ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Each day wears on, and still no end in sight,
I stay awake, a step away from ending
Up in bed and falling to the night.
For such sweet sleep, for all its hidden mending,
I yearn for it. A single thing forestalls
Those plans, the work of words that softly calls
My heart to pour out all the words still pending.
And with this final line, my rest's impending.
I stay awake, a step away from ending
Up in bed and falling to the night.
For such sweet sleep, for all its hidden mending,
I yearn for it. A single thing forestalls
Those plans, the work of words that softly calls
My heart to pour out all the words still pending.
And with this final line, my rest's impending.
Literature
The Hurt Place
It’s an old place, Ancient when he was young, Aging behind golden dreams, Growing as the traps were sprung. It’s a rotten place, Scents decay and filthy stung, Worms, mites, and maggots teem, Winds of acid corrode the lung. It’s a sad place, Fading spirits strung, Of terror, dismay, and screams, Unheard by bitten tongue. It’s a deep place, Lowest on the rung, Below flint and iron seams, Where desires are sorely flung.
Literature
Reasons To Cry
It scares me that I never knew. How could I ever be so blind? I see now, with eyes unclouded, Who really cares for me, And who does not... Self-centered and vain as sin, You want someone to commiserate with, But it will not be me any longer... You knew exactly what you were doing, Every time you put another knife into my heart, Each time you heard me crying And chose to do nothing, You only got meaner and nastier, Kicking me when I was already so far down, I could feel the worms crawling under the dirt... Still, no one around me cared at all, They called me lazy, selfish, and useless, Even while I broke my back to care for them, Walking with broken legs for their pleasure, Dancing on shards of glass for their amusement, As I was burned, bitten, beaten, shocked, tortured, All to their bitter, cruel amusement, And I became their favorite punching bag... They just kept adding more daggers, Cruelly twisting them until my spine bruised, Until everything that I ever was had
Literature
Dissociation - The Mind of a Schizophrenic (Poem)
Dissociation The Mind of a Schizophrenic By J.C. Solis What is a man with a mind that’s not free? And can’t be whatever it wants to be What is a mind that has no such control? What is it like to still have a pure soul? (Who am I, where am I, what’s this I feel? A feeling that to Me barely feels real) What is this world where people live their lives? And search for peace of mind for which they strive (What is this place. And where am I right now? I’m so lost, and yet found my way somehow) What are these colors painted all around? (Why can’t I plant my feet down on the ground?) (What are these faces that the people sneer?) The Mentally Ill the people do fear For this is a world of judgement and mange (All while I start to feel further deranged) And with a mind that seems to lack control With tiredness that soon starts to take a toll What is this life with twists and turns around? (Why must I suffer in Life so profound?) What is psychosis to
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Comments1
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Hahaha. I love it.
YOU CAN DO IT! Keep going!
YOU CAN DO IT! Keep going!