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The Fall: IIIIII
Lying in a room
was a girl of seventeen.
Covering her eyes,
she did not want to be seen.
Her emotions buried no lies.
This room had aged.
What little color there was
Keeping her caged
was a captor drawn distant.
Hours, days, months, a year's time spent chimed her sickly.
Over time that was perceived only to be an instant,
for she had not before pinned her hiding spot as poltroon.
Her once polished silver key had rusted.
She held it with tired fingers limply
by its ribbon that had frayed.
She blindly had grasped it
both the key and the concept.
She lost interest in merely waiting
her own wit.
After clearly seeing this, the girl wept.
rolled silently down her face.
now had taken her current place.
The rain of her sorrow
seeking refuge on the fading damp floor.
Lachrymose, the girl continued to lie in her pain
feeling as if her once vocally broken beloved drifted further
from her reach.
Her limbs grew numb, her blood's warmth she had
Life is but a DreamWe are just unnourished frail bodies,
overfed with white lies and short-lived-euphorias.
Books filled with black letters,
etching lurid images into our utmost dreams.
Veering us from the big picture...
the one we fail to paint ourselves.
Our fists much too busy with fights,
that we are bound to lose.
Too occupied in line waiting,
for creativity to be let loose like a stray dog.
As if we will find home in this pursuit of happiness...
but we only enclose each other in small rooms
with nothing but old laptops.
How many times I've guessed which letter could it be...
Which letter could it be?
To free us from havoc-stricken-thoughts?
They come and go, unending like 24 hour subway stations.
There's no break for this lonely man,
heaving every breathe of stale air
into my overused lungs...
Living in confined walls of flesh
held up with brittle paper-mache bones.
Which day is it that I will burst out from this cage of a life?
And hover with the Gods found in carefully binded bo
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More