| How can you tell others who you are, if you don't yourself? -paloma. |
| How can you tell others who you are, if you don't yourself? -paloma. |
| "They say ignorance is bliss But when my penmanship commits To the depths of my soul No cynicism can grip its Meaning deceiving qualities Leave me screaming and sprawled out I face questions of what it's all about My head drawn out But no, Being stupid gets you nowhere. I'd rather be mildly arrogant." -Morse Ft. Supa by I Hate this Place |
| "I often close my eyes, and then I see your smile. You reach out for my hand; and I'm woken from my dream. Although your heart is mine, it's hollow inside. I never had your love, and I never will." -Kiss the Rain by Hienie Dao |
| does your work make me feel something? if it did, it's most likely here. |


Goddess of FaytLittle feathers dancing, falling flames across the sky, Dreams so softly screaming; Angels seem to die. Here, I am standing, alone, averting your gaze. God is trying to wipe away the past; Erase. White flies across the ocean. Foam spurts; out clouds of blue. Ravens rise like phoenixes in hunger of finding you. Fayt is stringing her harp, and the melody of her voice, a curse. Every where you turn to, things get worse and worse. Look into the eyes of your love and bid them farewell. Soon, all this will be over. Soon you'll be in hell. No one ever bleeds; they just cry red tears.Goddess of Fayt


guilty consciencesi'd say no to what we made if no was ever an option.guilty consciences
i'd hide all the leftovers and say "nothing was left" then i'd throw away the evidence so she could never find out.
but the dishes are still dirty, no matter how hard i scrub them.
i'd tell her "i grew out of my clothes" to throw away those you have tainted.
detergent doesnt work on
this fabric you have stained.
but she doesnt know that. she doesnt know half as much as she should.
all that's left are guilty consciences.


these eyes.glassy eyes; windows to athese eyes.
heart refusing to see. mirrors to things no one will understand. doors to a soul that no one will mend. and mother to tears that no one will wipe.
blissful eyes; a touch to the world of real life magic. mischief brought to life, holding an air of innocence. happiness affected only by the tide of summer. creating dissonance from all that once
was peaceful.
wet eyes; rivers of the heart pleading for a new beginning. washing away sins that mark the past with bruises. always pointed down


puzzler.tonight, i decided to pluck my heartstrings and sing a song dedicated only to you.puzzler.
simple melody, like the story of our love that once bloomed in the
dawn of winter.
since this began, i have noticed the sky has become clearer and the sun has shone brighter.
the year is almost to a close. and as we chase the butterflies off
into january, all i hope to see is your chocolate brown eyes.
dazzling muddy brown irises that bear the window to my heart.
to say that you've meant nothing to me would be a most undeser


logarithmtell me who you are. a number, among the hundreds,logarithm
hiding behind the dots and the digits of incoherent squabble.
tell me what you want. and let me go, if you can, now, because i no longer understand the code you have made our language.
statistics say that you don't matter, adding one hardly causes a difference. but you, with my heart, would raise the power to two. (and thats difference enough)
But 'I' is an imaginary number, and so
i must be imaginary.
There is an infinite amount of possibilities,
and among


RealistSense and Heart are not one thing; logic binds the other. To follow ones emotions, is to live in the shadow of ignorance. Life heeds not the voice of fools, and fools appeal only to those that are weak minded.Realist
Realistically, each person would live this life in peace. Realistically, we would make 'love' only to reproduce, and wage war solely for survival. The weak would be killed, and the guilty condemned. Violence wouldn't mark the end of mankind, but the beginning. Realistically, we would live like animals in a world made for them.
Essentially, we life to find peace, and we


she belonged anyway.The high was much more than she had hoped for. It had clogged every one of her senses, and had numbed them to a state of euphoria. Every inch of her body felt as if it was floating away, far from all that she hated, and all that she loved. Below her, she could hear suave jazz music and the busy chatter of incandescent loiterers speaking in a tongue she didnt understand, even though it could have been her own native language.she belonged anyway.
The colors blurred as her body gained heat. Someone was slapping her and yelling for her to wake up; but she could care less. She was comfortably numb, and happy at the nothingness she was feeling. Some
| my greatest inspirations: love. |
by £deviantWEAR
by =iKate| Name: Paloma(: Age: sixteen Interests: poetry, reading and writing, singing, listening to music, watching the seasons change, and sunsets. Sports: colorguard Favorite Quote: "H o l d y o u r h e a d h i g h, h e a v y h e a r t ." My life is one that I plan to live fully. I will live as long as I can to see myself one day be the hero. Or in the end, fall and become the villain. |
| 46%
38%
8%
8%
|
--
Daisy, give yourself away...
--
Its all I see Please take it Its holding me,.Its more than me, .its killing me.Please take it away.I run it follows I speak it swallows I love,it breaks me. Its under me, Please take it away.Its watching me, Please take it awayblack light burns
--
The most successful serial killer of all time, is time itself.
Just thought Id depress you.
--
I have two socks for your information!
thanks for the fav.
really appreciate it.
--
Some say I'm sane,
some say I'm not,
some think I'm all lost,
I bet I'm just stuck.
--
It's Halloween girls and boys and I'll come and eat your brain
make avatars for free
--
Indeed, it is the psychotics who have all the fun.
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