|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Would you call me mad?What’s wrong, a question on my mind too often.
I don’t know, however I do know the feeling I have to bear every day.
The heavy weight chaining down my weak heart.
The constant scratching of claws across my body.
The lump in my throat trying to bring back the tears.
The constant fights with my head and chest.
The list is endless.
My body is weak,
my mind is no longer sane,
I just want to brake free.
I want to release this burning rage
bubbling inside me.
I just want to scream.
The smash of glass bottles -Chapter IThe smash of glass bottles wake me up. I hear my Mum and Step-dad yelling at each other, obviously they’d been drinking. I hear my mother’s deafening scream. My step-dad is yelling at her, his vicious tone sends shivers down my spine. I find myself in a state of panic. I want to protect my mum, but what if he hits me..Like last time. I squeeze my pillow around my head, trying to bloke out the blood-curdling screams. It’s impossible, the noise cuts through the pillow like a razor sharp knife, clearer than ever. “STOP IT! YOU’RE HURTING ME! PLEASE STOP!” Tears of pain and helplessness stream down my face as I
..I always wanted to be grown up..I always wanted to be grown up, have a boyfriend and give him hugs and kisses… Play games with him, look up at the clouds with… be free with.
I thought the future only held rainbows and marshmallows. My mind was obviously blissfully unaware of heart break, regret and deceit.
I wish I could be the innocent child I was once, the naïve one, the one who couldn’t possibly bare such pain, the one who blocked reality out with fairy tales and stuffed toys.
However I have grown out of my little princess dresses and Cinderella shoes, I have grown into high heels and short dresses. My bewilderedness has been cleared; I sadly
Pains still therePains still there, i thought it would go away with you in my life
However i was wrong, you've stacked more problems onto the pile,
The butterflies in my stomach have turned into knifes, and my shaking hands from nervs, are shaking from fear.
Your intentions grow deeper with lust, as mine are to escape from your cold grip.
I thought the world of you, i thought you were i saint.
Yet i now just see a stereotypical teenage boy with the devils smile and intentions.
The TypewriterThe Typewriter
It began and ended with a word.
Not a particularly strong or powerful word, but a word that changed everything. It wasn't too long or difficult to spell. It wasn't uncommon either. In fact, it was a perfectly ordinary word, but, I suppose, its commonplace origin is what made it so special.
I loved that word.
But the word doesn't mean much without the story along with it and I was always one for telling good stories.
I ignored the call from the other room and remained seated. That tone wasn't unfamiliar. Taking a bite from my toast, I waited for him to call again. It wouldn't be more than ten—
"Sammy! Come q
Keep in Touch!
`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More