|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Until Death Parts UsThere are soft pink roses
the living room window.
They shudder and grow in the windblown rain,
stunted and neglected by
all save chance.
Stupid luck nourishes
the roses outside the window,
but who will come
for those within?
Shielded from chance, a boy cries
hoping for everything, but trying not to.
He reaches for a rose through the window
pulls it to himself
cradles it in his broken hands.
Maybe it will call in the rain.
A thorn bites his skin, and makeshift rain
drips from his hand to his scraped knee.
He smiles carefully,
and in spite of his attempts at hopelessness
he wishes silently
for his world to be thrown inside out.
the roses are withered and dead but she is alive
and she loves him back.
She is the rose;
she is light or love or something that feels precious
and she smiles
and he reaches for her
hoping that she is like the rain,
and she will free him.
Was it chance that brought her?
Or was it the wind?
Rain On UsSometimes,
I cry for the world.
And then the rain falls
into my ears and my nose and my heart
and I wonder why.
It whispers back to me,
because you live in it.
And it's sad and it's stupid
maybe it's not even right
but as the cynical rain washes over me,
I smile anyway,
I'm wrong after all
and the world is too beautiful for my tears.
Another Kind of WrongSomeone close to you once said,
there’s a kind of beauty in silence.
and anonymous masses said,
you’re too different
and different is wrong
someone said that they wanted to change you
somebody told you that you weren’t good enough for the world,
and you tried not to listen,
but you heard.
And I asked you
why are you pretending
that it doesn’t hurt?
and from far away, someone said,
You curl up inside me like a flower in my throat
let me do the talking,
let me live in your place.
The ice in my chest is burning
and you scrape the ceiling of my mind
asking at once
to be set free, but pleading
for me to never let go
and so I cling to you
cracked in a thousand places
sing away my voice
and you disguise your shivering with laughter
and I watch as you
melt through my fingers
in ten thousand ways
masked in ten thousand disguises
so that when you finally fall,
you’re already too broken for it to matter.
And the c
World-WatcherBlood on the sidewalk
mingles with his tears
and the source of the drip
dripping of lifeblood onto the street
because, I suppose,
we were all too afraid to look.
Turning heads fit smoothly into our turning world
as they turn, turn,
turn to look at his blood
his lifeblood on the street
and his tears will dry soon
and he will stop
and we will stop
not for long.
And the source of the drip
dripping will return
silent and brooding and silent
and they will be afraid
afraid to look
but their heads still turn
and I want to move him
to move you
but we are both still
and turning heads find the
two teenagers on the sidewalk
spilling onto the street
side by side
hand in hand
these were the forgotten
the suicidal teenagers
that nobody caught,
because we were all
InvisibleHello, do you remember me?
Do you need some reminders?
I am the face in the crowd,
The one nobody notices,
The one who you never hear speaking
Because you never listen.
Do you remember me now?
Do you remember all the times I stood up for you,
All the times you brushed me off?
Do you remember?
I am the one who listens to you when no one else is willing.
I am that one person whose name you always forget,
Whose homework you can cheat from,
I am the one who will always remember you.
Whenever I saw you in the hallways, I would smile and wave.
Sometimes you would wave back,
More often you wouldn’t notice
You would walk on with the group of people you chose to call friends
While I sat back down in the back corner of the room
Waiting silently for class to start.
I remember you.
To Make a DifferenceThe roads are paved with soot
and the buildings laced with suspicion
and as ash crumbles beneath my feet,
a dead man whispers
something about change
and I whisper in return that I’m sorry
but I have none
none that I can spare, anyway
and the sky is seasoned with despair
because we will not change
there is no change
none to spare, anyway
and outer voices cry out
and the weak die
and the hopeless scream
and the strong reach out and build
but never change.
We are the remains of a fire that died out long ago
the remnants of what could have been great
and we grew and we grew
and we forgot
what it was that we were searching for
and the voiceless and the pathetic and the weak
everyone who can see
who has seen
something about change,
spare some change
because they have none.
And cars sweep up soot
and steam pours into the despairing sky
and the strong live
and the rest die,
and humanity goes home and prays to its imagined savior
Identity ThiefWhy would anybody want
to care about me?
I grew up loved by obligation
not by choice
and it shows when you don't mean it
but I understand, because why
would they ever want to care about
stupid and dim and silent and sad and vague
and not very good at anything that matters.
I wish I could scrape my fingertips across shards
of broken glass
to scrub away all my fingerprints.
Everyone who sees me, then, will look
and I will be different
For those people, though,
the two of them,
they each get some of my fingerprints
so that they can hold them however they like
and believe that it's me they're controlling
even though I'm somewhere else entirely
pressing broken fingers to broken paper
so as to carve onto the white space
my very own fingerprint.
Why would anybody care about me?
Why would anybody want to?
Me, without a face, without a tongue
I am my ears
and I hear you
and I heard you
but I have hands, too,
and a voice
and probably a heart as well;
PracticeLet me practice dreaming
lest I forget how.
Let me practice loving you
lest you forget I’m here.
Let me practice speaking
and screaming your name
lest you forget the sound of my voice;
then together we practice wordplay and gunshots
and resistance and politics
and bloodshed and violence
and the hate crimes that all sound just a bit too familiar -
we practice those
lest we forget the world.
But we don’t really need practice for the inescapable, do we?
Truthfully, instead of living with reality,
I’d rather dream;
but if I sleep forever,
the world will spin on without me
carrying you with it
so I keep up
and I learn
and I take in the world around me
and I do everything I’m supposed to do.
But every night,
I go home
and I dream.
DreamsWhen I was young,
I was so immersed in my perfect world
that every time I fell and hurt myself,
I bled dreams.
Back when 'stupid' was a bad word
and love was an unbreakable smile,
the wind had a voice and the flowers whispered to me
speaking fondly of the seeds that would grow into their children.
Back then, I was always singing,
and I sang of trivial things like sunshine and ice cream
and everything that I loved -
everything my world was made of.
A few years ago, though, I fell particularly hard
and all my dreams
spilled out of my knees onto the pavement.
now that soft words and wishes
appear grey and dull and meaningless
in the eyes of the world,
I fear that all our dreams
have been pumped full of red.
How to be Populardon’t talk
go to parties
listen to friends
go with the flow
drink some more
don’t let them see the tears
as you cry yourself to sleep
for the most important thing
is to be popular
Panic attackIt hits me like a wave,
These thoughts of fear and regret.
They swarm all around me,
Trapping me inside my own head.
Pretty soon, I am suffocating,
Please someone save me!
My heart beat races,
As does the thoughts that pick up the pace.
Of sending me memories I've kept and buried so long inside.
They've come back to haunt me tonight.
And as soon as it came,
It was gone,
Leaving me here.
And what was left of me,
The sound of silenceThe sound of silence,
Is so deafening,
That it makes my ears ring,
With the cacophony of my own insanity.
Being afraid to speakThe unpleasantries of past events
Were driven by the voices of contempt
Leaving me breathless
To that effect, I was left senseless
And when I laid under the covers
As I tried to warm myself from the cold stares
I shiver, as my skin turned white
By the solace of silence
But, as I overcame their sadness
I learned to embrace the cold
Until I was able to give warmth to others
Ideationlocked in a room
with only one escape,
or so it seems.
your hands shake and you drop the key.
Suddenly you're unsure.
Do I want to pick it up?
Do I want to find it?
Do I want to leave?
you think to yourself
there's no other choice.
find the key or corrode, or rust
wear down the hinge
use sadness as the key.
You have the answer now.
Just open the door.
Just walk outside and don't look back.
Let yourself leave with no regrets.
And yet you can't.
You're afraid, you think,
but you are actually strong.
Don't run away.
Don't take that leap.
DNAyou are content
because every day
you have the opportunity to
hug both sets of your DNA.
however, i am not content.
half of me is missing
and the other half
is hardly ever here.
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
Permanent PretendWe live in a world of bedbugs and frostbite
of smiles and tears;
we live in a world where we blink into the sky and pretend to laugh
because the people around us pretend to do the same
and children have the best imaginations
they never have to pretend to be real.
Obligatory bedbugs bite into
as we pretend to believe in the
that we're accustomed to.
Yet smiles blend with salt water
as we cry over spilled milk
spilling from sockets in patterns that we wish
we could control.
In the end, none of it matters;
we dissolve slowly into ourselves
as the world forgets us.
But as we look into the end of the sky
we still find ourselves wishing and wondering
what it would be like
if we could breathe the clouds...
And I suppose
Obligations surround us and
the atmosphere battles our being,
and we pretend and pretend and pretend that the world is nothing,
yet somehow most of us live on in love
with our own dreams.
Still, as bed
Keep in Touch!
Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More