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In desert of lifeOne rose. One single rose in desert.
One lie within one oafish life
One drop of blood fallen in darkness and time.
One single moon rising from debris upon an empty oasis.
One lonesome soul wanders in night,
Lost in dreams and memories from far beyond,
Reads rose's lies and promises of life.
One lost mortal searching for hope.
Constructing sanctified shack of loneliness,
Inside oasis of being, hovering from aria of night.
One single rose, one drop of blood,
One lost soul in endless desert
One more broken desire and abandoned hope...
Autumn preludeIm walking trough city.
Alone, forgotten and lonely.
Streets are hollow and empty.
Autumn. Rotten leafs and north wind.
As wind gets wilder dark leafs starts dancing.
Slowly gloomy rain falls down on pavement,
Sound of raindrops and heavy footsteps
Creates dull music of loneliness.
Empty. Too many thoughts in my head,
But a single fading wish.
To forget the past, to delete all those memories...
Light is fading away, it's getting cold.
Soon it will snow, snow flakes will bury the earth.
Pure and white but deadly and sinner.
I'll keep wandering in here,
I'll keep watching slow dance of immortality.
Sweet winter. Time of death and dead .
Awaited and loved by those who have fallen.
Ahhhh... This agony...
Im lost and falling... Falling to darkness...
One thought in my mind: to die.
To die and end it all...
I sense happiness dancing on my grave,
I feel relief and joy spitting on my dead body.
I walk further and further,
I walk away from my grave.
Wind gets stronger, it messes my hair,
Dark play of apathyApathy. Im going trough darkness again.
Pain. Im in mother's womb once more.
Melancholy. Im falling into black pit of sorrow.
I've lost my voice from screaming.
My tears are dry from crying.
I wish to travel to a hidden place,
I wish to see the stars and silver moon.
Lonely cry of crow echoes in ruins,
Where my life once thrived on.
I slowly creep to ancient forest,
As time old woods surrounds me.
Grey wolf sneaks from viewless depth,
His shining golden eyes raves to me,
I follow deadly sinner beast to deep obscurity.
I step on corpses which used to be my friends,
They once condemned me and now they are dead.
I walk trough them and mute pain stings my frozen heart.
I question all and seek my answer to what is life and what is death.
I smell poison herbs and see red burning fire,
My ethereal guide brought me to this snowy clearing,
Where dark dryads, nymphs and elves dances,
Where stood still undying ghouls, ghosts and demons
In those woods of mysterious silence.
And I step into holy ci
Revolt of MuteIm laying in the snow,
Cold, but not dead.
The sun is shining on my face,
It's burning me again.
Im trying to rise up, to fight for my life,
Im stuck deep within.
This is my battle, my battlefield.
This is my fight, my chance to rise.
I hear a silent scream in my ears,
I see the sun high above,
Grey snowflake falling down,
Dancing in the field of death.
Its my time to rise again,
It's my fight for life
In this deadly battlefield.
Loud collusion of ice and steel,
Fight against dying gods.
This is my tale, this is my story,
This is my battle in here.
Broken defense, fractured sword,
Fragment of steel, shattered arrow.
Screams for mercy, holy song
And the sun high above.
Betrayal of friends, dead bodies around.
Sacrifice of holy, death of saint.
Im buried in this battlefield,
Deep below the living ones.
Im lying in the snow, cold but not dead.
White sun high above my head,
Its burning me again.
And this battlefield of dying gods
Became our home.
MelancholyShe slowly drowns in sadness,
Her restless soul trapped in body.
She watches snowflakes die in rain,
Her green eyes lost the joy long ago.
She starts to sing in silence ,
Her room dark and empty
Now filed with sorrowful melody,
As thunder hits the ground.
She sits in darkness,
She watches the sky.
Her face and lips pale.
She wishes to fly,
She wishes to run,
She wishes to die.
Her voice echoes in emptiness,
Her voice echoes in darkness,
Her voice echoes in loneliness.
She closes her lifeless eyes,
Her bitter sweet melancholy takes her mind.
Her bitter sweet pain in her head.
She drowns in darknes,
She gives herself to emptiness
And offers her soul to loneliness.
As the wind goes wilder,
As the rain goes stronger
Her will to die just rises.
As the sun goes down
And the moon sets up,
She holds the razor in her hand.
As the snow falls down,
As the land goes white and dies
She cuts her veins.
As blood runs down from wounds,
She sings in silence.
As snow falls down,
She dies in darkness.
A fairytaleOnce upon a time old lady lived,
She was no witch nor evil spirit,
Her name was Veronica.
Her little wooden house stood in the woods,
Trees of ancient times surrounded it.
The lady had one hundred years,
Her hair was long and grey.
The lady lived alone in her little house,
Just little forest spirits came to her.
A little girl lost in the woods saw old lady's wooden house.
She gently knocked on the door,
her golden hair messed from nights cold wind,
Her green big eyes terrified with fear.
Old lady opened the creaking door and little girl came in.
She looked across the room and saw a coffin in the corner.
The coffin painted all in black.
The girl have asked the lady what was there,
The lady looked at the coffin and said to little girl.
There, young lady, lays my hopes, my dreams, my faith.
There, young lady, lays my youth and beauty.
There, young lady, lays my loved one.
My story is old as the time, dark as the night and cold as the ice.
I came to this world with blizzard, with ice in my
Creations Of The SoberA smirk crawls upon your face,
As the pretty bright blood leaks down your arm,
Part of you is whispering,
"what have I done..?"
But you can barely hear it over the demented laughter,
That is emerging from your throat.
Your whole body is shaking,
With fear or with excitement, still remains unknown,
You look down at the bodies around you,
Drowning within their own blood.
You clench your fist,
Digging your nails into your rough skin,
Until your royal blood starts to flow.
You begin to laugh louder,
Dragging your feet through the mixture of their blood,
You walk past them,
Leaving a murderous trail behind.
You simply pick up your weapon,
Licking off the remaining blood,
And tighten your grip around it,
Ready to attack,
Your best friend stands in the distance,
Eyes wide and mouth open,
He's too frightened to say a thing.
You flash a smile his way,
When you realize he's crying.
"T-Those w-were yo-ur f-friends.."
He trails off,
Silent tears rolling down his cheeks,
Jeff the KillerThere is a boy by the name of Jeff
Who likes to bring to others death.
His face is white like a snowy eve,
But no purity does his soul conceive.
His eyelids are missing for he burned them to black,
Black as his heart and his need to attack.
He'll forever smile with his carved in grin.
The only lifestyle he knows is sin.
His mind is frayed from insanity,
A concept that causes others to flee.
But he finds it beautiful and helps share his art
Of ripping his innocent victims apart.
He'll climb in your window in the dead of night.
There's no point in even trying to fight.
Hush now. No tears. Don't you dare make a peep.
It's time for you to go to sleep.
Home AloneSay something, I'm giving up on you.
I'm starting to believe every word was true.
I can hear the sound of the dial tone beeping
And I wonder if it's the sound of your lies sleeping.
The phone line is calling my nickname,
Asking me to scream in tune with its game.
I thought home was where I heard your heartbeat.
But this house is empty, desolate, bittersweet.
Don't say another word you don't mean,
For the poor paint caught envy, it's turning green.
Even the plaster is curdling with shame
At the sight of your face in a picture frame.
This house, it was ours, thick with false flowers.
I've been tearing up perfumed petals for hours.
This place is perfect for a funeral bride,
And I can attest that 'us' has died.
Just point to where I sign,
And I write it on the line of Divine.
Hush up before I stay here with you.
I need to find some oxygen, my soul is blue.
I'm not interested in dial tone morse.
You're past due on your bill of remorse.
Say nothing, I'm getting over you.
It's time I call up
Nothing MissingIf I said I missed you,
I'd be admitting that I breathed
On a time where seconds slipped free
When we were two halves wreathed.
But something can't be missed
If it never did exist.
That knife I will not twist
With my own remembering wrist.
There's nothing missing from my puzzle.
Those silent holes grow content
With the splatterart guzzle
I smear across the rent.
It's nice to live in a blindfold,
Carefully glued to be whole,
Listening to the tale I've told
Of well mannered dirt in a hole.
I leave no mossy stone turned,
For I need no compass to pave
The weary headstone of brave burned
On the chapped lips of your depraved grave.
Masque of the Black DreadMasque of the Black Dread
From Mask of the Red Death by Edgar Allen Poe
Far up yonder in the remotest reach
Of the vast sands of the Sahara
Where few if any men have ever walked
And nobody dared to dwell
There stood a castle of dark stone
Maybe obsidian or black quartz
And within the walls
The inhabitants, under the eye of the lord, Prince Faisal,
Partied throughout the night.
They raved and ranted for many nights
But neither came a soul to stop them,
Nor did anyone think to stop.
Then, one late night in October,
Maybe near All Hallows Eve,
He wore long gowns as black as the walls of the castle
And long flowing locks of dark brown hair
But most outstanding was his mask
A dark mask of somber features
Like no face seen anywhere in the world
Stranger still was that whoever looked upon this mask
Went finally, utterly mad
Faisal saw his guests descend
Into madness's depth
And demanded to know the identity of that mask
The guest spoke just one word
From Ulalume by Edgar Allen Poe
Far, far away
Where the eye cannot behold
There stretched a land of mystery
Now grown silent and old
Years ago when Bethmora was still young
The people danced, and sang and played
Life was good to all then
Nobody sighed in sorrow or dismay
One sullen night, a low wind blew in
Its air was hard and cold
So hard was it that not a soul would move
And it soon took its toll
By late December, hardly a soul was left upon the street
Those who felt it claimed they heard
A whisper, like the voice of Death
So until this time of which I spoke
Now Bethmora deserted lies
As the Candle BurnsAs the Candle Burns
From Lovecraft's "Whisperer in the Darkness"
He sat at his desk in the parlor
Pouring over a volume of lore
The author of which was not mentioned
As the candle he had lit burnt low
For a moment, he looked from the corner of an eye
At the shadows thrown on the wall
Then he saw something move among them
Creeping slowly towards his desk
His ears pricked nervously
A whisper issued in the darkness
It foretold of a future
Worse than what anyone could expect
"The Old Ones will be your future. I have come to start."
Melancholy of windMelancholic lullaby of wind,
And snowflakes are dancing to it,
Fast primeval ritual.
Frozen darkness around,
Silence and emptiness.
Everything is dead.
Cry of snow under numb feet,
Blood in blind eyes.
Nefarious prayer leaves wizen lips.
This is our dying world I hold in my hands
Rotten from inside, putrid from outside.
This is what we are dying for.
Darkness and emptiness, insanity among the sane.
They are falling into pit of affliction.
I am the one with them.
Im falling, im falling down.
Lost and empty, broken and mended.
Im falling into silence of sanity.
Listen to lullaby,
Melancholical scream of wind.
An outcry of despair.
Im gone with first sunrise and dead with first moonlight.
Lonely, fallen, lost and hidden under my skin.
From ashes to worm, from worm to ashes.
Winter... Sacrifice of life trough ceremony of cold.
I wish to be defunct,
I wish I had a malfunction of reason.
To get lost inside demise,
To drown in silence
And decease in obscurity...
Melancholic lullaby of wind,
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.
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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