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Graduation DayGraduation Day:

They told us we would be alright...

We had fought with honour and won our titles.

We had overcome trials together -

Watching dozens of our siblings fall in the line of duty.

For this they had promised us, a wondrous welcome;

A bountiful world of adventure, with a myriad of paths.

All this, they said, awaited us in the stone cities.

Large metropolises, where the working folk resided...

There were hundreds of us, who made that journey.

Walking miles across the scorching desert,

Clinging to a hope of the fortunes beyond.

Yet what awaited us was not a promised land -

Nor was it a life based on the merit we had earned.

You don't just die.Do you understand?
The blade against your wrist
Doesn't just slice your skin.
It cuts through others
Hearts
Souls
And sanity.

Do you understand?
You don't just kill yourself.
You kill everyone.
Everyone dies
Everyone cries
Everyone suffers
From YOUR goodbyes.

Do you understand?
You don't just die.
You take everyone down
With you.

I wish...I wish I was a monster
So I could be kind
And break the stereotypes.

I wish I was colored
So I could respect people
And break the stereotypes.

I wish I was a man
So I could be kind to women
And break the stereotypes.

I wish I had male friends
So we could all be..
Just friends
And break the stereotypes.

I wish I had autism
So I could prove that autism,
Does NOT mean "dumb".
And I could break the stereotypes.

I wish I could change the world.
But sometimes, you can't break a stereotype.

Only stereotypes, can break you.

Lingerhow can i move forward,
when the fingerprints of my insecurities
are still lingering within my chest,
pressing against my ribs like piano keys?
i am just waiting, for the day,
when the saddest parts of me
are overcome with songs of serenity.

Pretty Blue PillsPretty blue pills,
shiny in my palm,
the ticket to my peace,
to my eternal calm.

They're so perfectly round,
and soon they'll be in me.
The closest to perfect
that I'll ever be.

They go down so smooth.
Five, ten, fifteen and twenty.
Soon I'll be gone.
Twenty-five and Thirty.

That should be enough,
but I'll play it safe.
Thirty-five and forty.
Now I have no more to take.

The bottle is empty,
as empty as I feel.
None of this is happening,
too good to be real.

But soon I start to drift
into a dark unknown fog.
Somewhere quite distantly.
I hear a muffled sob.

But I blow it off as fake.
Nobody could possibly care.
I doubt anyone's noticed
th

ten ways this breakup isn't meant for the movies1.
you go out for twelve eggs and come back
with half a dozen and a new girlfriend.
you hold the eggs out to me like
six dead birds is enough of a peace offering.

2.
i push the eggs out of your hand and stay
with my hand over your heart as i watch them
fall. if they do not hit the ground, this is all a dream.

3.
the eggs smash on the tile and splatter
on the cherry wood cabinets, newly installed
that cost me two paychecks.

3.
the egg whites hit your leather shoes that
you’ve worn for two months straight
because you think they make you look more sophisticated.

3.
the egg whites hit the fridge halfway up, barely touching
the moose mag

PhantomWhen life
or fate
or whatever it is
that puts things together
and takes them apart...
when It
amputated you,
it left me
with a phantom
limb
and you are still attached
to my body
when I dance
and make love
alone

Dear friend,You have to understand, dear
The reason to why I run.
I run away from reality
From the lungs that cannot
Take anymore smoke
From the heart that threatens to
Stop...
I run away because
I'm a coward
Because I'm afraid of life
Afraid to care or love.
I'm afraid that every time
I'm glad it blows up in my face
And that every time I smile
I shed a million more tears.
That's why I run, dear
You have to understand.
I was destined to be a fighter but
I don't want to fight anymore.
I was destined to be a warrior
But how am I supposed to win when
The war I fight is against life itself?
I know that I always blow everything up but-
I keep stepping on mines, dear...
...I keep stepping on mines...

They Called Her UglyThey called her ugly
and she screamed that she was beautiful
because that is what she believed
and They screamed twice as loud
and They left a small scar on her arm that was
big and red and bright
for all to see.

They called her ugly
and she yelled that she was beautiful
because that is what she thought she was
and They yelled three times as loud
and They left a bigger scar on her other arm that was
big and red and bright
for all to see.

They called her ugly
and she said that she was beautiful
because that is what she hoped
and They just said it louder
and They left a scar on face that was
big and red and bright
for all to see.

They call

ellipsisshe goes to sleep
clawing at her chest with pinpoint accuracy
for an emptiness she can’t describe,
but hates all the same. tomorrow

she will write a letter: “dear boy,
i always wanted to be somebody’s
flowery poem, but the verses carved in my arms
are riddled with ugly clichés. & you are why

i don’t sleep through the night. if
we were a language, i was the
subordinating conjunction, you were

the punctuation.

i remember you in staccato
conclusions, solemn absences
of goodbye”

brain squealsI beat depressions in the earth
for my brain squeals and waves
that burst in my wet ears
until something makes me drown.
I will. (again) V.

Virginia,

put rocks in pockets
and walk right in --
I'll drink your overcoat
until your throat weeps
and your soaked hair
weighs you down.

I promise.

with love,
Ouse.

P.S.
brain squeals are from cold sweats
sleep well.

TearsI am not afraid to cry.

I am not afraid for you to see the tears

My tears.

Don’t tell me I have no heart.

Don’t tell me I have no soul.

For without them I could not cry.

You may not see my tears but they are there.

I have learned to let myself cry for the things I’ve loved,

For the things I’ve lost.

They are silent tears, but they are mine.

So let me cry.

Let me show you I have a heart.

Let the things that touch my heart be shown through my tears.

I am not afraid to cry.

I am notI’m not your little boy.
You’re not my little girl.
I’m just someone you met,
And wants to change the world
I’m not the prince in your dreams
I don’t have smarts or might
I’m just the one that screams
And cries to sleep at night
I’m not who you want me to be.
I will never be what you are.
I’m myself, I am free.
I’m not ashamed of my scars
I’m not that weak
You’re not that strong
You still have company
But I’m still alone
So I speak
Though this poem.
It’s not a pretty love song
I’m just saying what pains me, explaining what’s going on.
Because I am not perfect,
I’m not retarded,
I’m just like you,
Broken Hearted
Never forget,
There is always a reason to be
And I won’t regret
I’m always happy to be me.

combatantI.
it strikes me
that this woman
could be a palace.

I marvel at
the opulent dome of
her brow, her arch
expression—

skin like a courtyard of
ivory tiles,
a thousand intersecting
golden lines about her
head and neck.

she beams from atop her
sunlit tower,
beatific and beautiful,

spreads her arms like
open doors,
invites you to be one of

the many
who have wandered her
lavish halls.

II.
I’ve often thought
of myself
as a castle:

all rough-hewn stone
and turrets,
a temper like molten
tar.

my head is crowned
with
embattled parapets,

weapons readied
at the crenels.

I look out from my
guerites, my brattices,
eyes like arrow-slits

Second ShadowThe hand on your shoulder
The whispers in your mind
The words on your tongue
The voice in your throat
And the feelings in your soul

To drive to madness
To seduce the insane
To draw the blood
And dull the senses
To plague the memories
Of damage done
To fake safe haven
As the character changes

Light the anger and fuel the rage
Another mind to feed
A second shadow
To take you into eternity

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Nine Times Nine Times NinePretty boy,
With golden eyes,
Keeps fallen stars
And beautiful words
Inside of glass bottles.
He hangs these
Lost eternities,
Unmade wishes,
From the ceiling, on
Ropes
Twisted into nooses.
A menagerie
Of tears
Made from silver and gold,
Joy and sorrow,
Crowd littered corners in their jars,
Gathering merciful dusts.
Black cat takes a photograph
Of another life to live,
Crossing the paths of
Mortals,
Adding their years to his collection.
Pretty boy,
With golden eyes,
Sleeps near his treasures
In shadowed,
High places,
Protecting his stolen ages.
Decades pass
In his ninety-nine
Generations;
He grows younger
And wiser
To the greedy games of men.
He ties birdsong and
Decaying leaves
In between his fingers
And pins snowflakes along
With sweet, warm breezes
To his palms.
Black cat
Takes ninety-nine
Snapshots
Of smothered weeping,
Bliss gone unsung,
And captures moments
(infinities)
Between the points of
Sewing needles
And the creaks in floorboards.
Pretty boy,
With empty eyes,
Leads th

Never AfterWhen they buried you,
It was face-down,
With your
Arms over your head.

I want to make-believe
I'm just hiding
Under the covers.

Don't worry-
I'll make them all
Go away.

You and I
Stood on the roof
During thunderstorms,
With mason jars,
Telling the heavens how sorry we were.

We have to make the angels
Stop crying.

I have fifty-four jars
Of dirty rainwater.

Every night,
Complaints of monsters
In the closet.

Each time I shut the door,
You stared into the mirror.

I can still see them.

That evening,
I walked you to the dock
And helped you
Find sea glass and
Pretty stones

To fill your pockets.
We ti

Lacklustre StardustPaint something with
Words
That hang just at
The tip of your tongue,

And cross the gaps
Between galaxies
With your fingertips,

The way you used to do,

Before the stars fell
And your bones turned to ash.

There used to be solar flares
In your breath, and
An icy vacuum,
Longing to warm,
Behind your eyes,

Before you fell into
That super-
Massive
Blackhole
That stole your light.

You traverse
Across the nothing
And everything
Of the cosmos,
Searching for what
You claimed to have
Never lost,

For the purpose of
Living in your past
(Before your stars fell).
This way,
No one will see
That the stars

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Things of Faerietale

by *SomethingOnceSacred, Oct 15, 2012, 11:50:43 AM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

There is a boundless ocean
Located
Just under her sternum.

There is every universe,
Known and unknown,
Within her pupils;

Don't blink, dearest,
Lest they should fade.

101

10 7 1

Things of Faerietaleby *SomethingOnceSacred

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One day,

She might see them

For herself.

--

-What do you think of when you read this piece?

-Does it make you feel anything? If so, what?

-Do you have a favorite part? Least favorite part?

I appreciate your feedback, loves!

©*Cugra

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Submitted on: October 15, 2012
File Size: 314 bytes

Views: 101
Favourites: 10 (who?)
Comments: 7
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~anonymous-yet-again Nov 27, 2012 Writer

i think of a goddess in a way, but just like she has created worlds on paper or in her mind, not necessarily for real. But don't blink, because you might lose the ideas. I don't know. Whenever i say what a poem means it's never exactly what the poet intended, but maybe a bit...

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*SomethingOnceSacred Nov 27, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

What a very interesting way of looking at it. o.o

Hahah, thanks for sharing that with me! I love hearing things like that. It just makes my day.

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~anonymous-yet-again Nov 27, 2012 Writer

that's me: interesting looking. wait...

but yeah, it's good to hear that i made your day. so it goes both ways.

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~imagine1222 Oct 15, 2012

I loved it especially the "every universe within her pupils" part it shows how creative a person can be!!! Very nice oh yeah and whats up lol

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*SomethingOnceSacred Oct 15, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Well, thank you, deary! Hahah, I'm glad you liked it. ^^

Not much lol Caught a bit of a cold, but I'm alive. How about with yourself?

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~imagine1222 Oct 18, 2012

Sorry I haven't been on in a while I have been good, going through some stuff in my life and just kind of dealing with it. It has been one of those months!

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*SomethingOnceSacred Oct 19, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Ah, no worries, dear. ^^ In know what you mean. I hope things start running smoothly for you soon!

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