ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
She conjures up an image of the place.
The place that does not exist.
The place she yearns for.
The place she calls her home.
It's peaceful there,
quiet and relaxing.
It's where she can be herself.
And only there.
Where she does not wear a mask.
Where she does not have to hide.
Where she does not have to endure,
but can only live.
It makes her happy and sad.
A place to call home,
but it does not exist.
Yet?
Will it exist one day?
Can it exist one day?
She does not know,
does not want to know.
She just dreams of it.
Her home.
And she feels homesick,
because of something that only exists within her mind.
The place that does not exist.
The place she yearns for.
The place she calls her home.
It's peaceful there,
quiet and relaxing.
It's where she can be herself.
And only there.
Where she does not wear a mask.
Where she does not have to hide.
Where she does not have to endure,
but can only live.
It makes her happy and sad.
A place to call home,
but it does not exist.
Yet?
Will it exist one day?
Can it exist one day?
She does not know,
does not want to know.
She just dreams of it.
Her home.
And she feels homesick,
because of something that only exists within her mind.
Literature
R.I.P Words
Do you know what it feels like?
To feel something, but...
be unable to express what it is;
to be silent;
to fight it alone.
I know how much it hurts,
but I don't know how to show it.
Poetry used to be my refuge,
a place where I could be alone -
express all my emotions,
without being judged.
I'm losing it.
I can't connect to poetry.
Everything sounds so stupid...
Everything I write sounds stupid.
I have to erase all my feelings,
because they don't sound right.
The words aren't real.
They don't show what I feel
And maybe this will be the last.
Maybe I'm gone:
lost of all emotions.
I'm truly alone...
I used to have poetry.
Now I have not
Literature
i'm falling away with you
I am the wayward child.
Tacking on wings months too late; our legs didn't break -
Fate gave me a flower; snowflakes and granite
by any other name.
Oh, gravity,
I am home.
Your eyes of forests, branching away.
Defeathered, dust settling;
if you don't see it, you can never walk away.
Battle on the bridge, your skin under mine -
tunnel of feathers.
Wildflowers, imperfect birds, butterflies -
he will have cause to regret;
Icarus.
It wasn't a mistake,
plucking featherweight regret.
The hapless harpy curls,
learning to fall.
Who carries your weight?
Cleave, white coffin collar bone,
I see the light of home again; firefly skin.
The caged bird sc
Literature
Why wont you let go?
Do you know what it feels like?
To feel nothing yet delve
into the darkness,
plunging into the unknown.
The unknown consumes you,
and you don't know
what to do with yourself.
Because you're just that detached;
isolated from everyone else.
You don't feel angry, oh no.
That isn't what you feel.
You just feel void, empty.
Like there's no emotion in you,
because
no one can contemplate,
or even understand you.
And you're just plagued
by this idea that
you brought this upon yourself.
All this sadness,
is because of you
and because you
wont let go.
And because you wont let go,
it'll keep coming back and
coming back to haunt you -
you'll
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
tried to summarize the feeling of homesickness without having a place to call home.
© 2012 - 2024 PrayerForTheFallen
Comments12
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
This is a beautiful poem.
I feel I can relate to this.
Very well written
I feel I can relate to this.
Very well written