|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Broken TrustTrust is something fragile
Once you break it
It is hard to get back again
Just like the softest rose petals
That withers and dies
Or the stem of that gentle rose
Once it snaps you can
Never get it back
You sit there and watch it
Then you look at that person
With jaded eyes
Looking at them
With the emptiness you feel inside
Knowing it will never be the same
Wondering if you truly knew
Them at all
Echoing SilenceEchoing Silence
Another set of feathers
Fall to the ground
I sit there and look
With a frown
Though not surprised
It happened again
Betrayal of the utmost
A very bitter pill
I swallow it whole
No emotions I show
Cool and calm
As I face eyes untold
I do not cry
I do not scream
What is the use
No one will hear
This echoing silence
Inside of me
My Second SkinMy Second Skin
Look deeply into my eyes
And you will see
The silent tears I don't shed
The pain lying deep within
Look past my smile
The laughter you hear
Beneath it is a layer
That echoes the pain
If you truly know me
You will see
Past the mask I where
You will know
What is inside of me.
Masks are real
mine is apart of me
I wear to stay safe
I wear it to stay sane
If it ever shatters
If it ever breaks
I'm not sure I'd make it
I would become undone
It is better this way
I honestly feel
No one really could handle
The real me they would see
Or maybe I am the one
who will not be able
to deal with the one
who would be revealed
I have worn my mask
For far too long
A safe haven for me
Saving me from harm
StayTattered clips of sunny smiles
strewn about throughout the aisles,
tipped and spilled to much dismay
those memories of yesterday.
Volunteered upon this path
oblivious to the aftermath,
the possibility it seemed
of failure was an absurd dream.
Torn from the ground we built upon
moonlight burned the summer song,
undermined the very heart
of the bedrock where we saw it start.
Winter caused the soul to say
an audible wish for a different day,
Without the strength to go away
it's come to this so here we stay.
Bullying: Another Life is StolenMaking others feel worthless is what you do best
Then you go and claim it was all a joke, a mere jest
But your words mean more than you comprehend
Your words can lose somebody their dearest friend
Your jokes have taken another young life away
Now the day is bleak and a cruel shade of grey
Know that to obtain your one little power trip
Your victim will feel as if they are being whipped
So the next time you feel the urge to tease or play
Be sure to always remember what happened this day
Your torment stole a family member and friend
And for the family, there will seem to be no end
Stop the bullying before another young life is stolen from us
Healing HugsLaying in the bed,
I listen to the moans.
The sound of the dying.
The shadows hide me,
So I can be alone.
Try to take care of myself.
To get myself back to my feet.
It's not a sickness,
or a wound,
But a blow to the heart.
The shattered hearts laying on the floor,
surrounded by the pieces of souls.
Tread on by the visitors,
Only caring about their own.
I watch the world go by,
As I lay here,
Frozen in time.
Ever since you broke my heart.
Waiting for Time to heal me,
But she passes by everyday.
Sometimes stabbing me along the way.
I cried out for help,
But most just went on their way.
Not wanting to see another cripple.
Hindered by his heart.
There are, however, a few,
Angels in disguise.
The healers of many and the breaker of few.
She helped me fix myself,
With a healing hug,
She patched together my life.
And sent me on my way.
With a promise to be waiting,
If I ever need a healing hug again.
Hidden LinesTorn apart and filled with lines,
Words unspoken are hatefully tried.
Burned at the bud,
Stop at the start.
Grievously misled from the beginning,
Broken and killed from the mere heeding.
Paper strewn across the floor,
The only love they've ever boor.
Here sit's a man in anger,
Lost is he in pain.
He tried to hide in the beginning,
Now all he is, is insane.
He wrote these hateful lines,
And just as they, he lies.
Never right, never perfect,
Always lost, forever hidden.
why can't i right one good poem?
DepressionAnother useless morning dawns,
Another tiresome creature yawns.
Lost I am in the depth of thought,
People can't see the battle I've fought.
My scars are hidden by a harden face,
No smile has been found, I have no grace.
I look upon the work I've done,
And find that it is helpful to all of none.
I hate the flesh I'm bound to,
The words I weave I do but rue.
Rueful and spiteful I wish to cry,
But no tears will help me on the inside.
Who will help me to live without pain?
Will anyone try to keep me sane?
Am I lost to the grave?
I would've been.I would've been a masterpiece if it wasn't for the tear,
I don't know why I tell you this, it's not like you care.
I would've been a legend if it wasn't for the time,
Age of heroes has come and gone, all I can do now is rhyme.
I would've made something of myself, if I'd had the motivation,
But now, I just lie in wait, awaiting even more degradation.
I could've been someone, or something, I know I could,
But right now, it's all talk, all "Could, should, would."
Then there's that "if" or that "but" getting in the way,
I could've been a masterpiece, but here I am, rotting away.
No one even gives me a second glance,
I'm not a famous one like Rembrandt's.
I could've been a masterpiece if it wasn't for the tear,
If only the people looking after me had taken more care,
I could've been perfect, and remembered forever,
But now I am just a portrait, of the Forgotten Reaper.
There is no place for me.There is no place for my ideals or me,
There is no place for justice or mercy.
There is no place for true love anymore,
It's a sad truth, it saddens me at the core.
There is no place for me in this world,
Where the cries of the needy must go unheard.
I'm cast out for my ideals, my gentleman's code,
Well, I was born like this, a man in hero mode.
There is no place for a hero in this world,
The knight in shining armour must go unheard.
There is no such thing as a Fairy Tale,
I am not Prince Charming, just another sail.
On a boat afloat on a sea of sadness,
The winds of mourning passing through me.
There is nowhere in this world for me...
There is nowhere in this world for gallantry.
Well Darn, There Goes My PlanFunny this life we live, there is so much more to see.
The heavens above, filled with no love,
The moon in the sky, larger then you or I.
Can't you see it, the size of it all?
We are ants infesting a house,
A flea eating a mouse.
Where will we be in a few hundred years?
Will we be in tiny boxes living useless fears?
Will we be in the ground, never to be found?
Will you be remembered, for who you use to be?
Perhaps by a few, but never truly by me,
For how am I to know, someone I've never seen?
Time has flown by, it's to late for you and me.
Why do you live, when time will soon blink,
and you will be gone, faster then you think?
Goodbye Donna NobleOh the things I have seen, they meant so much to me.
I've been to the stars in the sky, and lived in a place filled with time.
I saw the end of everything, and saved the world with tiny plea.
I was there when reality crashed, and ran away with a Time Lord, the last.
I became so much more, and my mother only told me I was a bore.
My grandfather always stayed by my side, and helped my friend when I had to die.
I had such adventures, and finely saw it all,
But when that happened, I had to fall.
Good bye Donna Noble
Just Another DayJust another Day
I try not to cry, though my eyes burn,
Fighting for air, as my chest tightens up,
Needing to scream, yet nothing comes out,
I ache inside, but I don't complain,
It's just another day, of my life,
So what is left to say?
Now I shall end this, morbid poem,
Crawling back into my shell,
And get my emotions under control,
I will look at you, once more with a smile,
So you won't see all that I hide inside,
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More