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Asphyxiate the Child
Rip the flesh from me
Reveal what\'s inside
This demon burning within my skull
I tear & slice into the skin
Bloodletting the pain
Longing for death, I die
You resurrect me
Forced to feel
Cut this umbilical cord from me
Inject me with your infection
Solder this machine
Claw into my thoughts
Poke & Prod
Rearrange the pieces
Asphyxiate the child
Lover Never Dies-ClicheWho says I cant get into heaven, Even when I have one wing
My tears, The rain drips on my face
I loved then, I can love now
How I learned, I learned that love never dies,
It just goes away
Slowly my heart rebuilds, The painful reconstruction
I stand with arms around you, watching the storm
Her eyes are heaven, But how can I tell you
Trying to write you my feelings, my past
And I cry
Gold hair, yellow brown and green
I try to picture you in my head forever
Cold dark clouds trying to push me down
The glimpse I had of you fights with darkness
And I wonder why, tracing paths, we search the stormy sky.
The ways, the wormholes to heaven, Still get me lost
The tears of her eyes and mine, we feel the pain together
I loved then, I can love now, How I learned, I learned that
Love never dies, it just goes away
Close my eyes now, and focus on her
You are more beautiful and never out of my thoughts
And my tears is blood from my heart
May I offer my newly fixed heart, for your love
For your love
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More