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Lyla-Amnethyst

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I wrote this poem about a month ago in support for anyone who gets/has been bullied. Still haven't come up with a name for it yet. Hope you enjoy it anyway. :P  (Warning- sad poem)

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Words to the brain,
Hate to the heart.
Bullet to the confidence,
which tears esteem apart.
Tears to the eyes,
Blade to the wrist.
Why, oh, why, did it come to this?
Secrets from the loved,
Loathing from the cruel.
When did the world become so ruled by hate?
Eyes to the wrist,
Then to the wall-
Pretending to not have noticed at all.
Different expressions,
Another view.
Oh how could this have happened to you?
A world run by hate,
Will meet its demise-
As long as we keep our eyes,
Away from the struggle,
Away from the hurt-
When the cry of help could easily be heard.
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Note:
I wrote this quite a while ago as an assignment of a one sided dialogue poem. There was no prompt, and I chose to speak about being bullied. This is a one sided dialogue poem, with me as the speaker. The insults and teases were all from 1 person in 6th, 7th, and 8th grade who used to be my best friend in elementary school. What you see is my response to all those taunts and bullying from that person. Some of the things in the poem have changed since. I think a lot of people may be able to relate to this, unfortunately. Help end bullying, believe it or not, even the silly insults can hurt and break a person apart until they have nothing.

Hello.
  Excuse me? I'm right here you know.
Why are you mad at me?
  Why that look upon your face?
My hair is not for the 80s magazine!
  Why am I dumb for not understanding?
Oh yeah, I'm totally going to injure you right now.
  Yup, I'm a geek for constantly reading.
Mhmm, I definitely only listen to Christian music because I go to church.
  Oh, so that's why you're the superior.
What's wrong with shopping there?
  Really?
Sure, I'm a stalker for having to go to the same room as you.
  Yes I am weird, thank you very much. Everyone in the world is.
That much?
  No, I'm not allowed to talk to boys. That's why I have a boyfriend.
Uh-huh, pathetic for standing up for myself.
  Yeah, don't know how to ride a bike because I don't own one.
Oh really? Apparently I don't know myself very well based on these rumors.
  I'm sure it was fun.
No, my life isn't a facade.
  Yes, this is my personality.
Yes, these are my friends.
  This isn't an act.
This is me.
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2 of my very close friends (whom i consider my sisters) and I got together and came up with a goal:
to create our own successful (someday) photography business!
We already taking the steps for our dream to come true. We have a name: 3 Sisters and a Camera.
We've already had our first photo shoot....of ourselves XD Silly, but still pretty good. We take our own photos and edit them simply. Only changing color contrast, adding text, textures and sometimes fun icons.
We hope to someday have an actual business, we could take pictures of family and such and landscapes. We all LOVE to take nature pictures.
Hope that we can get some support! Here's our deviantART account link: 3-sistersandacamera.deviantart…
Here's our facebook page: www.facebook.com/3SistersACame…

Thanks! <3
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So I finally decided to put some of my poetry on DeviantArt. I wrote this 2 or 3 years ago. Enjoy :) Please give me some feedback/critiques in the comments!
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"The Prophecies We Call Dreams"

As I slip between the ice cold sheets
I wait for sleep to crash around me like the waves
blowing off the island of dreams.
I'm walking along the path of the forest of imagination.
Into a tangle of vines, I'm suddenly encased.

Is this really reality?

He walks towards me.
Trying to free me, to help me.
The greedy serpentine vines of the rose bushes
entangle and cut him with their many thorns.
He gives up forever, leaving me to fend the cruel vines of life.

Is this a dream?

Carefully, lovingly, she pushes aside the serpents of thorns.
She gets through to me in the cage of vines.
They slide aside, as she has once been the one within them.
The hungry vines flee. They are afraid of the joy and friendship she brings
Forever she stays with me. The mark of true courage.

Is this a sign?

As the warm waves of sleep retreat to the rising sun,
Slowly, the meadow of fortune, fades away.
As I slip out from the warm blankets,
I wait for bits of my dream to drop away like morning dew.
Crystal clear, the memory remains.

Is this a sign?

He walks towards me.
With the words of greeting still upon his tongue.
The joyous circle of friends surround us.
Feeding on the emotions of life.
He never leaves my side, he doesn't disappear.

Is this a dream?

Months after the dream is said and done,
He gives up forever, leaving me confused and alone.
What happened? What did I do?
As the reasons and lies, swoop in like owls from friends,
The less and less I care.

Is this really reality?

Several weeks later, while walking down memory lane,
Suddenly, I remember the dream from so long ago.
This was foretold. This was bound to happen.
I look up into a new friend's smiling face.
I am now his, he is now mine.

Is this a dream?

He walks towards me.
Face all aglow with happiness none could ever fake.
The joyous circle of friends surround us.
Feeding off the emotions of life.
He never leaves my side, he doesn't disappear.

Is this a sign?

Now the advice, from me to you.
Never ignore the nagging dream.
If the memory doesn't fall, like morning dew,
Heed this advice.
What it foretells could be true.

Never forget the prophecies we call dreams.
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Featured

Day Against Hate/Day of Silence Poem by Lyla-Amnethyst, journal

Yes, This Is Me ~Spirit Day~ by Lyla-Amnethyst, journal

A little something called a dream :P by Lyla-Amnethyst, journal

The Prophecies We Call Dreams by Lyla-Amnethyst, journal