Clock strikes midnight and Im locked up tight again,
Sitting at my computer but I dont see the screen,
Eyes half closed, mind half closed,
Tears fall faster than blood it seems.
This is not a twisted cry for attention,
This is my way of relieving tension.
Your self-harm is my self-help therapy,
I am not broken, so don't try to fix me.
This is sadness,
And this is happiness,
Little cuts of blissful brightness,
I sometimes wonder why I ever fight this.
Clock strikes midnight and Im on the floor again,
Laughing endlessly while alcohol numbs my brain.
Mind stops talking, I start talking,
All I need's drugs to make it better, it seems.
The rooms half blurred and the people are bright,
Pick me up and use me, no need to be polite.
I wont remember your face, I do not know your name,
So don't worry, you won't see me again.
This is stupidity,
And this is happiness.
Little joyful drugs to stunt my alertness.
I sometimes wonder why I ever fight this.
Clock strikes midnight and Im lying with you again,
My eyes wide open as you're lost in dreams.
Head stops working, but I don't stop hurting,
A brand new method of harm, it seems.
Your touch is electricity down my spine,
Your voice, so harsh, echoes through my mind.
Seeing you gets me higher than drugs would,
But you with her hurts more than any knife could.
This is pain.
But is this happiness?
Tears of joy mixed with pure distress.
I sometimes wonder why I never fight this.














Comments
--
~*without death there are no true heros, without loss there is no true love*~
Thats why I told you I stopped.
Because you just tell me its for 14 year olds.
--
~I died inside my own head, and I'd die again, for you~
sorry im short today im rele rele fucked off. please bare with me tonight.
--
~*without death there are no true heros, without loss there is no true love*~
--
~*without death there are no true heros, without loss there is no true love*~
Makes me happy to have imagination enough to write something though ^.^
--
~I died inside my own head, and I'd die again, for you~
I only just found this, I tend not to look through the watchlist on other people's deviations, as for the most part they are either worthless anime fan fiction by people I can't remember, or the overly proliferate craziness of dedicated artists who already get enough attention from others.
My apologies, had I known, I'd have read it sooner ^^
Knowing your feelings and situations as I do, I find myself biased.. I do not know if it would seem such a skillfully descriptive and meaningful poem if I lacked my prior knowledge of the subject matter.
However.. I find myself thinking the difference in my appreciation would be minimal, as long as I knew and cared about the subject of it's words, as I certainly do.
You sacrifice a little artistic clarity, but the payoff is an extremely interesting and well-explained portrayal of the weird workings of the Emmarine mind, while still maintaining a good rhythm and flow.
It.. works.
Well done, Emarael ^_^
*reads again*
And ambiguous enough to intrigue me on a personal level.. *smiles to himself*
Once again, my apologies for the late comment, I had no obligation, but had I thought to keep up to date, I would assuredly have spoken sooner
People should always do things like this.. Show the workings of their mind through art. Everything should be art... I like to make everything art.
--
"You're like a brooding, British Marquis de Sade.." - XerxesRah
- the Jakk of all arts.
Thank you for your nice words ^.^
"I do not know if it would seem such a skillfully descriptive and meaningful poem if I lacked my prior knowledge of the subject matter." - Says you.
It was not meant to be skillful. This was me explaining my weirdness, nothing more. I am like you in that sense, I like to make everything art.
Ive run out of imaginary things to write about, I thought Id have a go of something I am actually feeling.
--
~I died inside my own head, and I'd die again, for you~
--
"You're like a brooding, British Marquis de Sade.." - XerxesRah
- the Jakk of all arts.
Previous PageNext Page