[x]

Cutter 'what are you scared of?'

she was too pale to be held against the sun: so she leans against it until you can't see her face.

her eyes were chalk-smudges on blackboards, blurred against a backdrop of white-washed walls. her outline was all fade-out and lace, as white as winter could be.

her words were quiet like stains are, clinging to a curtain in the window. just trying to blend into the pattern, or at least not become part of it.

and when she breathes her chest swells with see-through lungs--hoping that if you focus, you'll see right through her glass skin. after all, she's just a smudge of the wrong varnish in your eyes.

she shudders

FifteenThe blushing crows
Land on my clothes.
They tease my ears
With regrets and fears.

So I suppose
This is how my life goes.

Purples, blues, greens, yellows…
It's something that I never chose.

My eyes squeeze shut.
Another cut.

I mend and stitch
The holes and splits–
The ones I etched
And the ones you stretched.

Six hundred pounds of flesh
Resting upon my chest.
It's harder to catch my breath.
I hope this is not my death.

The worms withdraw
While the vultures claw
And begin to gnaw
At my limbs of straw

My skin bursts open
To release words unspoken.

Down the street
Tires scream
Headlights creep.
A young teen

He Smiles Without A Mouth

He always watches, but he has no eyes.

He laughs behind you, but he cannot speak.

He follows you everywhere you go, but he does not walk.

He always smiles, but he has no mouth.

He stands a great height, but he is given no advantage.

He is in the back yard, but he does not announce himself.

He is known as the slender man, but he has no name.

The Intelligent Are So SadA cascade of words parade around,
with thoughts of atoms and connotation.
She is brilliant, they say,
but she knows she is lost.

Numbers are her companion,
she understands their mean, average.
Words can twist her brain,
she loves the wonder they bring.

She is intelligent, they say,
but sometimes,
she doesn't feel clever enough.
Sometimes she feels clever too much.

Excusez-moi, in perfect French,
but nothing is gained by perfect word tense.
She is clever, they say.
But she is not clever the way they know.

She sees things as they are,
and she prefers her thoughts to the world.
She knows she loves them more than they in return

Don't Talk To Me    "I'm sorry," I said, and meant it.

    She nodded, her expression unfathomable. "Me too."

    There was a long pause.

    "Just two days ago," I said quietly, avoiding her eyes, "we couldn't even be in the same room without going for each other's throats."

    She turned away. "Yeah," she admitted. "But look at us now."

    I continued, "And just two months ago we were the best of friends. But look at us now." This time I looked directly at her, smiling mirthlessly.

    "But look at us now," she

Through a gap in the fenceThrough a gap in the fence
they saw each other.

Drawings on the walls
for messages of love.

Images don't matter anymore
as words are the only thing
that can travel
through that gap in the fence.

Whispers of love
and no one else cares.

Still they have not seen each other
through the small gap in the fence,

But of course
all good things must end.

The gap was closed
and their love was lost.

As time erases
their love was lost
and the lovers who met
through a gap in the fence
never got to whisper
their sweet nothings to each other
through a gap in the fence again.

Your Life's A StageLife is comparable to a book
Which would make today a page
Don't dream of the drama unfolding
Act it out upon the stage

If the stage is your lonely room
And the theatre is your home
Then why not be the protagonist
Heroes never die alone

If you are treading those boards tonight
Then be careful how you go
Show the world and open your mind
To learn things that remain unknown

And if you are the director
Make sure the cast know their lines
If their actions stray away from the plot
Then cast them out of your life

If you are seeking attention
Awaiting ovation from the stalls
Be sure to do something worthy
Before the last curtain

Writers BlockThere is a heart in a ribcage
And a brain sitting in a skull
There is a history that is void
And potential which is null

Just puddles of inspiration
Where the vast ocean once sprayed
An endless tide of moonshine
Swelled upon my parchment page

There's a brain sitting in a skull
There is a heart in a ribcage
There is ink in my fountain pen
But still no words on my page

Just embers of inspiration
Where a great fire once roared
I'll stoke it with those memories
I've been afraid of and ignored

Sometimes I Lose ThingsSometimes I lose things.

Sometimes it's little things.

Things like my ipod or my keys.

Bobby pins and chapsticks often evanesce without warning or cause.

Sometimes I lose bigger things.

Things like my favorite sweater or my school bag.

Things like the reason I came into a room,

Or the memories of what I had for breakfast that morning.

Sometimes I lose my train of thought, or the point I was trying to make or an idea.

Sometimes I lose arguments.

Sometimes I lose friends.

I like to think all the things I lose go to the same place.

A plain white place full of hair ties and dollar store bracelets,

And I like to think they all wait th

Allieat the age of one, allie martin
was diagnosed with leukemia.
by three, her parents were carrying around a hairless baby,
and dreading each x they marked the calendar with.

but this is not a cancer story,
because by the age of four, she was cured
and she doesn't know why,
but she doesn't concern herself with the why.

allie martin is the best cheerleader i know,
just because she seems so happy to be up there
trying to make everyone else happy.
see, when she was in the hospital, her parents said,
she was the happiest patient there.

"alison martin?"
"it's allie, and i am here."
if there is one thing i cannot say about allie,
it is

a dying heartI just wanted to tell you that I never meant what I said I never thought
That you were gonna be upset
Now I m regretting it
Now I get the meaning of the bitterness after those sweet times with you
I know that I can't get rid of it by candies because you are the only sweets that I need
I can't stop thinking of you
Sadness and darkness took over my heart
And my heart can't stop crying and bleeding while longing for you
I wish that my feelings can reach you
The feelings of someone who is agonizing
And calling for you.

Suicide On Your LipsI tried so hard to pull away
At the end of the night when we kissed
But as you begged me once again to stay
I could taste suicide on your lips

And such an intoxicating fragrance
Far removed from the stench of death
Such a beautiful perfume of life
Of a lost girl hollow from neglect

Am I too late to save her my Lord
Will those lips ever smile again
When razorblade remedies are scarring
Her beautiful porcelain skin

You spoke of your sorrows till midnight
Then you slept in my arms until dawn
Awoke and cried tears until midday
For your past and your present you mourned

And when the last tear finally fell
I explained I'd never lea

Society Is Ugly.Society is ugly.
Not you.

Beauty is defined by
How you act.
Not by the number on the
Scale.

Starving doesn't work.
Purging doesn't work.
Pills don't work.

The girl you see
In the mirror is
Perfect
Just the way she is
Now.

Don't get upset because
You don't match up
To the media's
Expectations.

Cutting won't work.
Crying won't work.
Dying won't work.

Remember this:
Society is ugly.
Not you.

They Watch UsThey Watch Us:

Perched high upon the mountains;
With wings as black as night.
They watch us in the hour,
Before darkness turns to light.

I've seen them in my visions;
In dreams they come and go,
But the things they seem to tell me
I guess nobody should know...

I've seen children that are buried,
Beneath a frozen lake.
A maiden sits there weeping;
Her heart is soon to break.

The crows flutter downward,
A noose amongst their hands.
They take the maiden away,
To a dark and distant land.

And even if I follow -
Even if I try...
I'll simply end up buried,
Where the frozen children lie.

-Chen Yuan Wen, 10th November 2012

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Submitted: October 7, 2012
Submitted with: Sta.sh Writer

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monster

by !FRAUSTRIA231, Oct 7, 2012, 9:18:50 AM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

i hide my face

behind my hair

so people won't see

my ugly face

and get scared

i'm a monster

so please don't stare

monsterby !FRAUSTRIA231

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

©2012-2013 !FRAUSTRIA231

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~lizzallen Oct 10, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

This is a lovely poem, I love how its short and sweet and to the point (okay maybe not so much sweet X3) I honestly don't see other peoples problems with it, they're all trying to read between the lines rather than what's in front of them.

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!FRAUSTRIA231 Oct 10, 2012 Student Artist

thank you ^^

Reply

~lizzallen Oct 12, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

You're welcome ^^

Reply

~ivanesca Oct 10, 2012 Hobbyist Digital Artist

woah. attention whore.

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!FRAUSTRIA231 Oct 10, 2012 Student Artist

thank you

Reply

~TheSquidz Oct 10, 2012

Wow, you're fucking mean lmfao gtfo

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~fair-lights Oct 9, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Monsters tend to have the prettiest eyes.

Reply

~StrixAstrophel Oct 9, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

wow... pretty much my life story...

Reply

*e-hima Oct 9, 2012 Student Digital Artist

Paper bags UNITE!

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~Tayla19 Oct 9, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

lol XD

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