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Don't RegretTime I lost,
Time I spent.
Time I'll never see again,
Time I don't regret.
Memories I made,
Memories I gained.
Memories I love and hate,
Memories I don't regret.
Love I found,
Love I lost.
Love I fondly remember,
Love I don't forget.
Sadness I had,
Sadness I caused.
Sadness I wished to never be,
Sadness I don't regret.
Life I lived,
Life I was.
Life I made the best I could,
Life I don't regret.
HimHe didn't stay,
He walked away.
Her heart was torn,
It was she that he did scorn.
He said, "Go away!",
Like trash, She was castaway.
She sobbed through the night,
Her future seeming the opposite of bright.
Her stomach churned,
Yet her heart still burned.
He didn't give a outward care,
Though he caught her heart in this snare.
She said she loved him,
But did he say it back on just a whim?
She kissed him once, twice, then yet again,
But he turned out to be just like the other men.
Art Trade- goldenthymeIt was a good day. Riza clipped Black Hayate's leash onto his collar, and picked up a bag which went into her pocket for the dog’s droppings. It had been nearly a year and a half since all the commotion caused by the homunculi, so it was now safe from all construction to go out at anytime.
They stepped out of the door, Black Hayate keeping pace right beside Riza, heeling as he had been taught by his mistress. They walked down the sidewalk, stopping occasionally for Black Hayate to sniff, or do his business. Many people greeted Riza and Black Hayate as they strolled along, the baker, the florist, neighbors, and children of the street. It had been like this for a few weeks now. People were friendlier, wanting to talk to everyone. Almost as if they were seeking comfort from each other. Like everything was okay and back to the life they knew.
Looking up Riza saw that, without realizing it, she had led Black Hayate and herself to Central's military headquarters. As was her usual walki
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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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