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Feline FatalityEyes sealed shut,
With limbs struggling to-
I feel wetness;
On my nose.
And a tickling sensation-
Upon my twenty newborn toes.
I think I have fur;
And a tail that likes to move
Soon I'll be able to see,
And soon you'll say good bye to me.
I'm eight lives shy-
Of our lifespan's expectancy.
I Counted To Three.Just like you asked me to.
Your curiously distanced kiss;
Tracing my thin plumped lips.
I think I knew-
You were leaving;
Before I opened my eyes.
I began to miss you,
I heard your fast paced footsteps cease.
SoapscumSticky spiderwebs decourate our moldy shower walls extravagantly.
With skin so hot,
From heated water:
Pounding down my bare back.
I feel so cold.
Hands shake from lack of sugar in my-
Blue blood stream,
That sometimes leaks,
Razors that make my skin scream in,
Pruny from standing here so long.
Waiting for you-
To come save me.
75 Cents.I will smile bright-
With Black and-
Blotchy polka dots;
On the inside of my seemingly,
I've got wings
Strung up on-
And my halo;
It was plastic-
My Face's Perspective.Covered in a casual masquerade mask-
Mascara smears my stubborn lashes a darker black.
Accidental tears curiously crawl out-
Smearing my painted eyes hidden from other's sight.
Stranger danger attention brings obnoxious embarrassment-
And heat stains my usually uncoloured cheeks a pale pink.
Often I feel I cannot breathe;
As she covers me day after day continuously.
Then there's those awkward moments before our mirror-
I see myself bare,
Only to find I don't recognize myself.
Looking sad without a painted smile-
I think she sees her non-existent dad.
Prematurely Beautiful.She lays-
Cold and limp;
With stained hands laid out,
Rusty nails embedded-
Alike to God’s poor son;
Whom some pray to-
On two faced knees.
-In her skin.
Eight feet (b)‘low;
Where we take in our-
Damp need to live.
Her child eyes hold the stain,
Of plain pain-
And faked half assed joy;
Of a life where she lived in a house full of old men.
With not her,
But the blush dusted sea shell she had as her face’s skin.
Schizophrenia Is Me.Whisper, whisper - Dear, can you hear?
Into my ear,
They scream- frown,
"Turn (the) volume down!"
Psst... The volume is off dear,
Do you feel fear?
Shh, for you are-
One of us- stars.
Shining bright- invisible,
But only for,
A few hours more.
I Lost Myself.Somewhere;
Within the ocean's-
Overly sensitive serenity.
I can feel,
My twisted innards unwillingly-
As our burning sun-
Falls beneath a cotton candy horizon.
I'm fishing for my (anchor adorned) sinking personality-
But I think I lost track of my wiggling bait a long time ago.
Skeletons For The Poised.Cracked windows standing with frames falling halfway off watch-
Dusty cotton masses blow by wishing to fly but cursed by gravity.
Mousy mumbles bounce from paper thin often gossiping walls;
Once held so high in surgically plastic esteem for the filthy rich and their condemned souls.
They hired a fancy wall painter and forgot his name-
More worried about their death adorned secrets known to no living being for long.
They are telling a warning-
You may catch a deathly glimpse,
Of the haunted past,
And see the violence that-
Stained these walls a tainted red.
There is no heaven-
There is no hell.
There's just reality;
five.Five is the number of times you worry he’s stopped breathing, as the surgeons carve around his heart, twisting away the plaque ridden arteries, and pulling a vein out of his leg. Five is the number of heart wrenching hours you and your family were waiting in the hospital room, worried that your lives would crumble, that there would be five members of the family instead of six, that five days out of the week he would not come home for dinner, that five kisses from him would no longer be given to his wife and four children. Five was the amount of fingernails you bit off while watching people enter and exit the waiting room, and the amount of minutes your mother spent on the phone, explaining that something was wrong. Five is the critical difference between holding a father’s hand as your mother cries into his heart shaped pillow. The difference between rejoicing and smiling weakly because he’s okay or carrying your father’s American-flag-covered-casket and watchin
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More