Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

literature

Music

Deviation Actions

BellaBugia

Published: Oct 22, 2014

1K Views

Literature Text

No one understands me
Like you do

Take me away
With your melody
That plays through the night
Your strings speak
The song of my soul
Transforming my thoughts
Into lyrics

No, nobody understands me
Not like you
For that
I'll always be your slave

More by BellaBugia

Literature

Untitled

I don’t want to be in love with you I don’t want to hear your voice Melting Like ice on a summers day I don’t want to see your smile Hoping I’m the reason you’re happy I don’t want to hold my breath Waiting To hear from you again I don’t want to be in love with you Knowing You won’t love me back

Recommended Literature

Literature

Mother

Mother: The last time that I saw you, I left with bitter words I never knew how much the things, I said to you would hurt. And I never wanted to see you; so I tried to shut you out But a Mother is the one thing that I cannot live without... I've been to the doctor's room He tells me I will see you soon I'm prayin' in the lobby- Hopin' that you'll be okay... I never knew that things would be this way... The first memory I have, is when you used to hold my hand You taught me how to be a man but I threw it in your face Still you forgave me and still you believed But I took your faith and broke it up, like golden autumn leaves... wh

Literature

In a Little Girl's Mind

There sits the girl with the things in her eyes Monsters, destruction, and sweet butterflies Hopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screams Beautiful dresses now torn at the seams Crayons and paintbrushes, villains and grins Young, gladsome innocence, hatred and sins Little red houses on roads left to fade Gorgeous moonlight shining off of the blade Blood pouring out as she cries her own name Knowing she's forced to take each bit of blame She could have stopped it and left it behind All of these things in her troubled young mind She could have saved them if she dared to try Rather, though, she left herself there to die. Now, other

Literature

A Child Again

I wish I could be a child again. Where all I had to worry about Were skinned knees And cooties from boys. I wish I would be a child again. Where boys ran away from girls And no one lied. I wish I could be a child again. Where parents were devoted In every part of my life. I wish I could be a child again. When there was recess, And fun and games. I want to be a child again. I want the child meant wonder. I want the never ending hope. I want loyalty. I want simplicity. I want to be a child again. I want my innocence back. I want to not have to worry. I want grades that don't matter I want time outs to be the worse punishme

Suggested Collections

Literature I likes

Literature

Insurrection

Insurrection Prologue The four tyrants stood over the hero's fallen figure. It had surprised them that he had put up such a fierce fight, but they had prevailed as they knew they would. The quartet were a motley group of villains the fallen hero had defeated in the past. All had been assumed dead, but they had revealed themselves to be alive and well years earlier. It had taken them until now to band together. The shortest of the four, a diminuitive Riptoc with fiery orange scales, emerald-green eyes and dressed in purple robes held his sceptre at the crumpled form's neck. He grinned revealing a row of sharp, pearly-white teeth. "Well Dr

Literature

Society Is Ugly.

Society is ugly. Not you. Beauty is defined by How you act. Not by the number on the Scale. Starving doesn't work. Purging doesn't work. Pills don't work. The girl you see In the mirror is Perfect Just the way she is Now. Don't get upset because You don't match up To the media's Expectations. Cutting won't work. Crying won't work. Dying won't work. Remember this: Society is ugly. Not you.

Literature

Jack in the Box

Jack springs out of its festive cage in the darkest corner of my bedroom, shaking off the cobwebs time and time again. Jack and I used to get along. I would reel that handle like I was using a meat grinder - showing a little resistance as I slowly cue Jack into the scene in the outside world of his circus prison. Laughs were shared... My innocence from childhood was buried in as shallow grave. Losing my smile was hard, but not as hard as finding a new one. I'm still looking. All this time, Jack is mocking me. Jack no longer needs a hand to get himself out of jail; Jack pops when he pleases and laughs, and laughs, and laughs. This i

Poetry

moosekleenex on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/moosekleenex/art/Little-Bird-176142351moosekleenex

Literature

for her.

it's midnight and I'm writing love letters on my skin to the woman who raised me. it's midnight and every limb has a story. all my collarbone remembers is the frantic hurry of your footsteps when it broke under the weight of gravity and mistaken desire to fly and my broken pink umbrella, long-gone, remembers too. my elbows remember the firm pull of your hands in the grocery store. my cheeks remember your makeup and my clumsy fingers dipping in like paint pots and my neck remembers all your strands of pearls. I remember when you were young again and wearing red and holding cups of tea in hands that didn't shake yet and I remembe

Literature

Girl Leaving a Bar

the wind picked pace she could feel the sound of the music, very distant now he was telling her about his sister fingers sliding through her hair like water saying, "You remind me," "You remind me." it was too early for spring bare branches stir with a sudden turn of crooked fingers as a car passes, shedding light on broken glass last night she dreamed of lions

Poetry

Literature

On self-love

Maybe who she really loves, is the name of the boy she thinks of, while she lines her chatoyant eyes with charcoal maybe the name she really needs to think of, is her own.

Literature

Unaware

When you are two and five and ten you are unaware –– of the cactus in the windowsill, how, fragile, each quill bends and breaks and falls apart.–– Twelve years later, on a Tuesday, you dream about a boy who bumps his head on an iron slate and you wake in a cold sweat. You are twelve when you are always bumping shoulders. Twenty-two years of Thursday. There is nothing at all. And you wonder (and you wonder why) each time you wake. The cactus in the window bleeds with you when you bump it. No one ever mentioned frightened things bite. So you have always been unaware.

Literature

ripples on a blank shore (#15)

in rainbows with a petrichor veil; you've caught my breath in palms covered in dandelions' dust, my longing, an uncovered explosion of drafts hidden from the both of us. but i reach out, knowing wind-chime silence is a possibility as it has always been; knowing the doldrums of my harrowing echoes could be the only reality i'm pressed against, but i'm more than willing to risk my heart and expose it to the weight of sorrow if there's a sliver of a shot that we can be together. suspended in the contingency of the unknown, i hope your wrung hands red with distortion & blue with disappearance, make your way back to the greying soles of my

Featured in Groups

LooseLacesPoetry

A-Safe-Haven

I have always been and will always be a beast tamed by music.

Comments1

Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In

autumnsky66

Oct 22, 2014

I can definitely relate to this

DeviantArt - Homepage

DeviantArt Facebook DeviantArt X DeviantArt Instagram

About Contact Core Membership DeviantArt Protect

Developers Advertise Terms of Service Etiquette

Careers Privacy Policy Copyright Policy Help and FAQ

Watch Team and join our Community Group for the latest updates and activities.

Join Community