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Path to FriendshipWhile I may not be ready to be friends just yet I am willing to take the first steps down a long road. Even if I trip up and fall I am willing to pick myself up and try again. I am not aware of how long this road will be however I know that it is longer than I thought it would be.
Are you willing to hold my hand as I travel along it, to hold me up as I fall, to put the daily effort into the journey? I am willing to venture on the path less traveled. The path is wide enough for two and if you wish to not travel with me you will be staying behind me watching my back as I walk proudly forward. However if you choose to stay behind my hike will be a lonely one.
I would wish for you to travel at my side, both of us guiding the other along the way. I have been waiting for your answer, and only just have you giving me any response. However your answer was vague and worrying to me.
So I ask once more will you walk the dark forest trail with me? Tripping and falling along the way. Holding and gu
EmberWhere once there was excess now there is absence
The heart that once skipped only for you
Now is filled with an unforgiving silence
Never forgetting the pain of the last injury
Where once my heart fluttered now it only beats
The beats fewer and further in-between than before our meeting
Before our kindled flame and our roaring flames
Where once the beats were strong and musical
Now are just simple and necessary to function
The embers of what was had are still burning
Different from the flames that crested high
Before yellow, red and orange now just a faint glow
This glow is all that can be seen in the dark
The dark of the unforeseen
The black of the unknown
The uncertainty of this, our new surroundings, we stare at the glow wishing for the fire and flames to crest high once again, or yet even put off heat to warm the cold of the night.
Neither reaching to rekindle the embers waiting for the other, but one must start.
One must brave the dark the black the uncertainty the unknown.
The Cycle of HopeHow complicated is it when two like each other?
~Enough to scare some off for life.
How difficult is it to choose to end it all before it takes a turn for the worst?
~Enough to weaken the strongest of men.
How brave one must be to stand in front of another to voice ones opinions that will injure the other?
~Enough to make the most courageous quiver.
How magically it starts, how majestically it escalates, how wonderfully it climaxes, how tragically it falls, and how disastrously it terminates.
~Hope to passion, Passion to romance, Romance to love, Love to fear, Fear to hope.
How does one pick up pieces after they are dropped?
~To numerous are the pieces for even the most capable to do alone.
How to be Populardon’t talk
go to parties
listen to friends
go with the flow
drink some more
don’t let them see the tears
as you cry yourself to sleep
for the most important thing
is to be popular
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are struggling
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,
Mommy Is A Super HeroMommy Is A Super Hero
Standing before his class, he held his tiny report,
“Who is your super hero?” Was written in yellow chalk on the green board.
Exhaling his breath, the curly haired boy closed his little eyes,
“Don't be ashamed of yourself” His mother's words rung in his ears, “And don't ever cry.”
He began to read aloud, with a shaky voice.
to his class, he told his mother's story.
At age fifteen, she was a beauty queen,
the most beautiful girl in all of the world.
She flaunted her silky hair, bore her bare legs,
prided her breast. The boys treated her like she was a treasure chest.
They respected her rules, they “looked, but didn't touch”,
but there was one older man, who from her, wanted too much.
All alone he met her, he approached her in the alley,
and all his mother told him, was that this man had treated her badly.
But what the boy didn't know was that she was taken against her will,
and that two months later, she turned up ext
cenotaph of stormsthe first thunderstorm
was triggered by a blunt pair
of scissors, sparking violently
against the lightning,
shaking in the wind.
the downpour pierced,
tattooed with no ink but
the dark bleakness
of an overcast morning,
infiltrating uniformed wrists.
hid behind the music block,
shaky raindrops rioting
fears, she fractured.
the second storm
wept a two year downpour
outline that dripped from wrist
to hip, sidelong silhouette glances
obscured by the rain.
stalictidal waves shuddered
frozen, until icy glass
fell in stained shards from
the stillness inside.
thinner, brittler, growing
in flurries of sleet and hail,
her outline was never filled,
though the floods threatened
the third thunderstorm
was a mist-ridden melancholia,
a dream for permanence
smeared in ink through
fueled by the hope
that just this once,
the rain would spark a
rebirth beneath the ground.
instead, a tsunami
washed away the ink
as tides so often do.
The sound of silenceThe sound of silence,
Is so deafening,
That it makes my ears ring,
With the cacophony of my own insanity.
Ideationlocked in a room
with only one escape,
or so it seems.
your hands shake and you drop the key.
Suddenly you're unsure.
Do I want to pick it up?
Do I want to find it?
Do I want to leave?
you think to yourself
there's no other choice.
find the key or corrode, or rust
wear down the hinge
use sadness as the key.
You have the answer now.
Just open the door.
Just walk outside and don't look back.
Let yourself leave with no regrets.
And yet you can't.
You're afraid, you think,
but you are actually strong.
Don't run away.
Don't take that leap.
DNAyou are content
because every day
you have the opportunity to
hug both sets of your DNA.
however, i am not content.
half of me is missing
and the other half
is hardly ever here.
NorseThe sight of the two acting as if as one is enough to release the chains of fenris
Tempted to release all of the words learned by Ratatoskr onto either of the two
And just like the hand of Tyr bit off by Fenris my hands are no longer under control
Just like Frigg parading her son Baldur around, Loki is once again tempted to ask the mistletoe to help bring them back down to a mortal level
Poison forever dripping upon my body to writhe in agony until the end of days
But yet holding it all inside churning and boiling the linings of my stomach until she fulfills her promise and lets loose all of the secrets she is hiding in fear of all of this
Until that Promised day I wait with an open mind, open arms and closed hands.
With no end in sight and no mend within reach, most of the poison has already spilled
Some of it onto others, innocent bystanders seeing the struggle of two lovers whose hourglass has long been emptied
A glass of which neither touch in fear of the remaining poiso
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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