ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
To whom it may concern,
I know you. I know all about you, and all the things you’ve done. I know about your parents, always fighting. I know about the flowers you hid in your pockets in case you met the girl you were always waiting for. I know about the time you ran away but came right back, because you were afraid. I know about your secret fear of spiders. I know about how you almost thought you were gay in the seventh grade. I know about the questions you didn’t stop asking, and the answers you never found.
Make me a promise. Promise me that when the leaves start to fall, we’ll lie in the foliage and let it paint our souls red and orange and find shapes in the clouds together. Promise me that when I tell you about all the lies, you’ll pull me into your arms and stroke my hair and tell me that it’s okay, even though we’ll both know it’s not. Promise me that you’ll mean it when you say you love me.
When I was little, I didn’t understand why people would ask others to be theirs. I would wonder why I should give myself to you and let you call me yours, like you owned me. I vowed that I would never let anyone call me theirs and that I would belong to nobody but myself. When you ask me to be yours one day, I’ll say yes.
I’m waiting. Come soon? I love you.
Forever yours, me.
I know you. I know all about you, and all the things you’ve done. I know about your parents, always fighting. I know about the flowers you hid in your pockets in case you met the girl you were always waiting for. I know about the time you ran away but came right back, because you were afraid. I know about your secret fear of spiders. I know about how you almost thought you were gay in the seventh grade. I know about the questions you didn’t stop asking, and the answers you never found.
Make me a promise. Promise me that when the leaves start to fall, we’ll lie in the foliage and let it paint our souls red and orange and find shapes in the clouds together. Promise me that when I tell you about all the lies, you’ll pull me into your arms and stroke my hair and tell me that it’s okay, even though we’ll both know it’s not. Promise me that you’ll mean it when you say you love me.
When I was little, I didn’t understand why people would ask others to be theirs. I would wonder why I should give myself to you and let you call me yours, like you owned me. I vowed that I would never let anyone call me theirs and that I would belong to nobody but myself. When you ask me to be yours one day, I’ll say yes.
I’m waiting. Come soon? I love you.
Forever yours, me.
Literature
Fuck You
Fuck you to every teacher who said you're fucking stupid.
Fuck you to every dad who said you'll never make it
Fuck you to every asshole who called you a freak,
and fuck you to all the stereotypes, desensitized by TV.
CHORUS
This is our anthem of open defiance.
We won't give in to this fucking tyranny.
We stick our middle fingers in the air with you.
I'm standing up to take back what is mine.
Fuck you to the people who said "You'll never be a rockstar."
Fuck you to those who said your views don't mean a thing.
Fuck you to the people who judge you by what you wear
Fuck you to those fucks who said "boys can't wear make-up."
CHORUS
Literature
Yes, I Have a Penis
Yes, I Have A Penis
Do not assume (if I hold the door for you),
that I am making a statement
about your inabilities
to open the door for yourself.
If you hold it for me,
I'll say 'thankyou'.
Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),
that I am underestimating
your earning capacity
as a woman.
If you invite me out for a meal,
you're paying.
Do not assume (if I defend your rights),
that I am belittling
the attempts that you have made
to defend your rights yourself.
If you defend my rights,
I'll consider you human.
Literature
I Hate Myself
I hate myself, for all that I've done.
I hate myself, for trying to live.
I hate myself for showing emotion.
I hate myself for attempting to love.
I hate myself with a burning passion.
I hate myself for all that I am.
I hate myself for crying my eyes out.
I hate myself for trying to stand.
I hate myself, nothing can change that.
I hate myself for not having died.
I hate myself for cutting the rope.
I hate myself, for the failed suicide.
I feel the grip of my own self-hatred.
I feel the cold, hard hand of God.
His grip is cruel, his humor worse.
He sent me from being happy, to this lonely rotting hearse.
I hate myself because o
Suggested Collections
don't get lost. comments would be hugely appreciated.
© 2008 - 2024 Mythemia
Comments18
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
This sums up quite a bit for me.