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Mother is not a flowerSomeone once said, "A woman who chooses a life of motherhood is like a flower that dies to bare fruit. You may produce a delicious sweet juicy fruit. But than again it could turn sour. Or be eat away by bugs and animals. And possible picked too soon or too late. The future for the fruit will never be predicted by the flower. Is it worth wasting such fragile beauty?" I have my own hang ups on motherhood but I find this statement ( as enchantingly put as it is) ignorant. A flower is fragile yes. But we don't see it's strength, as it fights off wind, as it stands tall in harsh rain and heat. It goes all through this to bare a fruit. The fruits future is as it will be. Undecided until born. Like a child. In case you don't know where I'm going with this, women who choose to be a mother are not weaker for it. Most are stronger than any working woman or man. I doubt most people could handle a moms job. Dealing with a child 24/7 every day of the year. Some more than One kid. And how they came
The FeelingThe feeling.
Of goodness and sparks.
For me it's anticipation.
Like stepping out at a cliff and peering down.
Or up into the blue Sky after a rainy day.
I feel it in the back of my neck warm and tingly.
I want to clutch something tight in my hands.
Until they hurt.
My hands, I want them to hurt.
I want the pain to validate my feeling.
That it's not a dream.
This feeling is really happening.
It comes in waves for me.
Than I ease in to it.
It always feel good and bad.
It's rare so I treasure it.
Locking every little moment away in my memory.
It's my treasure.
Here is a story.Here is a story. There was once a girl. She was very innocent and believed that if she were to be good and obeyed what every one told her she would be happy. And intern they would be happy as well. But one day she was told not to do something, and as always she agreed and did not do that thing. But another adult came to her not a minute after the first and said to do that thing she was just told not to do. "But..." She cried out in confusion. The adult looked at her...He looked at her with mean angry eyes. For she had never disagreed with anyone. Why him? 'No'...he thought. And she went silent at his stare. There she sat, contemplating what to do. She had never gone against what she was told. So she knew not of punishment. Yet she felt pain in her chest. Soon she would have to do or not do what she was told. Standing where exactly she was told not to and too. She looked up at the sky, for maybe God had the answer. She was told God had all the answers, so he must have the answer to this
Well That SucksThis road I walk has no end.
I can longer turn back.
The path is lost in darkness.
I have forgotten my purpose,
But continue on blindly.
I follow no light.
Only darkness exist here.
There are many who walk a similar path.
But this one is mine.
No words are needed here.
Only thoughts are constant questions.
Can I ever escape my path?
Will I ever be freed of my choices?
Was I always alone?
Did I do this to myself,
Or was there someone who brought me?
Fear, saddness, love, happiness...
I felt these emotions once, right?
But all that is left is...nothing.
Have I found my roads end?
Can it really be all over?
Did I live good...
Was it worth it?
Will I ever truly know...
Let me sleep.
I wish to sleep.
Go into slumber
Never to awake,
And return to the World.
Laughter and smiles in my world.
Restless and tired I awake
Not wanting to see the alarm clock
Next to me.
Let me sleep.
I wish to sleep.
I don't want to see
The broken world outside my window.
Is She Lost ForeverChapter 15
"June." Someone is saying my name ahh my head huts it's like an echo? God everywhere hurts. "June are you ok?" Damn what happened why can't I remember anything? Wait no, I was walking home, then I was I was. "AHHHHH!!!" I sat up screaming flying my arms in front of me, hitting someone, tears running down my eyes. "JUNE! JUNE IT'S OK! YOU'RE SAFE!" I stopped; it's its Kevin. I open my eyes, yes its Kevin. I clung to his shirt and cried into his chest. " Oh god June, its ok I'm here now. You're safe now." He let me cry for hours, I ruined his shirt but he didn't care not at all. "Are you ok?" He said as I leaned on his chest, I hadn't said one word since I realized it was him I nodded. My throat hurt from crying and screaming. He rubbed my back and kissed my head, for I don't know how long. I needed to ask him something but how do I ask him that. "June, umm they didn't touch you. In that way. I got there just as you passed out, I did
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
She's an artistShe's an artist.
Always seems to be daydreaming,
She draws to escape her pain.
Cause for a single moment,
When her work is done.
It seems like there is no more rain.
And she could finally touch the sun.
The one that shines so brightly in her paintings.
But then it's gone,
So she keeps drawing,
She's become good at escaping.
Running from reality.
Because dreams are the only things she wants,
Her imagination is the only thing she's ever known.
And it's sad really...
Because she tries so hard to be happy.
But the most beautiful thing she could ever create.
Was that smile upon her face,
And that is the one thing that remains blank.
Waiting to someday be something more than,
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
Still HereSuicide is a
Thought that frequently lurks
In my mind, wich
Lets it overcome the
Laughter and happiness
Here I still fight, however
Enduring this sad life
Reviving my hopes
Embracing the gift of life
Ideationlocked in a room
with only one escape,
or so it seems.
your hands shake and you drop the key.
Suddenly you're unsure.
Do I want to pick it up?
Do I want to find it?
Do I want to leave?
you think to yourself
there's no other choice.
find the key or corrode, or rust
wear down the hinge
use sadness as the key.
You have the answer now.
Just open the door.
Just walk outside and don't look back.
Let yourself leave with no regrets.
And yet you can't.
You're afraid, you think,
but you are actually strong.
Don't run away.
Don't take that leap.
my bedspread is white and so is my coffin.i can feel
the night closing
the stars are breaking
empty glass bottles
inside of my
mouth, and they taste like
ambien. bitter, then
but you still can't close your fucking eyes
little blue pills for
eyes– it was winter and i
dreams of nothing more than
nothing. the devil
tied chains around all the
vessels in my
body. laughed, and by god i
laughed too (and laughedandlaughedandlaughed).
this will all be over soon i swear i will take everything off your skin and bones and burn it up
and then january took the world
in it's grip and i
drowned in the snow that
will never hydrate the
can you hear that it's the night and it's so beautiful so come here darling and we'll watch the sun rise and set and rise and
smotherher spine was dusk
and unmade nests,
but he tried to live there
he was neither nocturnal
nor a dawn-believer,
so he suffocated
in the birdhouse of her ribs.
Take a step back, look past the details.
Stop focusing on all the necessary stuff.
Feel the world moving around you.
Keep an open mind to all the strange things.
Happy is easier than you think.
Sadness though, sadness is hard.
If you don't recognized it...
It will devour you.
Taking all your freedom.
Making you doubt yourself.
Forcing you to say,
"There is no way out."
But if you take a breath...
And one big step back.
You may see it all clearly.
Past all the lies.
Lies in the details you once accepted as fact.
Take a step back, than I suggest running.
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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