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Do Not DisturbLocked doors without a handle
Pulled blinds without a latch
Tucked away to be forgotten
Turn the key and walk away.
Best left alone behind stone walls
With one way glass and silent eyes
Protected from the secrets of her mind.
Don't knock for entry or tap the glass
Don't rouse the beast and bring a storm
Leave broken hearts unmended
And tender souls untouched
Defend yourselves until the end.
Walk by doors and private places
Ignore the ever spreading silence
Allow the girl to be herself
Allow the girl to be alone.
Proceed no further into quarantine
Reduce the risk of your infection
Do not disturb the dormant hatred
Let these fears and angers rest
Keep doors now locked secure
Do not disturb the girl.
This I Believe: My Sob Story"My Sob Story"
Everyone has one. Not everyone shares it, or allows themselves to brood on the negative things in their life to develop it for themselves, but we all have one. I believe in the importance of telling them rather than letting them simmer.
At the young and tender age of eleven my dad was diagnosed with colon cancer. My mom worked hard to make money for our family and keep up with medical bills, but all on her own she had a hard time doing everything. Sometimes she wouldn't come home until my seven siblings and I had long since gone to bed, so we relied on the feeble cooking skills of my two elder sisters. Many times members from our church would drop by with sympathy food; we only had to hope we didn't burn down the house warming it up.
In the mornings before school we really only had a few minutes to be with our mom, and that was only after I had gone around to wake all my younger siblings, and if you're not already aware, getting tired stubborn children to wake up in the
The PianoI remember the first time I saw a piano. No, that's not right. I remember the first time I heard a piano.
The old thing was horribly out of tune and broken down, but something in the melody pulled at my heart and I was drawn in immediately.
I couldn't tell you who was playing it, nor could I tell you what song they were playing; I only know that it was beautiful and haunted, and in that moment I fell in love. The sound was imperfect and the composition flawed. For the first time it seemed that something in this world was as damaged as I was.
Following my ears and the gentle tugging at my soul, I found myself standing at the threshold of the room with the piano that was falling apart at the seams. Keys were missing, the strings exposed, and the pedals had been disconnected, lying limply on the floor.
Looking at its broken appearance I felt almost sorry for it. Such a beautiful tool reduced to junk with under-appreciation. Shaking off my pity I inched into the room and over to get a bett
The Right WordsFrom the tip of my tongue
to the tip of my pen
these fingertips begin to type.
Can't voice these words
so I let the ink flow
and I pound down on letters
until I've let it all go.
Be it anger or joy
these words come from somewhere
and I don't write for pity
for I write from my passions.
Listen as I speak
and understand these words I scribe
for once clicked in and sent
I'm ready to be heard.
Ideas just out of reach
I search and think for words
out loud they cannot form
yet inside they pulse with strength.
The way things should be
and the way they are
are far from hand-in-hand
as I fear my peers' rejection
who can't hear the meaning of my words.
Are you there?
Can I reach you?
Or are the words I need
just barely out of reach?
Keep in Touch!
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