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The moment the pain vanishedThe moment the pain vanishes
This happens quick, almost instantaneous
The pressure in my chest releases,
And what I once saw to be important,
No longer seems relevant
Before this moment,
Before the thought was even conceived..
The idea of removing this pain was unimaginable
Because, with it, there was still something I held dear
Someone I held dear
And at that moment
That very instant
From my heart...
From my concern
It doesn't hurt,
It doesn't sting,
It isn't sore,
It isn't pleasant,
It isn't comfortable,
It is nothing
I feel nothing
My heart feels nothing
I have to admit .
It feels a lot better than the pain
The Clock Is TickingThe clock is ticking when you wake up...
When you make your beds,
Brush your teeth,
Take your shower,
Iron your clothes,
and get ready to start your day
The clock is ticking during the day...
When you're at school thriving to get an education,
Or when you're in your office managing portfolios,
Or when you're out in the middle of an important event or presentation,
Or when even when you're just taking a break from it all
The clock is ticking when you find love...
Through the good times,
The bad times,
And the heart breaks
The clock is ticking on your death bed..
While you wait silently,
Ponder your life experiences,
Reminiscing over the good times,
Laughing about the bad times,
And enjoying the overpowering feeling of peace..
But, what happens when the clock stops ticking....?
You've seen it tick as time flew by,
And heard it tick as the seconds faded away...
But what happens after that?...
What do you see?
What do you hear?
What can you feel?
What can you smell?
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More