There is no life for me anymore.
As I stand, I'm standing alone.
No one to help me.
No one who cares.
Death is around me. It understands me.
My pain.
My suffering.
My desires.
Every time I come home, I walk down the long hallways, and think:
Why me?
Why me?
Why me?
I scream at the top of my barely working lungs, hoping for an answer.
Nothing, just the sound of cold, dead, silence.
I sit in denial, waiting for some sort of comfort to wap around me.
But I know I don't deserve it.
If I were able to walk down a street, I would ask the citizens passing by:
Would you help me?
Do you care about me?
Do you love me?
--------------
Can you understand?
Can you comprehend?
I believe I can.
It is a gift.
Embrace it.
It keeps you nimble.
It keeps you young
But it will not wait.
You must keep track.
Keep it to its fullest.
Create memories in the midst of it.
It keeps going, but never stops.
It is impatient.
It has no master.
It brings life.
And death.
It tears the flesh away from the body.
Deteriorates the ground.
Crumbles buildings.
Ages the soul.
It cannot be undone.
It can only be remembered.
There is no life for me anymore.
As I stand, I'm standing alone.
No one to help me.
No one who cares.
Death is around me. It understands me.
My pain.
My suffering.
My desires.
Every time I come home, I walk down the long hallways, and think:
Why me?
Why me?
Why me?
I scream at the top of my barely working lungs, hoping for an answer.
Nothing, just the sound of cold, dead, silence.
I sit in denial, waiting for some sort of comfort to wap around me.
But I know I don't deserve it.
If I were able to walk down a street, I would ask the citizens passing by:
Would you help me?
Do you care about me?
Do you love me?
--------------
Can you understand?
Can you comprehend?
I believe I can.
It is a gift.
Embrace it.
It keeps you nimble.
It keeps you young
But it will not wait.
You must keep track.
Keep it to its fullest.
Create memories in the midst of it.
It keeps going, but never stops.
It is impatient.
It has no master.
It brings life.
And death.
It tears the flesh away from the body.
Deteriorates the ground.
Crumbles buildings.
Ages the soul.
It cannot be undone.
It can only be remembered.
It’s truly been years since I accessed this deviantart page, literally since senior year of high school, I’m pretty sure. I’m not sure if I want to continue on with this page and just revamp it entirely or start fresh with the new page I created. I haven’t posted anything on the new one yet, but I already took my preferred alias, gotta think this one over a bit.
I’m now an adult (22 yrs old, turning 23 in a couple weeks), who has graduated college with her BFA in illustration, and a minor in Entrepreneurship, and as you can imagine, my art has improved EXTENSIVELY from the very last time I posted anything here.