Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

literature

My Dear, Please...

Deviation Actions

WordOfChen

Published: Dec 6, 2016

36.6K Views

Literature Text

You're tired right now.

I can tell from your eyes;

You simply wish to sleep and never wake

You need a relief from this life,

You need to find your own little space.

But my dear I beg you,
don't vanish without a trace...

More by WordOfChen

Literature

Invincible

I am a laborer of dreams and I'm building up a pyramid. The ghosts might try to kill me but I learned to always live with it. The fragile thoughts that draw you to the edge of your ill mind; Believe when I say that giving up would be a true crime. The only thing that you should do is plow ahead forward, No stepping back because I got your back and that's a foreword An introductory paragraph to what it means to me, when I have always told you that we are going to be:

Recommended Literature

Literature

I Didn't Know

I didn't know what to say So I said nothing As it turns out That was the worst thing I could have said

Literature

Validating Your Tears (I'm Sorry)

But what you don't know is that I am frustrated that I can't write a poem about the thorns growing on my veins or icebergs rooting in my heart. I can't write about the void in me when he no longer plays me Beethoven's music or sings me out of tune songs. Because there is none. I didn't feel anything when he left. Truth is, I want to feel crushed and heart broken, because at least sadness could prove that I did love him and that what he said about me never loving him is wrong.

Literature

dearly beloved

these days your name has been slipping in and out of my rib cage and sometimes, my heart forgets to beat. it's funny, i suppose— how even after all these months i still don't want to believe that you're dead. how during the first couple of weeks i prayed to a god i didn't believe in and begged to know if death tasted sweet to you. how once, when the monsters in my head didn't let me sleep, i wrote you three poems and then destroyed four. you were a supernova that lit up my life for a few radiant moments before, like all good things in this filthy world, you came to an end. the sinner in me hopes that you have wings now. but i th

Suggested Collections

Stories and Poems

Literature

My Life Story Isn't A Poem

This is what it feels like to crumble down in a blazing squall. You are muffled gunshots wrecking yourself in high speed collision with his brass armor. You compress every eruption by choking ashes and swallowing shatter glasses because god forbid you are a frostbitten girl with hitched breath and messed up mascara and god forbid you are explosive and god forbid you crumble down because no, you are an inspiration and you are clenched fist and sculpted chest, you are concrete and you are statue, you are the ice cold dusk and YOU DON

Literature

Why Books Suck

Let me write you a story of all you want to hear. Of intercourse and romance, drugs and beer. Of simple plots and story devices, where no thinking is required. I'll even make it into a series, everything you've desired. Pick it up in the middle, why not? It's all the same. So-and-so get together, there's sex on every page. It's the best story in the world, and it only took me six days! Don't worry about morals, there's none to be learned. If you hate life-long lessons, then enjoy every word. The characters are flat with the basic of descriptions, with no voice of their own. If one dies, no tears will be shed, there's another just arou

Literature

to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub.

i. to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub: in the magazine I own that published your story, they blurred out the crime scene photographs, erasing your face and the full curves of your breasts. some part of me wonders if you would have wanted this, or if you would have liked for the public to see you in your final moments, half-soaked in grey-looking water, your hair in strings, glued to the porcelain, eyes closed and mouth gaping, no breath stirring, no bubbles rising. ii. sometimes when I look into the depths of my bathroom sink, I hear your voice (or what I imagine it to be-- after all, we never met). you sit on the edge

Literature

A Life Lacking Autism - 1

Tonight (Sol) Sol has tiptoed halfway down the stairs when he hears his baba's voice from the living room. "I spoke with Mx. Ramirez over the phone. They think we should see a specialist." "I don't know." Mama sounds frustrated. "I don't think there's anything wrong with him... he's just different. A little quirky." "Honey... his teacher works a lot of kids. They have basic training to identify disorders in children. And our son..." Baba's voice cracks. "He's showing a lot of the signs. You remember the incident yesterday." Sol sits frozen. His parents hadn't said anything when they brought him home early from school that day. They'd sighe

Literature

Tomorrow, Today

The world forgot about human beings, leaving a landscape populated with wind, rain, and the tiny clicks of gears. A doughnut machine continues to deliver freshly baked doughnuts by conveyor belt to a large rotting pile, until it’s delivered by a self-driving dumpster to an incinerator. Errand running personal robots keep busy by sweeping the same spot over and over, until they’ve worn clean through and require the floor maintenance machine to replace the hardwood. Terraforming vehicles continue to reshape the landscape, building places which will never be touched by human hands, shaking the ground with heavy construction, kno

Literature

Mute

There once was a girl who knew not how to speak The muscles in her throat were too fragile and weak She wanted to sing but could not make a noise She found herself bullied and teased by the boys Saddened and crying, head down as she'd walk To herself, she would think "How I wish I could talk!" Little did she know, speaking would only waste breath The boys would not hear her, for they were all deaf

writings

Literature

I am not...

I am not... beautiful unique talented an angel of any kind happy I am... depressed and lonely putting up a facade I wear a mask Just like the rest of us Going through my days Pretending Just like everyone else

Literature

cry for...

cry for... the girl who sees fat in all the wrong places and wishes for a way to eliminate it quickly the boy who strayed popping pills like candy nearly drowning in sorrow and creating a single red line the girl who feels deformed no matter what you see in her how lovely she truly is she's convinced it's all lies the boy who has to hide himself and holds more secrets than you know but let's me see inside his heart and stays strong for us both the girl who just wants love but keeps doing it the wrong way she may not see it but i can and she needs help before it's too late cry for us, strangers to you but not to others

Literature

Depression is an Option

Depression is a choice, my dear, And happiness the same You choose this illness, don’t you? What a tragic little game. Depression is an option, love Just get up out of bed Take your tears and worries And just smile now instead. Depression is a choice, you see, And so is suicide. Just sit back, kick your feet up, dear Enjoy this perfect ride. Get over your own standards Of what everyone should be. Just smile for once, and maybe You’ll be living perfectly. ... But... Depression is an illness That we feel so deep within. Why would anybody choose To write poetry on their skin? Unless there lies a reason, dear, I would not choo

Featured in Groups

Create-Write-Live

TheWriterGang

emotional literature poem poetry sad sorrow sorrowful

Hey everyone,

Okay, sooo I decided not to do a visual poetry piece today (mostly because I didn't have time to grab an image), but I still wanted to release something, so here, have this ^^

I honestly would like to write something longer, but I'm very short on time right now (T3T)

- Chennie

P.S.

If you'd like to support