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ReflectionEvery time I look at you
This is what I see
A pathetic little girl
Who looks a lot like me
Every time I look at you
I feel the anger rise
It courses through my veins
And I want to close my eyes
You are so selfish
So needy and vile
Please just go away
At least for a while
I don't want to see you
You make me sick
How dare you show your face
I wish you didn't exist
You're to blame for everything
That I have gone through
You hurt the people I love
And now I'll do it to you
I'll cut you and stab you
I'll rip you to shreds
I'll tear you apart
Till you wish you were dead
You ruined my life
You caused all this pain
And I've come to think that
It will always remain
But who are you really?
The image becomes clearer
And then I realize
I am looking at the mirror.
Poets Always Lieambrosial fabrications are
easier to swallow down when
incandescence is a blessing bestowed
only upon those with silky tongues.
deceptions are beautiful
in the right words
because they are salvation, like a
rapture, they save the sickly,
self-indulgent souls from those
tragedies they used to write on the insides
of childhood notebooks about who
they could never be [themselves]
they rescue them from tremulous
corners and closets, hideaways
where they've grown too akin to
the demons they nurse; and drag
them into a land beautiful enough
to wear light as a second skin
(where lies are never discussed
but always shared)
are so much more comforting
than the absoluteness of reality
because self-resentment is as
natural as a heartbeat to those
who were born breathing and
abhorring and denying all from one
steady gasp of what the existent world
had to offer to them
back then their eyes opened, and
their fingers fumbled, born, they realized
the world wasn't as pretty as promi
cyclical decay.an apple falls and hits the head
of a seamstress in a straight jacket
who ties her knots a bit too tightly
and can't crawl out of her own skin, but
she smiles like a jackal and plays games
with the school children in the garden
that visit her when class is over. they
bring her wood and coals so she can
set herself on fire when the moon comes
to scold her in the night. by dawn, she
is ashes and loose threads, but has just
enough time to repair herself by noon.
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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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