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I Guess There's Always Something Killing MeI guess there's always something killing me.
An angry bear,
Or killer bees.
There's always something hunting me down.
Either Freddy Krueger,
Or a murderous clown.
There's always something chasing me away.
A bunch of zombies,
Or a bunch of posessed original Lays.
There's always something attacking my life.
Sometimes an angry moose,
Or a squirrel with a schythe.
There's always something kicking my ass.
Either Bruce Lee back from the dead,
Or an angry Majora that's been harassed.
There's always something killing me.
A rabitized turtle,
Or a Kraken from the sea.
Falling Off A Bridge At 2 AMI step upon the bridge of life.
And say this is my final strife.
I jump off, into the sea below.
And plumet into the mounds of snow.
I fall into the desert sand.
Into the one and only, Odin's hand.
I fall upon the raven's back.
Fall into a musketeer's pack.
I fall into the sky above.
Into the mouth of a turtle dove.
I step off and fall onto my floor,
My cat scratching annoyingly at my door.
I've fallen off my bed again,
And it's only 2 AM.
She'd Write A SongShe told herself she'd write a song.
One with bells that flow along.
She told herself she'd write a tune.
Harp and guitar, something new.
She told herself she'd write a melody.
One that sways and hits perfect keys.
She told herself she'd compose her thoughts.
Any instrument her mind brought.
She told herself she'd make a rhapsody.
And play it throughout all the cities.
She told herself she'd sing her heart.
Take her feelings and make them art.
I told myself the song would be as gently as the flight of a dove.
And that I'd write this song for my wonderful love.
Melody Of A HeartbeatOn his shoulder, her head lay at rest.
She listened to the pounds within his chest.
She listened to the heart that beat for her.
Her heart also beat for this loving sir.
Soon, she felt that sleep was near.
A love's heartbeat;
The most calming sound a person can hear.
Her eyes grew tired as they held each other close.
They both lay, drifting to sleep, venturing wherever their dream goes.
Their smiles remained as they slept.
In each other's arms, their figures kept.
His pounding heart lulled her to sleep.
There's a place in her heart, for him, she will always keep.
Little Allain Would Always ComplainThere once was a girl named Allain.
Who would always, constantly, complain!
"Mommy, mommy, my pants won't fit!
Daddy, daddy, where's my makeup kit?!
Brother, brother, where's my toy?
Sissy, sissy, I hate boys!
Aunty, aunty, this homework's hard!
Uncle, uncle, 'no money in this card!
Grampa, grampa, I ripped my dress!
Grandma, grandma, my hair's a mess!
Niece, niece, I hate your clothes!
Nephew, nephew, snap out of your doze!"
Would always complain.
Until she snapped her neck.
Two Little BirdsTwo little birds, singing loud.
Their stance faithful, honorable, proud.
Singing loud of happiness and love.
Their voice soft as feather's of a dove.
Two little birds, happy and free.
Singing as loud as their voices can be.
Singing as loud as their heart will beat.
Their eyes closed as they tap their feet.
She lays in bed, on the phone.
Listening to his monotone.
She doesn't care how he sings.
So much comfort, his voice brings.
He sits on his bed, his eyes closed.
She sings to him, making him doze.
She has a voice, like the coo of a dove.
Her heart pounds as she sings to her love.
They sing to eachother, day and night.
Their eyes shining, sparking with delight
Those Beautiful Birds That Never SingIt was going to be happy, it was going to be grand. But actually, this is my final stand.
We were going to be away, far from the pain. But now, it's all such a strain.
We were going to be safe, we were going to be free. But truly, we are as caged as we could ever be.
We're those beautiful birds, that always sing.
Of the feeling that being locked up brings.
They sing and sing, wishing someone would understand.
Only wanting to fly away, not to come back to that land.
We sing, we sing, mourning every day.
Wishing we were in each other's arms, wasting the time away.
We sing to the skies, waiting for Freya's reply.
Can she even hear our cries?
So many tests we've been given by fate.
I will sing and sing, until it's too late.
Until it's too late to save this little bird.
The one who everyone thought spoke beautiful words.
But she sang of sadness, longing, guilt and demand.
Each word, no one could understand.
The only one who understood, and listened with all his heart,
Was her little bird, w
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More