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Don't Get SentimentalDon't get sentimental, darling
Because nothing seems to stay
Even if you love it, love
It always runs away
Try not to get attached, my dear
Or it will bite you in the rear
Don't you care too much, or else
It all will fall apart, it melts
Don't get sentimental, darling
For I fear it will soon fade
Instead, be strong, move on, don't stay
If you need help, I'll be your aid
Why is Being Gay wrong or Right?So I want to do a little test. And in order to do it, people need to cooperate. I want to know from you: do you think that being gay is wrong or right, and why? Everybody who reads this, please comment and contribute by supporting your stance. I want to do a bit of a tally. Alright? Ready, set, GO!
Look in the MirrorLook in the mirror
There it is!
Smile at it, it will smile back
Make a face
Look at those gorgeous eyes
The beauty mark
It's all perfect
Meant for your face
It goes well
So don't put yourself down about it
How were you supposed to help it?
And there's a reason
My Heart ShakesAnd so do my hands
You walk by me
I want the courage
To walk up to you
Every time I build it up
You knock it down
With cold eyes
One cruel glance
But I can still dream
Slender Son - finalIt hurts. Everything hurts. I am in an apartment. Had I fallen asleep in the woman’s car? How could I have done that? She could be against me. I look around, my neck aching a little bit. I am at the tail-end of my growth spurt. The major pain has subsided. This apartment is neatly furnished, for a woman with no family to live with. All white walls, white and glass décor. Even the couch that I am laying on is a weird egg-shell color.
Stand, I encourage myself. You need to stand and find a way out. Just then, the woman walks into the room. I lay my head down and pretend to still be passed out there. She walks over and leaves water on the coffee table next to where I lay. She then returns to the other room. I sit up. Is the water safe? Am I thirsty enough to want to find out? No. I am not.
I stand and walk over to the room that the woman has entered. Peeking in, I glance around, making sure that I am not spotted. This is the kitchen. Backing away from that doorway, I head to
I don't understandI do not understand why religious people and athiests need to fight. Both can make good arguments, and both can make bad arguments. But if you don't want somebody to make fun of you, or hate you, or argue with you, or anything like that, because of what you believe, don't make fun of what others believe. I am agnostic, but I don't try to fight with people about whether or not anything is true or false. I don't try to convert people to agnosticism (i've never really heard a word for it, so i made one up) because that's what I believe personally. Everybody has a right to defend their beliefs, but not by bashing others. Who cares if you're an athiest? Who cares if you're a christian (besides God, I guess)? It shouldn't be what you believe that is important on a website like this. This is a website for art, not slander of religions. Hating on somebody for what they believe and telling them they are ignorant is not art. Save it for a better time, please. Thank you.
Three wishesWhat would your three wishes be?
If you had three wishes
What would those wishes be?
Perhaps to live forever
You know, immortality?
Or how about a pair of wings
To lift you to the sky?
Or maybe meet your Prince Charming
A dashing, handsom guy?
Or what about telepathy
Secret access to the mind?
Read the thoughts of others
Or control them from inside?
What about world wide peace
To protect the Earth from war?
Or save the lives of innocent
From those who break the law?
Then there's also time travel
Why not revisit your time line?
Or maybe even time control
Now thats what I call "killing time!"
If you had three wishes
Which wishes would you choose?
Hurry up, the genie's waiting
You've got no time to lose!
So tell me, if you had three wishes what would you wish for?
Thinking of YouToday I drew a figure
A figure made of lines
When I'm glad he smiles
When I'm mad he dies.
The thing about this figure
This figure that I drew
On days that I am really mad
I just pretend it's you.
Writing TherapyWith nicotine-stained lungs,
And her heart on her sleeves.
With star-like eyes,
And sin-kissed lips.
She pours her soul into meaningless scripts.
With her head buried in the clouds,
She screams her thoughts aloud.
She wastes her entire afternoons,
To write words that dance to a soundless tune.
Writing makes her feel more alive,
And is why all those painful nights,
She has survived.
As though you will never be rejected
As though every last wish of yours will come true
As though it would change the world
As though you were to never die trying
As though that will become reality
As though this is your last chance
Because Being Broken Is Easyi
It's been six thousand three hundred and fifteen days since I have been here and only approximate three hundred days in my entire life I spent with him. He's always busy. He says he has work to do.
It's been nine hundred and eighty-two days since everything started falling apart.
Six hundred and fifty-seven days since I lasted talked to you. You said it was over and walked away without a reason. I watched as you walked with such grace, out of my life.
Five hundred and seventy-five days, seven hours, twenty-three minutes and seven seconds since he broke my heart again; make that forty-seconds. I saw him smiling at her. I should be happy for him, right? But why do I feel a pang of jealousy every time I see them? Five hundred and seventy-five days, seven hours, twenty-four minutes and fifty-one seconds and it still hurts. Fifty-seven seconds.
Two hundred and ninety-three days when she stopped talking to me. I loved her like a sister but she left too. People always
All I Want To DoAll I want to do is cry.
I can feel it deep inside,
but all I can do is ask myself why.
This feeling makes me feel pathetic and weak.
My insides ache and feel like they may break.
I feel small and meek.
If only I could justify this feeling of despair.
To know it wasn't just in my head,
then maybe i wouldn't need to care.
I hate writing dumb poems of woe,
just to realize that the woe is just a chemical imbalance.
I just want to put my pen down and go.
I open up my bottle of "happy" pills.
Pills I know I need to take to make others happy;
to put one into my mouth, I must gather up all my will.
My sadness is taken over and I go numb.
My roller coaster of emotions calm down.
why have I waited so long? How Dumb.
Now all I want to do is BE ABLE to cry.
I can't feel anything deep inside.
All I can do is ask myself why...
Getting Back to InspirationOvercoming that mental block or that lack of inspiration can be extremely hard! I would like this to be the beginning of something to help all types of artists and hobbyists to overcome that barrier and continue to do what it is that calls you.
Your art work is a form of self-expression. Every piece that you create is unique to you, I ask that you appreciate even what you think may be the worst piece ever as that (a unique piece of you).
1.) As a rule of thumb—never throw out anything that you create, no matter how bad you think it is. In some way, you have learned from it, you can look back at it later and it may serve as inspiration to recreate it with all that you have recently learned and it may be your next masterpiece. In the very least, you may look at it later on and that piece that you created and thought was so horrible will show you just how far you have really come.
2. ) Keep a folder on your computer of work that has always served to inspire you. If this work has
AngerI don't cry when I'm angry.
I don't stomp my foot and storm to my bedroom.
I slam my fist against a door;
I throw the things in my room.
I have anger issues, people say;
I must admit they are very true.
But I don't want to be this way.
I am dangerous when I'm angry.
It's like my angel wings were set on fire,
Like my halo was ripped from my head,
Replacing it with the devil's horns and tail,
And demon wings upon my back.
Will I ever be in control?
I fear I will be abusive,
If I ever give birth to children;
I fear I'll get too angry at the little mistakes they do.
I want to have peace of mind;
I want to be in control of my emotions.
But how will I do that
If the devil is always clinging to my back?
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