DeanWrites

I was once a piece in a color-switching game Back when the world was still green And majestic sounds soaked through the radio Like the sirens’ voices far from an open sea, On a blurry road to despair Where his eyes were colored red With the representation of the gate to hell, But leading way beyond that. Way beyond death and smoke, Bright blue lakes of bitter taste on tongues That have tasted paradise before, But were casted out because of pleasure, Too much orgasms standing on the way to the Paradise city, Past the sign and no welcoming voices to approve What you have decided to do this time, So you know that you never choose right, Never leave a mistake unmade And some day you’ll have to put the judgment on yourself, Maybe choose a gate or be kicked to one, At last learn the rage is final and sinister. He will follow Through the way to rehab. He’ll hide in the graffiti caves on the hill And wait until you make a decision To go back from where you started To learn from past times, Watching the melting glass Or the paint stain on paper, But the lessons never leave a stain on your brain And you are still marching Through the darkest forests in this deserted world, No help exist and no salvation. You are leaving for the exile, For the greatest good of the next one You gift with anything yours, Because curses never lift from people Who refuse to accept the fact That they are death itself For the mistakes they make on purpose And the shame they choose to ignore forever. But this is not a darkish poem – Just poetry or poetry on fire, Diverse from the hellish flames down below That I once entered Because of myself and someone else. People get nothing more than what they deserve, Guess I just deserved the colors To swallow every inch of my skin And turn me into a masterpiece Of something very few seem to understand, By someone who chose to love me in his grave. Possessed the fattest part of my heart, Left me handle the disease alone In rivers of cards with hearts, Closing eyes and house flying through windows; Railways, terrifying hauntings And vomiting nothing more than colors – The only thing you left behind. You are the devil – That’s a lie like the one about this poem .

What the heck does our generation get from social media ? The ability to post every time we fart and complain all the time so other people could see we have problems is really annoying ... Though I'm doing it right now. There is no escape from present situations !

I've chosen to live an empty life, It was disguised at first So I thought it would be useful For future shit or something else. But it turned out to be a mistake - One in this collection of mine, And now half the time I'm lonely The other half- depressed. Those songs don't have a meaning like before, The sheets are dirty and black And my worries are snobbish. Don't make an attempt to love me, 'Cause I've made too many wrong choices, And I only have eyes for one thing That's warming up my calm sleep - Reflection of despair.

I feel like Tumblr is a really artsy place (at least parts of it) and GOSH - I appreciate it soo much ... It's inspiring