PremiumWho’s sneaking on my profile?
Who’s looking at my art?
All these things I’ll miss
This is only the start!
No polls to ask my followers
No questions for my friends
I’ve had this premium for almost a year
And this is how it ends
Journals skins and critiques
Are important to me too!
Don’t forget more profile options
That deviantart gives to you!
Easy browsing content and extra Sta.sh space!
Archived deviations too!
Here I am looking at the end
What is it I shall do?
Widgets for my profile,
Beta tests and giveaways!
I guess this is the end my friends.
How bland my profile stays.
I bid you ado dear premium
It was a nice time it’s true
I hope to see you again sometime:
On my profile soon.
NyaattackRay of light, lightning spark, in the dark
Shining bright, bloodshot eyes illuminated
A sword dripping with blood, slaying parchment with ink
Words ripping, time slipping, falling apart
The moon is bright on that night, the winds howl like wolves
Clouds coming and going, spontaneously blocking light
The pen wonders the purpose of the clouds, where they are going
But the words formed show more than a curiosity at the thought
Like a liquid solution, disolved are the marvels of the dark sky
Filling pages, bloodshot eyes
The sword, the pen, goes forever on
Even when the clouds stopped moving across the skies
Maintenance MechanicLarge Production Machines
Huge and Complex
Fixed by the Journeyman
Helping with three things that vex
They come and go on a schedule
Making sure all is well
Doing minor repairs as needed
When something is wrong just ring the bell
For emergencies are also a specialty
Setting things up
when you don't know how
is a big aspect of their job
and normally comes with a scheduled help vow
To be a journeyman college is needed
along with knowledge of technology and math
Complete the test they set before you
And then you may follow the journeyman's path
Big Tobacco. The Monster is not in the stick."For some it's ugly but for some it's a sanctuary."
The putrid smoke fills the air around her, swirling with a strange majestic beauty, warm and light. The little red embers at the end of the slender cylindrical refuge comfort her as they keep glowing, though the night encompassing her feels especially dark.
She rides the blanket of feelings as the smoke encompasses her body, inside and out. Her lungs weigh heavy with the black tar, while her mind weighs heavy with a deep emotional scar.
With every drag she feels herself relaxing, trance-like, into a state of calm. Finally, she puts out her death stick and goes inside to her house, into her bedroom, and falls asleep.
My Eleventh Grade LetterDear Myself...
"Let me start off by saying I feel crappy"
As in dead, hurt, all too shabby
"I could ramble for awhile I guess"
Because from a person like me
I'd expect nothing less
"But you're still scared daddy will hit you"
Which is why you hole up in your room
Why you hide the truth
"They tried to get you into trouble that one time"
Not just with the teacher
But to every student as well your words weren't worth a dime
"Always had good instinct I guess"
Tis a shame you never used it
You would have spent less of your life repressed
This letter I wrote
to myself is filled to the brim with memories I spoke
only to myself in silent hushed tones
in my head, on paper, on invisible thrones
"Isn't it weird how time flies?"
Chronic Writer's Block Tick Tock
The hands go on the clock
I stare into space
to figure out these lines
Words are in my head
I know it
Trying so hard to be
Things just don't
want to jump
from my mind to the screen
listening to music
trying to get inspiration
it's all clashing
this nation which strives
that mindset ruins
my situation hurts
my family kills
I can't write
the words I mean
The scenes I see
won't appear in front of me
for my mind is required
to reach the literacy desired
lost I am
in this world of prose
wanting to write
and have read
my own means