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Inside Out"I think I wear my soul inside out."

"What?"

"My soul. It's inside out."

"That's…a strange thing to say."

"I have all the symptoms though."

"And what are the symptoms of this…disea-"

"It's not a disease."

"All right. What are the symptoms, then?"

"I care too much about all the wrong things, I worry about odd things, my heart breaks too easily and my brain feels a little too asymmetrical to the things that are supposed to be fun."

"Fun?"

"You know…parties and alcohol and…normal things. Like that."

"Oh."

"What?"

"Nothing. What do you care too much about?"

"Everything. Global warming. The whales. Aliens. Israel.
Describe What We Have, He SaidWhat we have is
a little bit of a fairytale,
a part of a story
and a taste of a slightly star crossed romance;
mixed in a half written sad song
written on pages of blue ink,
carried away in the wind.

It's beautiful,
it's a little broken,
but it's strong enough
to stand on it's own.

Just like us.
Dead WrongDear Boy with the Broken Eyes.

Just because they have always said it, things have always been difficult. And they are right. Life has always been difficult. Things will never happen the way you want them to happen. Broken hearts are so much easier to find than mended ones. And dreams? Well, if the world ran on dreams, we'd be building a whole new universe already, just to escape our own jaded one.

When I met you, you had already seen the worst of this world. They told you that you were not allowed to love because you couldn't do it the right way. They informed you that you weren't a poet, just a vagabond with tragic fingers on a broken inst
RivalryHis name is Jack. I know that usually, I don't disclose much to you. But Jack is someone I need to tell you about. I have known Jack my whole life. He's been a best friend to me when the concept of best friends was nothing but some candy, and who led the gang in the playground. Commitment was a pair of bicycles thrown on the lawn and a race to the spiced lemonade his mother made so well. When we were young, we knew we were going to conquer the world. The battle was always, who would conquer it first?

Jack's father was an alcoholic. I will never forget that rainy afternoon when I opened the door to find him standing there, rain soaked tears s
Blame Me.It's my fault we met that afternoon.
It's my fault that I wasn't looking for anything.
It's my fault that you were good to me then.
It's my fault that you told me that you would love me.
It's my fault that I fell in love with you despite not wanting to.
It's my fault you couldn't commit to me.
It's my fault that despite everything I had been through, I trusted you.
It's my fault I spoke about the rape.
It's my fault that I mentioned the pain.
It's my fault she died just when I had thought I could keep her.
It's my fault that you treat me like someone who needs you.
It's my fault you don't want me.
It's my fault that you never love
Gateway"Do you know what victory is?" asked a soft voice behind her.

The girl with the broken eyes didn't look up. She couldn't. She didn't want to. Her whole body was tattooed with the rain that had started hours before, her hair dripping with the sky's tears. She hadn't wanted to dry the sorrow of the weather from her skin; for fear that someone would see her own.

"I asked, do you know what victory is?" The voice was soft, but strong. And there was something about it that reminded her that she needed to pay attention.

She still didn't speak and a disappointed sigh came from the voice. It was as if the rain had stolen her voice.

"Victory is, wh
Online"I have a problem."

"You always were a worrier."

"Don't you want to know what it is?"

"Not if it's going to worry me as well."

"That's precisely why you should know it."

"I really think I'll pass."

"But-"

"No."

"…"

"Thank you."

"But…this time it's a really big deal."

"Oh for the love of- All right. All right. You win. What is it?"

"What did you think the first time you met me?"

"That's not a problem, that's a question."

"I know."

"How am I supposed to answer it exactly?"

"I don't know if your mother explained this to you, but all you have to do is open your mouth and words-"

"Shut it, smart ass."

"Then answer the q
Girl with Eyes ShiningThere was once a girl with a broken heart. She nursed it but only a little. Her eyes always shone with tears. Her hands shook because of the weight she held in her tiny hands. She went to her mother. "Mother, my heart is broken. Will you fix it?"

Her mother looked down her nose at the little girl and said, "No. Not until you learn how to behave."

She looked down at her toes and a tear fell from her shining eyes. Still holding her heart in her hands, she looked at her father. "Father, my heart is broken. Will you fix it?"

Her father looked away from his newspaper for a moment, "It gets on my nerves when you cry. Go away."

The girl sadly cl
EternityThis is to the child I loved, the one I lost before I was meant to.
This is for the little girl who would have danced with me to the songs we were both meant to love.
This is for the angel who I was meant to have changed for, the little one whose heart was in my own.
This is for the girl who would have skipped to school, the baby who would have laughed.
This is for the song I couldn't sing, the poem I could never write.
This is for the moment in time that never existed, in a car that never moved.
This is for the second that could have been a lifetime, the forever that should have been ours.
This is for the darling who should have bee
Trust IssuesWhat if the reason your phone is busy is because you were talking to another girl?
What if the reason you are out is because you're picking up someone else?
What if the girl you insist is just a friend is something a hell of a lot more?
What if the reason you looked at your ex's profile online was because you miss her?
What if the conversation we just had was in front of another woman and you both laughed at me?
What if the trip I've taken is a way for you to run off with someone else?
What if you are so dead inside from the women who have cheated on you, that you just don't think much of it if you do it to me?
What if you don't care i
My InspirationYou once asked me what inspired me, sweet love;
And I shall tell what you want to hear...

It is a girl who isn't clever, but clever in what she knows
and a lost boy who knows exactly where he is going to go.
It is the scent of cologne and smoke and lovemaking
and a man who wears his heart on his sleeve
It is a woman who has always believed in her lover
and he will let her down no more
It is a sick man who is whole again
and the wife who stayed by his side
It is a writer who has found a brand new muse
and the paint of the artist who draws her lover
It is the words of a poet whose trust is renewed
and the warmth in the words of the
Vengeance"What did she say this time?"

"How did you-"

"It's always your mother, and I always know. Now tell me."

"…"

"I'm not going to ask you again. Just tell me."

"She…said that I can't draw. I can't sing. I can't act. I can't do anything and I never shall- You're laughing."

"I'm sorry. Certain phrases make me want to laugh. 'I can't' is one of them."

"I'm glad you find my grief so amusing."

"Look, you need to understand something. The word 'can't' is going to follow you around for the rest of your life. History is filled with people who were told they 'can't' do something. You know what makes them special?"

"What?"

"They did it
Seeking Solace"There is no solace in tears."

It took a moment for her to realize, her tears frozen in place that there was someone else in the room. The broken girl with rivulets of gleaming diamonds dripping down her face stared at the floor. "Leave me alone." She said softly and sobbed into her hands, still as broken as she was before.

A soft sigh came from the boy who spoke. Yet, he didn't leave her alone.

"There is no solace in words."

She looked up from her book, her fingers moving along the words like they were treasured pieces of gold, each one more valuable than the next. Her tears blurred the words, words she needed to take her away to another
ObsessionIt takes 14 minutes and twelve seconds to walk to your home from mine every day.  Your mother never fails to smile at me when she opens the door. I never fail to notice that it doesn't reach her eyes anymore.

You leave your door open an exact two point three centimeters. I don't think you do it on purpose. There is something wrong with the wood that has left it that way. I pause one foot outside the door and listen to you cough, trying to determine how sick you feel today. I hate that every time I think you are particularly ill, I am always right.

Six months, seventeen days and fourteen hours. That is how long its been since the d
Unbreakable"Hello."

"Do I know you?"

"You don't sing anymore."

"I'm..."

"It's just that I noticed. You don't sing anymore."

"I…have nothing left to sing about."

"Why?"

"Because I'm just a broken voice since he has gone."

"You are not a broken voice."

"You don't understand-"

"Your music sings through your bones. Don't give someone the power to take it away."

"But it hurts to sing."

"Your music saves you from falling. Don't push your savior away."

"I cannot…not anymore."

"Your music makes you into the beautiful girl with eyes that make us smile. Don't let your gift fail you."

"Please…stop."

"Your music, your voice is who you
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Hemingway Would Hate ThisThe trouble with the Boy was that he didn't have the heart of Shakespeare, the voice of Poe, nor the soul of Wordsworth, nor the knowledge of Rembrandt in his darkest days. He didn't have a trace of Michaelangelo's spirit nor the angst of Carvaggio and this on its own was enough to dissuade him from understanding that technique was far better than solidarity and possession far more ageless than youth.

He didn't have any of this knowledge because his father hadn't had the courage to tell him that he needed all the qualities of these great men, to win over the heart of a woman who had the dreams of Austen, the ideas of Da Vinci and the scent o

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June 19, 2011
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What is Hell?

:iconuntamedunwanted:

Hell is staring at a phone willing it to ring
just because you believe someone will keep
his forgotten promises.

Hell is calling someone
hoping they would be glad to hear from you
only to hear them say they will call you later.

Hell is understanding that you're temporary
even though you have already fallen in love
with the person who cannot love anymore.

Hell is being faithful to someone
without ever knowing if he ever will
be as faithful to you.

Hell is wandering on an empty road
After a truly awful fight which
didn't end in reconciliation

Hell is not realizing that the truck was heading
straight for you when your eyes were closed
the strains of music deafening you to a roar.

Hell is waiting for your daughter to breathe
without a thousand machines having to help her
take a deep clean breath.

Hell is waiting for your child to wake up
so she can tell you she loves you
and that she is just fine.

Hell is holding your best friend's hand
as tightly as you can just so it doesn't
feel as cold as it does in yours.

Hell is wanting to play soccer with your sister
then realizing that she won't be around for a while
and praying that a while won't be forever.

Hell is watching the girl you just realized you love
struggling to breathe on a hospital bed
knowing that you were the one who put her there.
:iconuntamedunwanted:
Life has a funny way of making you stop feeling sorry for yourself. I thought I was in hell, having to repeat a semester and things going so askew with my parents.

And then this happened to a dear friend. She just happened to have loved someone who didn't care for her as much as he should have.

What a horrible way for me to start counting my blessings.

I'm sorry my beautiful girl. I'm sorry you had to get hurt for me to realise how good I had it. I'm so glad you're fine now and no one will ever hurt you again.

Not even him. No matter how much he claims to love you.

(Even if he hasn't left your side for even a second. I still hate him.)


EDIT: Decided this should not be in the scraps.
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:icondreamartcore:
~DreamArtCore Mar 1, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
This is absolutely amazing. Your poems are little stories, but also large bits of life all wrapped up in truths and unraveling lies.
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:iconslingshottf:
!SlingshotTF Jun 9, 2012
You words are just.... beautiful...
Reply
:iconmind-lapse23:
~mInd-Lapse23 Oct 9, 2011
I learned that people act before thinking on its effect. That's how words can become so meaningless... Also, people who maintain that sunny day perspective are only willing so that they may feel closure and strength of will, regardless if they get hurt (or even cause harm). They (and this is something I have a difficult time with) need to find the appropriate time, otherwise their intentions rest in shallow waters and thus are revealed easily (how unattractive).
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:iconshehrozeameen:
~shehrozeameen Aug 30, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
... This is pretty dark...

Which makes me want to like it even more.

Its true. Hell is the shattering of our own selves - but in such perspectives I've never even understood.

The best friend part was actually thought provoking. That's well made.

Good thing this isn't in scraps. Its well written.

It should have been in a 100 Theme Challenge though. Its tough stuff.
Reply
:iconnightkyoblack:
~NightKyoBlack Aug 20, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
Beautiful. Just beautiful...
Reply
:iconazeeratheninja:
~AzeeraTheNinja Jul 19, 2011  Student General Artist
Wow this is a beautiful piece, I absolutely love the idea, and the emotion was just flooding this piece, almost making me tear up.

Really, I absolutely love it, the italics at the end of each stanza is also a nice add, I love how you wrote this, I love the change of views, and I didn't see anything wrong with it.

Great beautiful piece :clap:
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:iconwillowriveracres:
~WillowRiverAcres Jul 12, 2011  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Wow, I totally didn't see that coming.
This was very beautifully put and you got the point over so poignantly!
I really hope your friend was ok! <3
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:iconuntamedunwanted:
*UntamedUnwanted Jul 13, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you. She's much better now. :)
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:iconwillowriveracres:
~WillowRiverAcres Jul 14, 2011  Hobbyist Digital Artist
You're welcome! And I'm really glad she is :D
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:icongohibi:
Mood: Sadness ~GOHIBI Jul 12, 2011
I wish I could paint with words as well as you do. What art I do is a sad imitation of the images you evoke.
I am glad to hear your friend is doing well. As to your comment at the bottom of the piece. Makes me mindful of the proverb, "I complained of not being able to walk until I met a man with no feet." There is always someone worse in almost all of our situations. Do we only pity them, or do we try to raise them up?
Love you hun. Give you long back rub.
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