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Not every love story has a happy endingHe didn't want to. He really didn't. But when given the choice between the death of his entire clan, or the death of a single human The choice was clear.
They had spent most of the day together; Gil had showed the other the beauty of things most humans didn't notice about the sea; he had even gone so far as to have offered him a tour under the sea of the most beautiful unknown places he knew of.
But the day was now coming to an end; the day's time he was given to kill his best and only friend.
They were lying on a stone by the water, relaxing as the sun set. Gil asked to excuse himself for a moment, and when he was out of sight of the other, he laced his lips with a plant's juices that was fatal to humans, before coming right back.
"Can I tell you a secret?" The siren leaned down so their noses were barely touching.
He blushed, "S-sure! You can tell me anything, Gil!" The other chirped sweetly, innocently, which forced a stabbing pain of guilt into the sea-dwe
A Beautiful NightIt was a beautiful night, and a young woman who went by the name of Miran decided she would take advantage of that. Strolling through the park, she got lost in thought, soon not paying attention to where she was going. Of course, this caused her to trip, falling towards the ground. She closed her eyes, waiting for impact, though it never came. Slowly opening her eyes, she found herself face-to-face with a man, about her age, who she could have sworn she knew.
"Are you alright, Miss?" He asked, seeming as off as Miran.
The brunette nodded, gaining her balance once again, "Y-yes, thanks to you "
"Good," the man smiled at her, "I wouldn't want you hurt, a pretty girl like you. My name is Yao, may I ask for yours?"
"I'm Miran," she smiled back shyly, a blush covering her face, "Thank you for catching me, Yao."
"Beautiful name, fitting for a beautiful lady," He charmed, "And don't think anything of it, I couldn't just let you fall on your face."
Again, Miran blushed, trying her best no
Wooden Dolls PrologueSomewhere deep in the depths of a place many never wish to see, a black-winged figure is hard at work on her newest creation. This will make her the most loved of any of her king's minions, a gift unlike any other. Carefully crafting each to the exact detail, she ties each hair by hand. They have to be perfect. Setting them aside to let the paint dry, the demon takes small pieces of bright red string from a container, each labeled in its own bag. She carefully imbeds the thread into each of her creations, before carefully crafting each a box to rest in. Finally she was finished, admiring her work.
Eight small wooden dolls lay on her crafting table, each looking exactly as the person they were meant to be. She carefully lays each into their boxes, and spreads her wings, carrying them off to visit the boss.
"What are they?" He questioned, staring at the small figures incased in their glass-lidded prisons.
"The perfect way to reap any mortal's soul before their time." She smirked, "If the
Ryou's Problem (Your Problem parody)Sorry I treated you like an angel,
What else did you want me to do?
Sorry I treated you like you're perfect,
And smiled when I spoke to you
Sorry I couldn't be sexy,
Am I just not enough for you?
Is that what you do when I'm missing?
That must be such an inconvenience to you, well,
I'm just your problem,
I'm just your problem,
It's like I was, not even with you,
I'm just your problem
Well, I shouldn't have to check in on you,
I shouldn't have to be there to keep you,
I'm sorry that I exist,
I don't know what landed me on your blacklist,
But I shouldn't have to be the one that makes up with you, so,
Why do I want to? Why do I want to
We'll always be watching you...Judging eyes watch her, as she walks down the path. She takes a deep breath, shaking slightly. She's the new girl, the fresh meat, the prey. Little does she know how true that really is.
She is lead into the building, shocked by the lack of lights. She knew this was a night school, but she was unaware there were no lights allowed on. She is welcomed by a teacher, and notes that she is being watched more like a new toy than a new student.
"Where is my room?"
"We'll get to that, follow me."
She is lead by the teacher a man in his mid twenties into a large, completely black room.
"Where are we?"
"You'll see soon enough."
She nods, and allows herself to be practically pushed into a chair. She hears movement, and jumps in shock when her wrists are grabbed, and strapped with rough leather to the chair.
The lights come on, and she screams.
"Hush child, it'll be over soon "
Grey, bloodshot eyes open to the darkness. Jumping to her feet, she stands before her new master.
Becoming the killer I once wasHe was the star,
Who kept me in the light,
He was the one,
Who made me not need to fight.
Now that he's gone,
I don't need to be kind,
Now that he's left,
I can leave this behind.
But I'll never forget,
The reason I now fight,
Is because my little angel,
Has now faded from life.
He was the star,
Who kept me in the light,
And now that he's gone,
I will enter the fight.
He Hid AwayLet me tell you,
Of a young teen,
Who's life to him,
Has no mean
He'd never say,
He hid away
He was shot down,
With bloody cries,
He hit the ground
Now pushed away,
By the evil things,
That people say
Let me tell you,
Of a young teen,
Who's life to him,
Had no mean
He'll never say,
He hid away,
He hid away
It can ruin a friendship,
And break a heart.
It can cause tears to fall,
And turn ever the brightest soul bitter.
It can make you do terrible things,
And cause you to hurt those you love.
What is this I'm speaking of?
This feeling that causes so much pain?
It's the bittersweet feeling,
Violet Eyes - ProloguePrologue; letter never to be sent
Dear Violet Eyes,
I was thinking of you again. I don't think there's a day that's gone by without you popping into my mind. It seems like forever since I bumped in to you, but really it's only been a few days haha, who knew time could move so slowly when you're in Never mind.
Anyways, I miss you a lot. Sometimes I wish you'd just talk to me, but I know that'll never happen, and I'm much too shy to go say hi so I guess these letters have to do.
I'll write to you again soon!
HauntedI see her there with
Coal dust carved
Into the icy skin
Under her eyes,
And on her lips
Dance a chorus
Of bitter lies.
A skeletal hand of smoke
Claws at my neck
Until I bleed;
She tells me that the pain
Is just what I need.
And her blood
Zooms in her veins
Like speeding cars.
She looks at me
At what I am.
She’s a snake,
In the guise
Of a lamb.
‘What happened to us?’
Of what I used to be.
‘I may be you,
But you are not me.’
The sun comes up:
Yesterday is gone
But see it this way;
The past is part of the future
But the future isn’t the past.
You choose which bits go,
You choose which bits last.
How to love a poet: Expect them to be flawed,
a field of wild flowered-
& an inability
Love them anyway.
Know that when they look at you
they are noticing the little things.
I Saw a Burning ManIn front of my house, he sat.
Skin burnt off, now charred and black.
Hesitantly, I walked outside.
And he followed me with his watery eyes.
With steps as nimble as the snow,
I hid my fear and continued to go.
Now before him, the Burning Man.
I kindly offered him my shaky hand.
No malice nor vice leaked off of him,
rather sadness and agony which simmered below his skin.
I could feel it around me, the pain and despair,
yet, physically the man was nearly repaired.
For his scorched skin was not his problem,
instead the bottled emotions that devoured all of him.
“Would you like to come inside sir, and stay?”
In which he replied by looking away.
Again I asked, and received no reply,
and was startled when the man began to cry.
Unsure of what to do, I walked away,
Yet I’ll never forget what happened that day.
Be it from pain, or mute, or undisclosed desires,
I watched as the man was engulfed in fire.
I stood back in awe, with my mouth agape,
and feared that he had fallen into
little victories.when i was younger,
i thought i was the strongest
little girl in the world
because i could easily
beat my older brother
at arm wrestling.
it wasn't until years later
that i realized
And There Was Lighti.
He was seventeen when he died.
I never went to the funeral
but I walked past it the day of
the service. His mother
was in the backseat of a blue Dodge,
door open, head in her hands.
"My baby," she kept repeating.
"My baby." It would go from sobbing, to
screaming, to a soft whisper that
I could only hear being carried
on the wind.
It was a Wednesday afternoon that they found
his old red pickup truck parked
out front of Slim's, two beer bottles in
the back and the windows cracked to let the stale
I heard that his dad told the police he was
gonna take that old truck and fix it up, because
he had promised his son before—
because it's always in the before—
And in the after, his mother never had dry eyes
and I'm pretty sure my mom told me
that she saw his dad at the bar every night,
drinking his sorrows down because some people can't
handle the stress.
Some people can't figure out why their son would
"Some men just want to w
in which I gain sentiencesave room
for doubt, in the silence between
religious guilt and stolen
body heat. I am made of helium.
in my dreams they
pop me and
watch me flutter. I wonder if everyone
else’s head is so congested as mine,
hyperactive with inattentive people.
you are never serious--
he stares at me in a different
set of eyes; there are words
I cannot say, there are
things I cannot tell you.
(twice a week
I watch the people I love
leave me for good.
spiders in my throat,
You Ever Felt ItHave you ever felt it?
When you lay there broken
And feel yourself so guilty
Eyes gushing red
And you want to sleep in a coma
Your brain swelling with thoughts
At the same time empty with nothing
When you can't suit yourself
And see yourself a place among the demons
that moment when you control your life
The moment when you choose between life and death
And then you yourself can decide either way
It's when you're on the edge
And want someone to pull you back before you make another step
A hook, to rip all the insanity out of your body
And suck all the madness that is growing black dead trees
Have you ever felt it, have you known depression
Did you ever seek a source of help, and did you ever find it
I should have turned awayI should have just turned away.
But you wouldn't let me.
Everything about you was calling to me; from your eyes, which were a lustful brown, to your shinning silver-blue hair.
Why wouldn't you let me turn away?
Because now look at the mess it's got us both in.
Why couldn't you let me leave before we began?
Now look at you; you're hurt because of me.
And I cry every dawn and dusk, just because I hurt you.
So when I look back on our first encounter, I can't help but smack myself.
I should have just turned away.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More