anyway. they were unaware that the family tapestry that held them together was about to be unraveled.
her friend texts her but the vibration fails to capture her attention. she, herself, is already caught by her own misery. she's fighting so valiantly against succumbing. another text goes amiss six seconds later.
her friend is mildly annoyed, and decides to text someone else. her friend has always had low patience.
she pulls herself up and her teeth pound in rhythm with her temples. her heart thumps at a lazy beat, as if floati
Black Widow Inames
names aren't important.
the acts that define an are.
I, as an individual,
have done actions I'm not proud of,
and I should regret it,
scars sear into-
my skin like a-
it hurts it-
h u r ts-
not on my skin,-
not on my hands,-
but in my mind.-
psycholog i c a l-
there's you and could that
nothing I do is right.
when I was-
Aerode, you've been one of my biggest supporters on here, and for that I thank you immensely. Your writing is great and improving rapidly with every piece, and I'm amazed at exactly how devout you get with the community. More than me at least xD
^ and all that.
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
i echo fractiously
in my own heart
and never in those
of my mellifluous
you walk to a steady beat
that i am unable to follow;
and crashing symbols
call me back
to the fractal disarray
of my mind.
glints in my eyes
like a falling star,
inching ever closer to me-
an unraveling scintilla,
a murmurous roar
my labyrinthine thoughts
i may soon be swiped away
by the cruel hands of luminescence
and the steady ticking on
but my mind is plagued
with the thought
that you will just as soon
breathe like you mean it (even if you don't).my breath stumbles
on an unimportant step.
fracturing, my drumming heart
plays jump rope
with my frenzied mind.
sort of chaos fills me,
echoing and refracting
as i beg for it to shatter.
there are too many mirrors around
with the nonchalance
of a guilty child
that i haven't inhaled
in a while.
my mouth opens
to rectify this.
'yes, of course,
fine, fine, fine.'
trips my sprinting breath
and a sob
shoves it to the ground.
i cannot tell
if the shaking i hear
is coming from my breath
or my darting eyes
or my witheringly cradling hands
but it doesn't matter
there is a footprint
in the snow
and a message
in the rain-
You, Jen, are one of the most wonderful people I've ever met. You've been kind since our first few words, and I feel we've bonded so well over only a few months. I can't find any words to describe how influential you've been to me, and I'm sure many others. I consider you one of my best friends, and I'm so blessed to have met you. Stay amazing.
HomecomingA cloud hangs over
this city by the sea
like a new day rising,
like a calm
before the storm.
A million miles away:
your signal in the distance,
to whom it may concern;
I always knew that you'd
come back to get me.
You were my fire,
so I burned till there was
nothing left of me.
I'm always screaming my lungs out
till my head starts spinning;
once upon a time,
I could take anything,
Every time we lie awake
after every hit we take...
So this is what you meant
when you said that you were spent.
that your heart breaks.
were about as predictable
as the quicksilver clock
on our kitchen wall.
you were a steady drumbeat
in the soundtrack of our life
and i was the bass guitar,
when the monotony succeeded
in sawing away at you,
bringing you back from simplicity
with the intricate vibrations
in my nylon strings.
you taped pictures, words
on your ceiling
and fell asleep
staring at them like stars
to the sound of artificial rain.
in the morning,
you woke up to find them
scattered on your warm body
and took them
as messages from the universe.
you were the vanilla scent
that wafted through the house
on wintry days,
and sending me on edge
i was the cold.
i kept you
from melting at the seams,
burning into ash,
bursting into flames
and destroying everything in your wake
but i am still nothing more
than the polar opposite
of your essence.
i am only
a lack of warmth,
and you never wanted
the cold's calculated
Yellowthere was a dandelion
growing next to your driveway-
a splash of color next to black
that drove you insane when you passed by it,
yet you couldn't pick it up
and throw it away.
you like dandelions,
how nobody appreciates their beauty
or wants them on their lawn,
[despite the wishes they make secretly]
because you're a weed yourself.
just a weed, trying to pass off as a sunflower.
you're like a lemon,
i told you one day,
all rough and sour and unappealing
until you add some sugar and toughen up.
i thought of you
while i made lemonade
[because no, i didn't throw those
lemons back at life].
SpiralingSpontaneity, I sadly don't see much around here. Which is really unfortunate because you're an awesome writer; I still remember thinking exactly how unique your stuff was when reading your colour series
But either way, your as brilliant as Aerode, and very glad you could come to our polygamous prom date :3
There is a 10% chance the queues will be too busyStart high school in mute excitement as the oily bus trundles you away. It will never be replaced. In third year, it will be replaced. Lose your phone a day before the bus change. Phones do not like you. One will jump into thieving hands/ the North Sea on the Belgium trip. You must go to that. It is brilliant. Do not, DO NOT, ask anyone out on it.
You will get and love your Nokia brick. It is unbreakable. It will get a crack in its screen and you will be surprised; it will be one of the few times in which everyone is surprised at something you are surprised at too. Joining any clubs will make you uncool. Mingling awkwardly by the canal or the pitch is how you gain respect. Be scared to go out of the school building until boredom drives you to three parks and eventually Sainsbury's. The first park you will leave because someone will try to bludgeon you. The second one you will leave because there are neds at it. Everyone you are scared of is a ned. The third park you will leave when the
and killing the toothache wildfire spark
in a tropical medicine.
This is you,
You set salads to sail
over for the Portuguese,
pressing buttons buzzing
new in our tongues,
you numbed tobacco
and cooled the thrashing stem
of the throat,
killing insects in citrus
what powers do you hold
in those rows of green?
you're far away from cress now.
Crocus CroakingThe petals
swam out into the air
like lilac canoes
and opened up the flower,
a hexagonal giftbox.
A trumpet of jonquil
blasted out pollenpunk
from the feathery-flame-flourish freckling
the nectar-sweet curves seducing
insectopia to rest on
the golden-heartstring-tower harping
its amber-orange-loud song,
the vocal chords from a white stalk
(the handle of a purple footed stamen-sticky lollipop)
croaking and croaking,
croaking and croaking from spring
for the bumblebees.
I want to say that you are one of the most energetic and amazingly erratic Deviants I've ever met here, along with a flair for imagery to boot. I remember meeting through your first DD, and you're still inspiring me since. You're fantastic and an astounding friend. Thank you.
Looking for loveI’d love to hold you close
for tonight and always
I’d love to wake up next to you
for the rest of my days
I’d love to see the way yours eyes light up
with each smile that crawls across your face
I’d love to know every fact about you
what makes you happy; what makes you blue
I'd love to be your soldier
the one you wait for to come home
I’d love to be the one
you share your dreams with
I’d love to be the star
you look to each time you make a wish
I’d love to love you
and to have you love me too
now and forever.
WolfBlood: I am an AlphaI am tired of settling.
I am tired of living life beaten down.
I am tired of being told that this is how life is going to be.
I am tired of being afraid.
So I am taking my position as leader.
I know who I am and whose I am.
I know what I believe and who I believe in.
I know who I’m fighting against and what I am fighting for.
Today I am making the decision to stop living like an outcast
And start living like an alpha
I refuse to settle.
I refuse to just “get by”.
I refuse to lay low, cower down,
and live my life in the background.
I am in this thing to win.
Mountains don’t scare me,
Valleys won’t stop me,
And my enemies won’t hinder me.
I will fight,
I will conquer.
I will not give up any ground that I have fought for.
I will not be pushed over, under, or backward.
I will stand my ground until I make progress.
I know times will get tough, but I will get tougher.
I know I might fall down, but I will get back up.
I know I might fail trying, but I will
On the road to Hell I stand,
Ready to battle,
as a man.
I sought out the evil here.
It shall find me,
Upon this road,
of fire and bone.
I walked this path alone,
Haunted by a face of sin,
I begin to doubt,
I shall ever win.
Tortured souls of dead men,
Howl in the darkness without end,
This is no place,
One should be.
Nowhere to run,
Nowhere to flee.
I will lock and load
I will stand ready
On this lonesome road
I will stand steady
Darkness lurks near
Driven by hate
I will die here,
If that be my fate
I will walk on,
Weapon in hand
I will walk for the dawn,
Over blood spattered sand
I will risk it all
The life of one at dawn
For the lives of many
I may fall,
But my spirit lives on.
This is my destiny,
To walk this road
The ending of my unknown legacy,
When my spirit ascends,
To gods humble abode....
Brandon, I do not regret meeting you at all, you are one of the most sweetest people I have met on Deviantart, and an even greater friend, and your poetry is amazing, most of it makes me cry, but I simply love it. I hope you continue to write your amazing poetry for many more years to come. You've got an amazing gift, and I think everyone should be able to see your work! I never used to like poetry that much, or reading for that matter, but your poems have truly inspired me, and they always keep me reeled in, and how you word them *kisses finger tips and opens hands, making kissing sound* It's magnificent! You even inspired me to do a little poetry myself, even though I'm not a poet, nor have I been, or even thought I'd do it, or be good at it. It's amazing how much someone or their art (no matter what kind it is) can influence your life or inspire you! With your piece, "Looking for love", I found it sweet, yet so simple, and it brought a smile to my face, and made me feel warm inside, even though I know I'm not her, it made me smile that you'd want to be with someone, and love them like that, it must be a great feeling, and I hope you find that one girl to hold, and to love. I could only imagine what it'd be like for you come home to someone who loved you, and missed you so greatly. In "Wolfblood: I am an alpha", I loved it, and it's still my favorite of your poems. I enjoy how you worded it, it made it sound like you would not bow, you wouldn't take shit from anyone, though I also sensed pain in your words, and it..Just, it amazes me. And last but not least, your poem,"Lonesome road"... It made me cry in all honesty, and I think it deserves a DD. And it left me without words, and still does... Your poems usually touch my heart, and make me cry, but they're so good, and it's like an addiction, one you can't break free from, and I'm always checking my inbox, hoping to see another, because I'm just so hooked. You deserve more recognition than you get.
Ta petite ange française pour te soutenir toujours!
Merci, ma chère Vano, d'être une telle bonne amie. Merci de me faire rire, de me donner confiance, de m'avoir montré ce que signifie l'amitié, d'être toujours là pour moi. Merci d'être toi. Je t'aime, mon petit ange! <3
ou changed my life starting with one image and every day you change it more with everything you do from the littlest things to the most phenomenal. I am truly blessed. I love you boo Would you come to Prom with me?
This Pagan Man's Plight
Why must I abide with this forced conversion?
Why should I have to change how my family and I live?
When was my faith in the Gods suddenly an unholy perversion?
To whom, my devotion and offerings, should I instead give?
You say that your almighty God is just and kind,
And you also say that his love is beyond beautiful.
But all I see you do is push his teachings upon my mind,
As if my faith in him and his son should already be unconditional.
Why should I change, for what is your righteous reason?
Or is there none to be found but a blade at my throat?
Or maybe, for not abiding, you can charge me with high treason.
Perhaps you could burn my home down, and deprive me of far more than my filthy coat.
As witness to MY Gods, I refuse to humbly kneel,
For your stones and swords will not sway my heart tonight.
And once you've decided my fate, and those tortures I feel,
Thus will abruptly end this Pagan man's plight.
And I would like to tell him that he's one of the sweetest people I know. He's very special to me, and I'm happy that I've gotten to know him as well as I have <3 Also, I miss our ladders
My dearest frog, I am sure you are aware of how much I love you and care about you, but just in case you forgot, I LOVE YOU May we forever have good times ahead, full of joy, happiness, and godiva!
Some men yearn to clasp
The edges of stars by their fingertips
To at least hold onto the debris,
That creates golden iotas
In midnight oceans;
And whispers of olden tales,
Singing of a microscopic sphere,
That twinkles within the vastness of emptiness.
But I yearn to hold wind in a jar,
Capture the oxygen
And never let go of its essence.
Carry it with me.
Take it to a place only she and I know of,
And cradle the edge of her hand,
Into the wrinkles and crevices
Of my solemn grip.
I’m not big, nor very strong,
And I don’t have the power
That could protect you,
From all of the injustices
That could befall you—
But what I do have,
Are my hands to hold yours,
To feel the warmth of my palm,
Meld into your grasp.
A body to shield you from the
Debris of falling dust,
And descending storm.
That can cushion gusts,
And quell hurr
Where I'm From (Phoenix/Pheasant/Pigeon/Raven)Where I’m From (Phoenix/Pheasant/Pigeon/Raven)
Where I’m from,
Is a place folks from South Texas know of,
But most others would mistake for the slums.
But that’s only because it’s all one in the same
To those who are out of their lanes.
Born in the Cliff of the Oak,
I was created on the edge of a tree,
More proof I was a pigeon from inception.
Livin’ near strays that weren't dogs let off their leash--
Born under a monarchy that only had a queen
With a p(h)easant,
That took 11 years to finally reign as king.
My daddy was always there for me, sure,
But not always here.
We were stability lined with suspicion,
Which explains why my paranoia
Is always lined on the edge of my lips,
And fingertips. My eyelids may be half-lidded,
But my irises are always glued on true intentions.
Or maybe it was the constant ear infections,
‘Cause if my eyes weren’t peeled, I couldn’t see,
What I’d barely be able to hear.
You are my heart and soul, my love and my future husband. I cannot imagine my life without you by my side, and I hope that never has to come to be. My heart is in your chest and I do my best to protect your heart in my chest. You make me laugh when I want to cry, and when it makes my stomach hurt, but I wouldn't want to wake up next to anyone else.
All my love forever and ever AAAHHHHMEN,
Your Lovely Lady
The NecklaceCliché Hallmark cards
Always start the waterworks.
Even at crowded restaurants.
To know.... it's a piece,
Of my Mommy Jean
Shaking, beaming, crying
As that slim white gold clasp
click... for the first time.
A feather's weight
Instantly at home on my collarbone.
Slit-eyes red and swollen
That pendant-spot between my breasts
Scratched and red
From shaking hands,
Grasping for anything to ground me.
Tremblingly closing that slim white gold clasp
click echoing with tears
Heaving my duffel up my steps
And down the hallway,
To my last door on the right
Dropping it and a gasp
Hands immediately undoing
the circular clasp at my neck
Frantically grabbing the chain on my dresser
Breathing slowing as the heavier chain,
But lighter pendant comes to a rest
click and my breathing becomes regular
Sighing as I flop into bed. Home.
Look At YouYou are handsome
So sweet and caring....
Gah I just don't know what to do.
I want to reach through my screen,
Just to touch you.
I want to be able
To put some of what I'm feeling...
Into some physical action.
I want to show you
And my love for you's the same.
Internet SisterhoodYou've quickly become so important to me.
Sharing the parts of our souls
We keep locked away, from the world
Actually- the known world.
Taking solace in strangers
Because then it's different.
They're automatically supportive,
Without needing to know details.
Unless we decide to share.
I feel a special bond with you
Just sharing this one little thing,
You seem to just.... relax around me
No words need spoken.
But I sense your wall is down.
And I'm so thankful we found each other.
Thank G-d for old French hypochondriacs.
WeirdAndLovely, you are such a creative and beautiful mind, love. I admire your amazing poetry and you have gotten better and better with each piece. I love you so much and don't you ever dare stop writing or there's gonna be some serious consequences, m'lady. To my best friend, my girlfriend, my love, you are incredible. Inside and out.
:thumb449577090: :thumb450139167: :thumb449293036:
And I want him to know that I'm so proud of how much he improves every time I watch his streams.
Kerrts you are like the best person ever and I love everything about ya! You were like the first person to actually watch me and I am so thankful for the friendship that we share with each other! Now that I think about it we haven't actually known each other for that long but every moment we spend together is quite special to me! Agggh I'm so sappy bleehh. Anyways, you'll always be my #1 watcher, Love ya!!! X3
Pyonni, you are such an awesome and amazing person, artist, friend, chicken, and other random stuff! You really mean a lot to me! <3
Love Is Not A MetaphorBirds do not care if you are broken.
They are just birds, occupied with the business
of survival. The wind that carries them
does not care if you wish to be weightless,
cradled in arms it does not possess.
The ocean it greets does not care if your tears
would push its boundaries up continents
to meet mountain tops that would no more
fashion themselves into soft beds
for your beaten spirit than learn Latin
to remind you that love is no metaphor
& you will lose it by thinking thus.
Lili, you are that final, critical poem in the fog. The poem that made me accept myself as a writer. The poem
I have always been trying to become able to find since. The only one worth chasing. The singular entity that
has made me slightly more brave during my painstaking crawl to become a man worth being loved by you.
Old Men Raising Old Men.In my family, old men raise old men;
Chippy Irish sprouts who would hug a
Mountain lion before their own dad,
And punch a flower just for wilting
In their direction.
Once my father tried,
And I bit his toes with my heel;
I was relieved to be thrown away.
But that's how it is for boys born
On a leap year, and those who come
Home to their mom coddling a knife
Where you once buried your face.
Here's hoping the night makes you mad,
and the guilt doesn't haunt you for long;
Your first mask will be cruelty.
The moonshine in the fridge will help
Kill and peel the skin; you need to
Hide the bruises, and learn to execute
A proper jab, nothing more.
Maybe you'll cry your first tear while
Your son is by your side for the last time;
Maybe he will raise a boy.
Somewhere Between Seattle...Once, I caught one hundred minnows,
Stooped at the edge of Texas waters;
A fool believes a child's hand,
They swim to it eagerly,
But the night told me a story of
War, and I wanted to see its face.
I killed one hundred minnows, and
Earned a fifty from my aunt;
My first war ended in their stomachs,
But I was no longer hungry.
Countless city lights blinked "hello",
Their war hero traveling in a green van,
Somewhere between Seattle and home, trying
To bury himself in an old, yellow couch.
How dirty the night had made these urban
Sprawls; he too was a grimy little bulb,
And so he blinked back at them. Soon the
Marching trees cut him off from his friends.
Fifty dollars could not buy him sleep, and neither
A rescue, but he keeps blinking from that couch,
In the dark of his father's green van, somewhere
Between Seattle and home.
Kneeling Glorydoesn’t matter anymore. There are two
Possible explanations for why this happened.
You were a traveling light from a kneeling morning -
Your fingers struck me, and a new man answered, rising,
Together setting out.
You were the hope of an answer,
Spirit painted in a tall mirror,
Lonely, waiting for my prayer,
Waiting to make me forgive myself
And, laughing, kiss you through
The glass, hoping that by some magic
To make it tremble and break
Deadly joy, not trembling, exploding,
A mist of wings scented and barbed
With what was dead, inhaled as a fever
And, afraid of the begging softness, afraid
Of their influence, I lowered the lights,
Rolled you into the shadows, until I learned
How to celebrate beauty.
Or, it was that cold Lacey sidewalk
Yelling, striking a familiar drum beat
In my chest, when the right man answered.
She is the kneeling glory, rising
With me in the dark of every personal
Morning, kneeling at my side again
Every night I dim the color of my body
And slip si
So much of me was impossible before you. Thank you for being the man who wanted to find all the nooks and crannies in this lumbering body and labyrinthine mind. I will never stop looking for ways to love you as thoroughly as you have loved me.
You're super swagtastic uvu <3
Well, Articus you're awesome (although you already know that), and I am honestly really glad I decided to comment on that one random forum post haha. You're a great friend, it's weird to think how things would be different if we weren't friends. I mean for one as you pointed out, we wouldn't be talking, but you know what I mean. Okay enough rambling I'm done lol.
Love ya, sis
Let's have some fun, baeee.
That Dark NightI can't remember much of that night.
Try and try as I might,
Only bits a pieces in sight.
An animal lay before me, dead.
It was covered in blood from, tail to head.
I see my hands in front of me, tainted red.
I remember wishing to stop,
But looking at the horrible slop,
I got a feeling nothing could top.
Overwhelming pride abuzz,
With no explanation why this was.
And then, I figured out the cause.
It came to me blunt
as I said with a grunt,
"It's the thrill of the hunt."
I don't remember much of that night.
That dreary, full-moon night.
But there is one thing I remember without a fight,
I am a werewolf. Part man, part beast.
And that animal that was deceased,
I had killed to have a feast.
What it was, I do not know.
It's all so fuzzy, in the moonlight glow,
And just as surreal as a horror show.
Piece by piece, bit by bit,
It became impossible to quit.
I will not stop 'till I remember more about it.
Try and try, I know I can,
And then... remembering began.
It was not an animal, but a ma
I'll pose for you sometime. Just let me know. xoxo
Are you surprised by my choices? LLAP. 831
Guiding lightI could sit here my entire life,
typing little rhymes to you.
Trivial comparisons of who I see you to be,
how you've changed me,
how much I love you.
I could sit here forever trying to pick the best way to tell the truth,
because at heart I'm really an honest person.
Telling you how you are the embodiment of laughter to me,
How I can look forward to each day now, because I'm not alone.
When I realized you remind me of sunshine after rain, I knew I loved you.
But nothing I can ever say would be good enough.
Simple black and white across a screen, it has no depth.
You are so much more than words across a screen,
the way that a tree is so much more than paper.
You are the stars of my night.
And like a sailor at sea without a compass,
I would be lost without you.
Of wolves.Wolves by nature are loyal
this I do not doubt in you.
But wolves are not all that know loyalty,
and wolves know much more than just that.
Wolves, they know of pain,
and cry of it under the moon.
I have never heard your lament,
and I have never heard your grief.
Tell me, do you hide from me? Or does nothing lie beneath?
Wolves live and grow in packs,
social creatures fighting and playing,
curious and clever, always investigating something new.
Yet your experiences are so limited,
and you do not seek to go beyond what you know.
Safe content to the place you call home.
Wolves are fierce and passionate,
intense in all they do,
as a hunter intent on prey,
unaware of the passage of time.
Do you know of harsh fierceness?
Do you understand of passionate love?
It is like a fire, and it does burn in me.
If you stray unaware of the flames,
you will only be burned.
Are you a pup, stumbling on too big paws?
Or do you howl like a wolf?
SlipstreamIt's a dizzying way that my mind pulls apart,
usually so neat and orderly, logical and calm.
like exposing a flower to a hurricane,
all I have about people,
everything I've proven you defy.
Life pulls me one way, but you hold me still.
Breathless and hopeless and misunderstood .
I turn to go right
but than you're leading me left.
It's crazy and unbalanced and dangerous and free,
but it's the most reliable thing I've ever known.
I've been caught in your slipstream, just so.
Laughing when I ought to cry,
smiling when it's wrong but I just don't care.
Who really cares if we do this upside down,
out of order, backwards, it's just like us.
Nothing I say or do
can truly express how I feel about you,
but the closest thing to
is I love you.
(Yeah, I know it's cheesy, but I'm not as good of a poet as you. Still though, love you )
:thumb435712188: :thumb451235877: :thumb439028194:
Whew, I had a bit of a difficult time narrowing down the list of my favorite things from your gallery, I realized that what I really adore is the wonderful person behind the art. With your strong, generous and sincere soul, you had an impact on me I can't really explain. Everytime we talk I feel like I'm remembering something of you rather than learning, this is what they say about soulmates and now I'm allowed to believe it. I hope our friendship will keep growing stronger and stronger through the years...call me silly but at this point I can't even begin to imagine my existence without you. Happy Birthday, Catherine, you're beautiful in every possible way…now go grab life by the horns, I'll be always by your side! I love you madly, irrationally, infinitely.
AtlasWeight of the world
take my hand now
too much time
on this route
for lonely ears.
out of a kindness thread.
Too heavy a burden
on your shoulders,
around the corner;
take my hand,
we can share
the weight of a dancing sun
make it light, make it hope.
of wars and sorrow,
dispense healing water
from springs of neverending
on our heads
tree of life
will set its roots,
of a feather
alone no more
across the empty skies.
when the moon
take my hand,
Write it simple, write it true
I met myself today,
in the eyes of a newborn morning
in the sound of pouring rain;
I was happiness and ignorance
I was innocence and love.
Irides of changing leaves
a grin that could make you laugh;
this was all before the first bite
the one that, as they say,
makes you shy twice.
I've buried alive
the muscle in my chest
under shovels of despair,
my eyes are now so darker
and seldom my always smile.
I walk with death a little
since we became best friends,
no wonder then
if my favorite color
is also my constant mood.
around my senses,
emotion bottled till they burst,
imploding in the night,
black holes of insecurities.
I've been called a ghost, a cat,
for my pace is mild,
my claws concealed;
too afraid of losing control
I must learn to let things go.
ContrastBlaze flickering in the wind,
battle of a small fire
against the coldness of the night.
I look at the starless sky
and the moon drowning
in the indigo waves.
Harmony of contrasts,
darkness and light
as the soul in your eyes
where night and day
I listen to the roaring sea
stroking the silence,
I know how beautiful
your smile is
because I've seen
The amount in which I love you is immense.
I’m not quite sure human language can describe it properly so I’m not really going to try.
I love you, forever and always, you are an amazing soul and I hope I can know you for a very long time.
Your style of art is both surreal and achingly true in it's emotion. No matter what you may give up on in life, never give up on art.
Abandoned by Disney: God's Light is Gone HereDon’t worry, you’ll only feel a slight pinch. This’ll help you stop crying.
Photo negative, positive I must be dreaming
Every dream I have, I fall into screaming
What am I, why am I left here to bleed?
I will grow big and strong like a wicked seed
What is-…it’s not responding! Give it the mixture!
Horrid truths of my existence haunt them
My daddy and mommy bred in tubes and pens
Experimenting to make an old life new again
Who knows how I awoke or when?
Quarantine is in effect, the project has been terminated. All research has been suspended. I repeat-
Beneath the tangled mass of concrete and steel
In this, my home where I don’t see or feel
Dead man walking, the living don’t breathe
I want to go away but they won’t let me leave
Powerless (Part 1)Powerless (Part 1)
Whistling to the monotone
This bitterness I call my own
Bitter, bitter, I can’t speak
Disgusted, raging, make me weak
I was found, now I’m lost
I pay your price, but not the cost
Erasing every truth I’ve spoken
Every sleeping sin awoken
I am damned for their mistakes
They try my patience to watch it break
I will die hated by my kin
So rip the ground open and throw me in
Lies spoken so much they become true
What did I ever do to you?
Hell I don’t fear, their hate draws near
They silence me, my words made unclear
They make me take back every word
I live alone and die by the sword
Please just stop it, I’m begging you
I’ve tried following orders, what else can I do?
Creepypasta: ParasiticCrepypasta: Parasitic
Have you ever tasted human blood or flesh? Of course you have, even if you didn’t really think much of it at the time. Maybe you just bit your lip and inadvertently swallowed, even if you’re not a full-fledged professional cannibal like me. But you see, already I can tell you’re not too different from me because of that. I assume you know your name, but me? My name is Eyeless Jack, and I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.
When was the first time you realized you were a parasite? No, don’t give me that look. Your hands are tied at the moment, if you’ll excuse the pun, so you’re really in no position to view me with contempt. And it’s just the two of us, in this big, quiet house. The rest of your family? Just tell yourself that everyone else is taking a rest, a nice long rest. I have a friend who’d make a bad joke about “going to sleep” right about now, which is one of the reasons I prefer to m
I've only had the privilege of meeting your recently; your words are raw, and sincere, and leaves me speechless (and sometimes, just a little bit scared... ) There is as much beauty in it, as pain. I've always held the belief that it takes an exceptional person to turn something ugly, like pain, into a work of art. Please, don't ever stop writing.
My poemsMy poems are bridges
That have started to connect
The inside and outside
My poems do not run
High above the valleys where me hides
Or far below the mountain tops where i shine
But from one to the other
So that words can travel between the two
And become Truths
Construction is going slow
But hopefully soon
i and my poems
Will be Complete.
You're a great artist with many talents, I enjoy your literature and digital drawings! Good luck and I hope that your work will be more widely appreciated!
The Fallen Fruit of the TreeDecisions. Decisions made, wise it may be, foolish it may be. Change whirled. Change needed? That was another world of debate.
Decisions. Decisions made in life. Decisions to seek life. Decisions to seek yourself, understand yourself, in order to live life.
It was confusing. Not knowing what you wanted. What would make you full with satisfaction? What would make you giddy with joy? What would make silent tears drip unseen?
Would it be too selfish of me, to indulge in my sense of loss?
Life flashes, like illusions, a blink of an eye. Young dreams, dreams of passion, of great deeds, of great fame, of great power, life’s temptations were countless.
With no doubt, reality is confronting. One can only be content with what is given.
Or did we have the decision, to face, to strive, to seek?
Why did it seem, I sought, but yielded nothing? Looking in the wrong place? Was it me, that didn’t seek with enough effort?
Had I complained, was this some kind of punishment?
Upon time, it see
taking Pity on godsometimes I wonder
if God wore regret as his Shadow
when his creation
walks with Sin
this is our Punishment
yet it was his Failure
sometimes I wonder
if God has his gravestone etched with Betrayal
when his creation
lays with Temptation
this is our Weak will
yet Strength trickled from his fountain
sometimes I wonder
if God's step falters
when his generations
fades into forgotten legacies
yet his Scars are kindled and rekindled
from charred ashes of lost Faith
Hey! I'm glad that we got matched together, I've really enjoyed talking to you. I hope that I haven't been a bother with all of my questions >.<
After a little looking, you seem to be a very nice and fun individual! Your art looks great, and I really like your traditional drawings. The lines are really good! I'm glad to have you for the prom.
Your artwork is a wonderful reminder that even a masterpiece begins with a single stroke. How wonderful it is that an artist like you, who is unafraid of letting your strokes and lines be seen, can make more beautiful, realistic art than some of those who strive to be seamless!
Angel, you are a wonderful friend whom I admire and love in so many ways. You are incredibly kindhearted; sweet, caring, and considerate. You are always friendly and happy. But it isn't just kindness that makes you an extraordinary friend. You are extremely humble and giving, thanking me constantly and never bragging. I always enjoy talking to you because of how fun, intelligent, and delightful you are.
I love your creativity, your great writing and role playing skills, and your phenomenal artwork as well. We have so many common interests, and I had already thought you were magnificent, but even recently I discovered another common interest we have.
I will never tire of your marvelous personality. I am very thankful to have met you and to be your friend. I hope your life is filled with joy and only goodness.
Sucked In A BookThe magic of the story, to me it has called
Throughout the night I keep reading
It has me enthralled
As the house grows quiet, out of the covers I have crawled
With love I keep turning the pages
The magic of the story, to me it has called
In the middle of the night, on the bed I am sprawled
The light is now on and I keep reading
It has me enthralled
With twists and turns, I am sometimes appalled
No matter what comes, I keep going
The magic of the story, to me is has called
It is two in the morning and I have recalled
I am in need of sleep, but I still go on
It has me enthralled
My eyes wide open, my mind wide awake
I keep on reading, whatever it takes
The magic of the story, to me it has called
It has me enthralled
The Land Over The RainbowShe rolled onto her bed, letting the tears fall down slowly. She cried and cried, pitying herself. She wished of a better world. She wished of entering that wonderful land over the rainbow. That land everyone dreams of, where dreams come true. Where there is always happiness and pleasure, where everything is perfect. She thought of this every time she cried, every time she was bullied, which was every day. And every day it made her smile to dream of her land over the rainbow. The land of fairy tales and fantasy and perfectness.
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“Tehila, darling, it's dinner time,” her mother called from downstairs. Tehila slowly lifted herself off the bed and went into the dining room. Her mother's cooking always cheered her up and mealtimes made her happy. Dinner time was when she could talk to her mother and family about her day.
Tehila loved her family so much. Her mother always listen
Viva, I really have nothing to say to you, except that you're one of the best people around. You're always super kind, and do always take the time to be an incredible friend! One does not simply call you a mean person! I hope we'll remain friends even if we don't get to talk to each other as much (or maybe we'll talk a lot more than we do now, only fate can tell )
Hiya! It's always so great to discover new artists and meet new people. We already have so much in common, and we haven't even really met yet! We both like drawing, acting, singing, and Defying Gravity from Wicked. Keep on doing those awesome things, and don't let others get in the way of your goals. Defy Gravity!
So you love to be weird, eh? Good. It's fantastic to be weird and not care what others think. You continue to enjoy being weird - don't let others bother you!
I look forward to getting to know you some more.
Continue to Part II!
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