| Ok everyone, from now on if you do not Submit your art work to the correct folder I am just going to decline and leave it at that.|
I am tired of having to message people all the time for putting things in the incorrect folder. I don't know if you're just not paying attention to the folder selection or if you don't know what type of art it is that you do. I mean you do have to pick a category for it to be in when you upload your work correct?
So that should pretty much give it away!!
Well pay attention and enjoy your stay here!
The Therapist (And others like me)I originally came up with the name ‘The Therapist’ as a joke of what one of my acquaintances had called me. I don’t really have friends, not really. I’m me of course, so I naturally have people who don’t get my sense of humor or who I really am as a person, but that’s fine, even I don’t get it at times.
So I decided to come up with a short explanation on who The Therapist really is, and what The Therapist does.
The Therapist was supposed to be a Serial Killer. Period. That’s about it, maybe that explains a lot, but The Therapist was supposed to be a dangerous character that seems to haunt me every so often when I’m deep in thought. Course, me being a human being, my own demons are a part of who I am so when I was referred to as ‘The Therapist’, I laughed it off, and with a little thought came up with my pseudonym to write short-bits like this.
I am a person, believe it or not, I actually believe I&
CourageYou hang in a gang
full of bravado
who reminds you of you
the you on the inside
the one who is scared all the time
the one you hide from
when you hang in a gang
I walk alone
through your taunts and jeers
Could you do what I do?
Something Worth SavingDays remain the same
pushed and shoved
with unwelcome faces
that don't ever smile
books clasped to chest
finger prints digging in
quick walk steps
a soft patter
lost in the echoes
of pointless chatter
I appear somewhat unreal
the cardigan sleeves
hiding signs of indentations
that have stopped bleeding
but still hurt when I flex
formulation of specific events
define days broken up into sections
of different circles of hell
pushes and pulls
trips that fall
anger that spreads
mouths that whisper unkind words
at the sound of days end bell
a quick escape
is all I need
to be in a place far from anybody
where I can be me
under boughs of summer trees
plastic wires dangle
holding up my creativity
homeade hearts and stars
with faces that smile
there's something worth saving inside me after all
Anti-Bullying Poem*ring* *ring*
The dreaded golden bell sounds its call. The doors close in 5 minutes with no remorse for late comers. The one child, older than me, stronger than me, walks up. Backing away to the depths of the corner, I'm scared. Terrified. Already hurt by his presence. He raises a fist at me and I remember no more of the situation to come...
Rushing to class. A group stops in the hall. In front of my small, scrawny figure. The girls are back. With their leather jackets and fancy jewelry, I know they are better than me. Meaner to the ones they don't call "pretty enough". One turns as I walk by.She shouts something terrible to the whole universe it seems. The teachers turn their backs. No administrator pays any attention. They don't care. She comes up and trips me. The rest of the hall and
Hell on earth must endWhile reading, listen to this song "Vampires Lullaby " it'll set you in the mood and it goes great with the poem :Listen while reading www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNbaMo…
Hell on earth must end
I have to walk to school now,
since my heart and mind would disallow.
All those sea of words,
the firsts, the seconds and the thirds.
Come in by the dozen everyday,
but today the shadows had caught me as their prey.
They had out smarted me once more.
I looked over my shoulder to see the tribe of four,
I'm now in the middle of war.
I run for my life to survive,
just to stay alive.
But where do i run to?
This crew is stuck to me like glue,
there isn't a safe heaven to be seen.
In the distance i see another teen!
She must help me,
just to by me time to flee.
I can't do this to her,
since it wouldn't make anything better.
She's my best friend,
my running ends.
She steps in front of me and holds them off.
While i'm standing there like i'm nothing but a wimp,
She started to loose energy.
Bullies have many namesThe defeater
Goes by so many names
But that doesn't tell you who they are...
I've known them as...
But no matter how you call them
Two VoicesTwo Voices
Two voices emerged from a chaotic brain.
You'll never make it, or be it,
you must be insane
to think that others care about your life
or about what you do.
You're just pathetic;
who'd care about you?
Two voices emerge from a brain lacking power.
You're nothing, you're worthless,
oh see how you cower
at us; our voices and presence.
You'll never make it
if you're even scared of our essence.
Two voices emerge in the harsh light of day.
At a school, at a college,
at a work place, oh hey,
why not on the street, a random passer-by.
You're stupid, fat, ugly;
Should be squished like a fly.
Two voices emerge; a head that was once whole.
You're nothing, you're empty...
...don't believe in those trolls...
believe in these voices instead of what's true;
believe in the voices, believe in their view.
Or do you hear through the voices,
hear through their sound.
Hear through the people trampling you like the ground
beneath their feet, the ground where you once
Sticks and StonesDon't tell me sticks and stones
hurt more than words ever will.
Don't tell me a broken bone
hurts more than a broken heart.
I've heard it all before
don't want to hear it again
Because it's wrong.
Sticks and stones are just
sticks and stones
but words are knives, bullets,
The only difference is
you can't see the damage
on the inside.
Can you see the Band-Aids on my heart?
Put a cast on your broken leg,
wait for it to heal.
But put a cast on your broken heart,
try to hide your brokenness
from the world.
You can't heal a broken heart.
If someone breaks,
and no one around chooses to hear,
do they make a sound?
Or are they drowned out
by the sound of life around them?
Are they dismissed as background noise
by the very people who
say that they care?
Can you hear the sound of hearts breaking?
Open your eyes
take the plugs out of
And choose to see
the broken hearts all
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