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Literature
War
Wars are waged all around,
People falling with wounds seen and unseen.
Ships battle raging seas never to dock on foreign shores;
Men sick from months adrift stare in horror,
A captain orders the cannons loaded,
and the world goes up in flames with their goal just out of reach.
Warriors ride their steeds to the end of their lives,
Eager to join the battle for fame and glory;
Their passing oft announced by the shouts of the criers,
and the keening of the widows left behind.
Boys, not even nearly men, march onward;
They scurry in a frantic haste to attend futile duties,
Only to face an abrupt end to their service,
Innocence lost at the point of a sword it once wished to master.
Orphans roam the streets in droves,
With vacant eyes and hands extended for so much as a shred of kindness;
There is no one left to care for their lot,
Even as cities burn down around their huddled forms.
And yet, throughout the ages, we seem unable to stop ourselves,
War is in our nature, and we long to perfect ho
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Literature
Forsaken Sister
I think about you every day,
Of all the things you did.
I wish I knew something to say,
To beat that demons that you hid.
Your words still ring here in my ears,
All the things you've said.
I know, for this you've waited years,
Suffered, yearned and bled.
For once I am here to comfort you,
To tell you of my love.
And always to assure you,
Here, you fit like a glove.
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Literature
Nihilism
The pendulum has stopped,
And the clock has ticked its last tock;
Time doesn't seem the same here,
It stretches into eternity.
My life is awash with apathy,
Most mornings I can't bear to open my eyes;
I dream in monochrome,
And I won't give up until I can get this right.
Again I awake from emptiness,
Chasing shadows that slip through my fingers like sand;
A faint echo of something,  anything,
But it hardly seems to matter anymore.
I can still feel the dull thuds against my ribcage,
But the more I focus, the more it seems redundant.
Every falling grain of sand does its job too well,
Distancing me from what seems ever less important.
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Literature
Alcoholic
The taste of bile rises,
I can feel it burning up my throat.
Maybe this time I was successful,
Maybe this time it will be enough.
Enough to fill the hole in my heart,
Enough to silence the voices of my past.
Maybe now I can have some peace,
Maybe now I can be content with my lot.
One, two, three, four, more...
It can never cast away my demons.
When will I finally find the bottle,
The one that holds the off switch to my mind?
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Literature
A Letter to my Mother
To my dearest Mother,
There are so many things;
Things i must say,
Things i must do,
But how will they ever be enough?
i was once just an infant,
A defenceless babe in my crib.
You fed and protected me,
Kept me swaddled in Your arms.
Then with time came change,
And soon i toddled along behind You.
i always followed in Your footsteps,
i wanted to be just like You.
Again, time seemed to pass,
Life constantly changing.
You bestowed kisses on scraped knees,
Picked me up when i  fell.
And then came the teenage years,
So much i must beg forgiveness for.
There were fights and screams and tears,
So much advice often left unheeded
But i'm a young woman now;
i no longer need to be swaddled,
i no longer toddle along behind You,
i  no longer see why we fought.
i'm a young woman now.
Yet, i still need You every day.
Just as i always will,
Even after You're gone.
i hope i can one day thank You;
For all You have done through the years,
For all the love You gave me,
For all that You taught.
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Literature
The Girl in the Mirror
Every day I see her in the mirror;
I stare into her eyes while I paint my mask.
She moves with me, looks like me,
Yet I haven't recognised her in years.
We have the same eyes that receive a dusing of shadow;
Too small to be beautiful, with long thick lashes,
So dark they fade to black.
Eyes that shimmer with delight.
Her lips are the same shade as mine now;
A sweetheart shaped mouth,
The corners quirking upward in a teasing slant.
Lips that smile with joy.
A light layer of blush to define our cheeks;
High bones to accentuate our face,
Full cheeks to lend a soft caress.
Cheeks that flush with anticipation.
So many features that remain vaguely familiar;
Yet, I don't know this stranger.
And I can't help but wonder,
What she will do with my life today.
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Literature
Skindeep
How can you expect me to change?
Why would you want me to be anyone but myself?
For whatever reason it is,
I simply want you to know it hurts.
I am not like you;
I will never flash my teeth in a cajoling smile.
I will never laugh with abandon.
I am reserved.
I can never be like you;
I can't chatter and twitter to everyone alike.
I can't be boisterous.
I am quiet.
I don't even know how to try;
I will never take over a room with charisma  alone.
I will never charm all before me into submission.
I am guarded.
So why would you take from me the only thing I have?
Why would you forbid my only self expression?
You wear your soul behind a veneer of amicability,
I wear my soul on my skin...
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Literature
Words Unspoken
There are so many things I want to say,
So many things I want you to know.
I don't know where to start,
I don't know where to end.
If only I could put what I feel into words,
Pour my heart out and never stop.
I would whisper my secrets to the night,
Hoping the breeze might carry them to you.
But I have no words to speak,
No secrets I can whisper.
I would speak my piece with confidence,
Declare my intentions and misgivings.
But I tremble at the mere thought,
I have no faith in my own voice.
I would shout from the rooftops,
Bare my soul to the world, so you would know.
But my voice is small and sticks in my throat,
I can't seem to catch my breath.
There are so many things I wish I could put into words,
But never will.
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Literature
My Wish
I wish to be like the fire;
I wish to be wild and passionate,
To burn down all obstacles in my way,
To warm despite the chill.
I wish to be like the water;
I wish to be calm and free,
To go wherever my heart wills,
To change course at a simple whim.
I wish to be like the wind;
I wish to be gay and whimsical,
To be a thousand different colours,
To play forever.
I wish to be like the earth;
I wish to be strong and dependable,
To be unshakable,
To always stand firm and true.
But most of all...
I just wish to be me;
I wish to be human,
To be broken and flawed beyond comprehension,
To always be imperfectly me.
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Literature
Monsters
Oh, sweet child,
What I would not give to have what you have;
That naivety, that innocence,
That obliviousness to the harsh truths.
I would give anything to go back;
I wish I could run and play again,
I wish I had no more worries,
I wish I could laugh for the sheer joy of it.
But most of all...
I wish the only monsters were the ones under my bed,
The ones hiding in my closet.
But, Sweetheart, monsters are real...
...And they look like people.
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Literature
The Soul
Parched and cracked and barren;
An everlasting desert stretching into eternity.
No creatures roam here anymore,
Only the winds dare to trespass;
Stirring up dust from times long passed,
Taunting this land with memories best forgotten.
What this place would not give for some sign of rain,
Some sign of the life that once flourished here;
It was once a paradise, you see...
Once, there were lives built here, too bountiful to count,
Once, there was beauty here;
Buds of the sweetest scents and most vibrant hues,
Trees with leaves like jewels, glittering in the sun.
Once, this place had a splendour that was unrivaled;
Magnificent waters meandered their way across the plains,
Forging ever forward, unstoppable.
Lives were built here...
What this place would not give for the return of those unforgotten  ages,
What this place would not give for but a moment;
It was once a paradise, you see...
But that time is long over,
It is all buried under a layer of dust and decay;
The buds have long sin
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Literature
Child of Words
I cannot paint you a picture,
Cannot bring tears to your eyes with vivid colours.
Each stroke of a brush by my hand,
Taints the beauty of paint on canvas.
I cannot play you a haunting melody,
Cannot break or build your soul with fluid notes.
My fingers fumble across keys and strings,
All that is left are hollow harmonies.
I cannot take the stage,
My act fools no audience,
With voice so hollow and eyes transparent,
I would do no role its just deserved.
But...
With words I paint a picture,
Create entire worlds with simple phrases.
I need no brush or canvas or paints,
Only some inks and twisted thoughts.
And my words flow as fluidly as any melody,
Sentences mingling into harmonious stories.
I need no keys or strings,
Only pen and paper as instruments.
And with characters of my own design,
No flaws or tells are seen.
For on paper there are no hollow voices or transparent eyes,
Only pulsing pictures in the mind of a reader.
Now you see that to no other art I am partial,
As to that of the wr
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Are made of the same material 
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Then why didn't you consider my feelings? 
You could've asked me to the dance you know? 
You knew how much it mean't to me 
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And I'm supposed to be included 
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And you threw me out 
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Why isn't mine? 
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Twinkle Nadine (No kidding)
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
South Africa
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13 deviations
Wars are waged all around,
People falling with wounds seen and unseen.

Ships battle raging seas never to dock on foreign shores;
Men sick from months adrift stare in horror,
A captain orders the cannons loaded,
and the world goes up in flames with their goal just out of reach.

Warriors ride their steeds to the end of their lives,
Eager to join the battle for fame and glory;
Their passing oft announced by the shouts of the criers,
and the keening of the widows left behind.

Boys, not even nearly men, march onward;
They scurry in a frantic haste to attend futile duties,
Only to face an abrupt end to their service,
Innocence lost at the point of a sword it once wished to master.

Orphans roam the streets in droves,
With vacant eyes and hands extended for so much as a shred of kindness;
There is no one left to care for their lot,
Even as cities burn down around their huddled forms.

And yet, throughout the ages, we seem unable to stop ourselves,
War is in our nature, and we long to perfect how we fight;
Stones, clubs, bows, swords, guns, bombs, chemistry,
We find ever more inventive ways to murder each other...

Comments


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:iconinky-black-honesty:
inky-black-honesty Featured By Owner Jul 26, 2017   Writer
Thank you for the favorite small heart - black 
Reply
:iconteenagedirtbag96:
TeenageDirtbag96 Featured By Owner Aug 27, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks much for favouriting my piece 
Reply
:iconshelleypalmer:
shelleypalmer Featured By Owner Aug 22, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the fave!
Reply
:iconazuline-furcula:
azuline-furcula Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2016
have a lovely day.
Reply
:iconlunadarkness15:
Lunadarkness15 Featured By Owner Jul 29, 2016  Student Writer
Welcome to FlawedLiterature ! :wave:

I hope you have wonderful time with us. :hug:

If you have any questions/suggestions please don't hesitate to ask! :w00t:

The founder,
Lunadarkness15
Reply
:iconcometscollide:
CometsCollide Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you so much.:)
Reply
:iconlunadarkness15:
Lunadarkness15 Featured By Owner Jul 31, 2016  Student Writer
Welcome. ;)
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