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Stick and Stones, LoveSticks and stones,
May break my bones.
But words can do much more.
I find them scribbled on notes strewn about,
And I hear your voice when I read them to myself.
They come in soft whispers,
Or thunderous shouts of anger.
They can inspire a masterpiece
Fueled by joy or pain.
They're sung sweetly in sunshine
Or bitterly in rain.
They can serve to begin or end
Something wonderful or terrible.
They are how I know you.
The bridges between our minds.
They are the art of the commoner.
You're lips, a brush, you're words, the strokes
The air is your canvas.
You paint your perception with your voice,
Giving me a portrait of what my eyes could never see.
Will you show me who you are or who you want to be?
With your words, you
Can tell the truth or fool me.
You create or destroy.
With your words,
You love or hate,
You give or you take.
Your words are your choice.
There is life and death.
In the power of your voice.
sweeping across the snow
left me a feather
and away he goes
and away he goes
drifting up on the air
but I seem to be stuck here
melting in the cold
cannot rip my eyes from the sky
cannot get my fists to unfold
the words have frozen to our tongues
that's what happens to winter love
so you think this feather is enough to make a wing
so you try to free me from it,
but your claws only sting.
i walk away
come to regret every footfall
but I can't keep you down
because you're up
and I'm frozen to the ground
laying pale in the snow
he can soar no more
you didn't have to do that
have to fall on your own sword
cut your wings apart
to get me back home.
and as I see you freeze
I know now what it is I believe
that someone could give up everything
come down to the winter
do you know the secret, Bird?
learn to live with the cold
though you turn blue
the heart beats hot inside of you
I know it
Small Miracles and FragmentsWe exist in fragments,
and we exist for the small miracles,
frost on the windowpane,
swirling lights in the fog,
the thrum of nature under our palms.
Can't you hear the heartbeat?
Buried deep, I wish for flowers to crawl up
straight from your tortured ribcage,
I wish for roses from your heart.
I wish for the earth to take you tenderly,
and for you to want something better than
the questionable nature of cut-throat genetics,
punching in codes of destruction,
splitting, and splitting,
until they split you out of existence.
You have defied them,
those broken repeated cells do not define you.
You may sleep,
but you still exist in small miracles,
and in fragments.
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More