|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
All Too Soon
It's all too soon.
I'm not ready to let go.
I can feel you calling out my name,
In the silence between us.
And I won't let you go,
I will never let you go.
You will always be with me in my heart.
I miss you even now while you are close,
I can't accept the thought of tomorrow without you.
Please stay with me.
And its still too soon,
I can't bear the thought of leaving.
You swore to be there forever and always,
but will you be there tomorrow?
I can't see you tonight
as I call out your name,
and I have to hope that you are listening.
Where are you now?
Where will you be with the rising sun?
Always I will think of you,
And I hope that you will always think of me.
The Death of Froggy
There once was a froggy,
Who lived in a boggy,
Zapping up flies all around.
Then one sunny day
When his friends came to play,
They found him dead on the ground.
They mused and they puzzled,
And were quite befuddled,
Who could do such a thing as this?
Was it foul play
That ended his day?
Or maybe a magical kiss?
Then one friend said, "No,"
"But let us all go,"
"And gaze upon poor Froggy's head."
"A kiss it can't be,"
"For the print that we see,"
"'Tis not a kiss, but a tire tread."
Froggy, like a deer,
Just wandered too near
The white line that marks the highway.
So the moral of this story,
To stay hunky-dory,
Always go under the byway.
Tears roll down my face as I try to tell you
You wont listen, you hear only what you want
You can't see how I feel inside my soul
You can't here my hearts cry of sorrow
I want to tell you all that I feel
But you can not comprehend what I say
Even as you try to ask what is wrong
I turn away, tears rolling down my cheeks
Now as I go along the road before me
You will not meet my eyes filled with tears
You say you understand what I feel
But there is no way that you can
My emotions are mine to feel, just as yours are
You can't tell me what I feel and what I don't
You arn't me to feel, and tears roll down my cheeks
As I think of you trying to comprehend me
They go about not knowing me
They think they can see, what's real and what's not
But none understand me, who I really am
I am an empty shell with a smiling mask
They can not see my pain
I keep it all locked up inside of me
I put on a mask to hide
All of my lonely sorrow
They kill my soul with their words
They can not see through my mask
My trust in them has crumbled
Yet still I stay by their side
Why can I not leave this mask behind?
I leave it for a while, but soon it is back again
It is a part of me, becoming more so everyday
My mask is happy while inside I die
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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