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What's BeyondBeyond these mountain ridges I see
The forest's edge and the tallest tree,
Running moose and herded cows,
Little sparrows on tree boughs.
Beyond these prairie meadows I see
Wild horses running free,
Prairie dogs surfacing here and there,
Little fawns prancing everywhere.
Beyond these arctic dunes I see
Whales splashing around with glee,
Penguins waddling to the ice berg's peak,
Polar bears hunting what they seek.
Beyond this glass mirror I see
Someone staring back at me,
She's lively, fun, sympathetic, and kind,
So why is she so hard to find?
Too Innocent For ComfortShe smiles as a seven-year old
Doing everything she's told.
She gets good grades, like her brother.
Impressing her friends, her father, her mother.
She shares her toys and makes her bed.
And eats everything she is fed.
But now she smiles as a twenty-year old
Doing everything she's told.
Giving the boys what they desire,
Saying she's fine and becoming a liar.
So here she is, crying on her cot
Being everything she's not.
And She CriedIt only recently happened. It changes everybody and gives everyone a new head start. Its challenging, frustrating, and brutal, but will be one of the most significant 4 years of your life.
Theyve been best friends since they were senseless toddlers who lived across the street from one another. They had sleepovers, play-dates, and birthdays. They shared germs, toys, and memories. He was her best friend, and she was his.
She recalls that one time when they were going to have a sleepover on a warm, summer night. Her mother helped her cross the street over to his house. The mothers chatted, oblivious to the two children. He grabbed his stuff and she beckoned him. They both began to run across the street and suddenly, a car flew past, inches from scratching their noses. The mothers gasped the two in their arms, screaming while crying.
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
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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