|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
chapter 1She sat in a small room that contained white walls with free styled art painted on some parts of the wall. In the room, there was a dark chocolate wooded bed frame with a black comforter, black pillow, and black fleece, all with white polka dots. Next to the bed was a nightstand, which had a black digital alarm clock, a Nintendo DS, and a Kindle Fire. In the shelf, there were a few books and some chargers, which had formed a tangled mess of wires. Inside the drawer were mechanical pencils and erasers and lead, and most importantly, her sketchbook. Next to the nightstand was a bookcase, it had some more books and contained movies on the shelves as well. The book case was a three shelf dark chocolate wood shelf, it was the same color as all the furniture in the room. At the foot of the bed was her desk. On her desk was a desk lamp and pencil cup. Above the desk on the wall was a calendar with blue, green, and red markings on quite a few days on the month. Inside h
examining the worldI lay here on my back, on the couch. I'm laying here viewing the apartment that I live in with a different perspective. The wall has a long crack and and a slight bump. Huh, i never noticed that there before.
As I lay here and look around, I think of my life. What has happened to me, the good and the bad, and how they shaped my life. I can't help but to frown but smile too. They made me who I am. As much as I am self-consious and feel ugly, I love my personality. I love that I have friends like, being a tomboy, all the things I love, being an artist and a musician.
After thinking about the loves, I think about the hates. Boy, that list is long. I hated the man that ruined my childhood and is trying to ruin my life, I hate the misery my first crush put me through, arachnids (god they make me shudder in terror), and so much more.
Sometimes I'm angry, frustrated, hurt, conflicted, emotional, but I'm also excited, joyful, surprised, and happy in general. As much as I would hate life, I lov
longdead leafa longdead leaf
burnt brown in the depth of green
cups a handful of fresh water
a leaf left behind
holds something of worth
forgoing death with its dead body
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More