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lablespeople tell me
i'm an idiot
well is any of it a lie
do i have to live up to your expactations
should i have to deal with you
yes i'm different
but do you have to label me
do you have to juge me
do you have to stereotype me
why can't i be who i am
why can't i be me
who are you to tell me
NumbI feel so numb
I just wish for
To be real
To feel alive
All my life I've fealt dead
To feel that pain
As the razor slices across my wrist
The relif as air floods ito my suffocated lungs
The high as the needle pirces my skin
I need something
They say I'm sick
I need to get better
but they never noticed
The scars on my wrists
The bruses on my throte
The needle marks on my arm
It's their fault
And now It's much to late
I'm in to deep
I can't go back from here
They say they understand
But when they wher little
They never thought of
Plunging a knife into thir heart
They never wondered about
Holding a gun to thir head
They never felt this numb
They never felt the high
After pircing their arm with a neelde
And never will
Don't try to help me
It's to far to late
Worlds DividedJamie sat at the edge of her chair waiting as the clock ticked by. 'Only five more minutes,' she thought. Tick-Tock Tick-Tock. It was realy annoying waiting as the teacher just droaned on and on. Jamie tapped her pen on the desk to pass the very slow moving time. Tick-Tock. The teacher went n about the founding ov our nation and all kinds ov shit like that. Tick-Tock. Jamie gathered her books just in time for the bell to ring. She grabbed her books and rushed out of the room like the other twenty five students.
"I realy don't feel like going to my locker." She said to herself. Jamie pushed her way throught the hall way to the door, outside Sarah and Jessica where waiting on the steps for her. Jamie quickly stached her books in the bag she always wore arround her sholder. The bag had a gun splattered in blood printed on it. Sarah and j
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
A Week Of KissesA Week Of Kisses
The first day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your shoulder,
Well before I thought about your lips.
Because I don’t know what I am doing, firstly,
But more importantly,
It’s because I know things can spiral quickly,
If things start shifting
After we lay down the concrete.
So I kiss the foundation,
Before we reach the soil.
The second day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your elbow,
Because it holds together the touch
And the flex.
To exhibit it,
I must kiss the joint that bends
And combines us together.
The third day I told you I loved you,
I lay my lips to your temples,
As I learned about the temple of reform,
For the Youth in North America.
Kissing you there signifying I will protect you,
As well as your temple,
As we re-form, into something more.
The fourth day I told you I loved you,
I’d kiss you softly on your forehead.
Because that’s what holds your brillian
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More