You'll Fall Before You Fly by The-Shifty-Lion on DeviantArt

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The-Shifty-Lion

Published: Nov 24, 2014

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Literature Text

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[ai adopt] care bear cousin

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Literature

Drunk Again

I'm fucking drunk again Drinking away my pain It's going to kill me one day The way I'm drinking my life away All it does is make me sick And act like a stupid prick So I drink on my own Staring for hours at my phone Hoping for it to ring Or for a notification to ding But as hours pass on by My lonliness hits an all time high And depression creeps back in

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Does it bother you?

Does it bother you That I am incomplete? An empty shell Left behind Utterly weak. Does it bother you That I am broken? Scattered pieces Endlessly lost Never to be spoken. Does it bother you That I am defeated? Lost to the world Forgotten by all Forever to be repeated. Does it bother you That I am lost? Forever wandering In the shadows of life A whisper never to exhaust. Does it bother you That I am enslaved? By my memories And darkened thoughts A soul never to be saved.

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Moonlight

Venturing into one of earth's most mystical realms, Awaiting nightfall to greet the sunset, Waves crash onto the shore, retreating back into the sea. Forming intricate swirls on it's glistening surface, The seas garden dancing in motion with its current, Like trees in a cool forests breeze. Your gaze carries itself across a mesmerising song of sway, The nights enchantress portraying a celestial vision; A vision that promotes clarity and calm. It is the wondrous beauty of natures untouched purity, That mirrors you into my soul.

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Drowning

I reach my hand And you grab it I pull back and Plead you to quit I am drowning but I Do not need you nearby All you do is stop me From sinking in the sea I shout for you And you reply I try not to Make you come by I try again You are not there I cry instead Does no one care? I am drowning but I... Get back! No, hither Attack! I dither... One more try, I'll Show them the pain No more fake smile No more I'll feign Why do they touch My hand so cold It is too much I just withhold I am drowning and I Do not need them nearby

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i like to think you think of me

you didn’t come to the airport. i didn’t send the postcard. these are small defeats. easy to swallow, easy to look back at, to pinpoint what we could have done differently, things that would have yielded a different outcome. vary the variables, reset the experiment— you didn’t get me flowers. i didn’t remember your birthday. paper cuts, not amputations. too insignificant to be remembered past the day they happened. blame is a tricky thing. hard to hold in your hands. the first time you take cough medicine that hasn’t been sweetened. a bone that breaks and heals crooked. a load heavy enough that holding i

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an open letter to my twelve year old self

one day you will cut all your hair off, and hang up a map of the world in your room and you will look at it on days you think your life is going nowhere. i hate to tell you this, but this isn’t your worst year. it also isn’t your best. one day you will cut all your hair off and realize that some poems need to be read out loud, to an audience, so you’ll take a hammer and some nails and build yourself one out of a girl whose veins look fragile but whose bones are strong, a boy who isn’t as tall as he thinks he is, but whose lifelines are the deepest you’ve ever seen, and a girl whose eyes remind you of the east

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Monster

I am not your little girl No pretty dresses and curls Anymore I am not that little child Who knew of nothing but smiles Evermore The years that have passed Left marks on the past And stained this clear glass Behind the storm blasts Now within a monster dwells Despite such attempts to quell This deluge Now inside there lives a fiend Whose sins cannot be redeemed No refuge The years on this path Have filled it with wrath Seeking a bloodbath Scorn all aftermath But maybe somewhere still That small girl holds the quill...

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The Eternal Outcast

These are the words that have burdened me throughout my life. Their insurmountable weight forever entrenched in my conscious. Being denied since childhood that human warmth for which we all long for. Always the odd one out, always the last one chosen, the one no one wanted to play with. Reminded that a favor was given under the pretense of compassion. Indeed, children can be so mean spirited. And not unlike my childhood my adolescence was greeted with open arms by discontent. Never got the girl, always made fun of, shunned from the group like a waste of space. As I grew older my state of abandonment remained the same. They say that adulthood is synonymous with tolerance and acceptance but in the end society held me in the same level of contempt. Adults are more adept at concealing their resentment but you eventually learn to see through their smiles. Feigning politeness in the absence of choice with the occasional comment or gesture discreetly passed along behind my back with the

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Beating

Hair plastered blotchy brow Torpedo-breath burgeons to blow Air whirrs - leaves crackle - shears the rattling branch clutched in a sweaty, swinging arm an unstoppable arc Eyes pinch shut right before- Slam! Hair brushed away: a modest shower: treebark, skin and dust. Breath released, the club skims listless down hanging target. Fingers test the swing: rockstill A sack of bowels and indifference the maggots keep on chewing on.

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Heed my words, listen to me
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Mature

Comments2

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Independencepioneer

Dec 13, 2014

I love it. You write very well. 'T is a rare gift, even on deviantART...

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