desolatedaughter

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She Is Gone by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

She Is Gone

She is gone And in these night hours I feel her loss all the keener The numbness seeps away with the daylight and as the night rolls in - and it rolls in dark and all consuming - It cocoons me in the pain of her loss The immensity of it strikes with such a shocking stunning blow Leaving me winded But before I can recover my breath it is there Loss pulling me in every direction Tearing me apart Ripping at the seams And somehow this pain is beautiful Because I am surrounded by her Every corner, every thought, every smile Yet in all the perfect agony i wonder - is this pain even real? Like the memories in slow motion Or the pictu

Stolen by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

Stolen

He pulled her down and ripped her shirt He shoved her face into the dirt He bit her neck and tore her skin She fought so hard not to let him in But his hand was pushed between her thighs The other muffled her futile cries Tears slid silently down her face His excitement made his breathing race A few sharp blows to her head And she lay still, as if dead Bloodied pants were cast aside He violently thrust his way inside The sickened fantasy finally satisfied So the stranger ran away to hide He left his quarry exposed and bare And the fiend fled back to his lair Her tattered body, maybe one day restored That broken shell that has

Remembering Again by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

Remembering Again

I turn around and my blood runs cold. I can't help but stare, rooted to the spot in total disbelief. I watch as she throws her arms around his neck and plants her lips against his cheek, his hands tangling in her blonde hair as he returns her embrace. Her eyes are smiling, a combination of intoxication and a thrill at being surrounded by people who adore her. I adore her too but can only feel betrayed. My former pleasure in the crowded room with its too-loud music dissipates. Suddenly I can feel the bodies that push against me and I can smell the muskiness of the room, the scent of a place that never really tastes fresh air. And now sh

Shift Back to Reality by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

Shift Back to Reality

It happens sometimes. I'll be floating, having fallen into a comfort I can't remember owning and then it shifts. Suddenly everything is all wrong. The edges are too sharp, the colours too bright, and I am forced to rememeber that the comfort never lasts. It's not my life, this one that I think I've been living. No, mine is a life of black and shades of gray, jagged edges and words delivered by forked tongues. I am yanked back to a painful reality, a darkness so all consuming that it is hard to believe I ever thought I could escape this. Even in the glaring sunlight my shadows are never far away as they stalk this futile pursuit of happi

Untitled II by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

Untitled II

Alone. At last. Yet always so alone. The voices that hunt her down are no comfort to this endless isolation. Always wanting, always dreaming but never does she get what is her due. Her's is a life left unrealised. There is no smile on the face of another who awaits her return- only the angry shout of raised voices an uninterested glance perhaps a command but never a welcome. There is no warmth in her winter, no comforting arms to ward off the chill- nothing but a cold which seeps into the bones unshakeable, unbearable this eternal season. And so she wanders always apart, always other- a child marked with the scars of a broke

The Final Release by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

The Final Release

A single tear slides from beneath her closed eyelid A tear filled with anguish and despair. A single drop of blood slides from beneath the sharp point of her blade winding a track down her arm to rest in the crook of her elbow. A crimson pool fed by a creek the pool slowly rising Now a river flowing strong and sweet The pool - no longer a pool simply a resting place on the pathway to Freedom. A purging of pollutants A punishment for past sins but most of all the only power The final control over her broken soul. And so the blade slides Longer... Deeper... Singing its final lament, A bittersweet goodbye Then The final

Untitled by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

Untitled

You tower over me, judging me with hatred in your eyes, your spit hitting my face like angry flames. Your words etch themselves into my mind to be replayed in the privacy of the night hours when I will let your daggers butcher and scar me until my soul is twisted beyond recognition. But for the moment I stand solid, an unbreakable wall devoid of emotion with ice in my eyes and my jaw squared. As you raise your hand I do not flinch but with a slight tilt of my head I offer my cheek so you can brand me with your rage. And as the heat of the mark you have left is worming its way down my neck I am calm, almost fearless in this state of empti

On Opposite Sides by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

On Opposite Sides

An emptiness so great it cannot be filled A life so unwanted yet it cannot be killed. No shadow of hope nor a whisper of light Longing for the fall from imeasurable height. Such silence between them; a fog unbroken And yet the noise is unbearable, heavy with words unspoken. Aching to cry out the thoughts stampeeding through her mind But the courage needed to speak them is one she cannot find. So there they sit, separated by the great divide Of love undicovered and of happiness untried. To hard to break free of their self inflicted exile They're a shadow in the glass, hollowness hidden by a smile.

Things Will Change by desolatedaughter, literature

Loosing My Grip by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

Loosing My Grip

I struggle to hold on As the world keeps shifting Slipping in and out of focus, Rearranging and reorganising. The colours bleed together The edges blur, Their sharpness softened And I stumble to my feet The ground spinning beneath me The sky crushing me with its weight And suddenly I hear the ocean in my ears I taste salt in my mouth I feel a lightness in my head Dizziness propelling me forwards... backwards... I sway to the rhythm of the waves Beating relentlessly against my sanity. I am surrounded by roses Crimson roses Dripping colour And I open my eyes only to realise the ocean is a gushing tap The salt in my mouth is

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Drowning by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

Drowning

The world should be at my feet So why is it on my shoulders? Stumbling in the dark The weariness produced by pain Shackled to the monotony of unhappiness Chains dragging through the dirt Calloused hands and feet Smoke in my lungs Struggling Drowning in the endless pool of sorrow That I've created with my tears And slowly I sink The irons sucking me under And I follow the heavy chain links Down down down And lay at the bottom Slowly buried beneath the sand by The ebb of the tide; disguising me... My memory already forgotten

Escape by desolatedaughter, literature

Goodbye Nonno by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

Goodbye Nonno

I am writing this essay to put into perspective and reflect on an experience that has changed my character and my outlook on life. The death of my grandfather occurred when I was very young and I don't think that the full impact has hit me until now. By writing all this down and filtering through my memories I hope to put everything in order, and more importantly to let myself settle the feeling in my heart as a young adult and to come to terms with the full affects of what has occurred. I write this piece to Nonno Giovanni (my grandfather). I write about this experience now because I hope that I can use my maturity to put things into pe

Loosing My Grip by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

Loosing My Grip

Things Will Change by desolatedaughter, literature

On Opposite Sides by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

On Opposite Sides

Untitled by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

Untitled

The Final Release by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

The Final Release

Untitled II by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

Untitled II

Shift Back to Reality by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

Shift Back to Reality

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daughter by SuddenlyAutumn, literature

Literature

daughter

I find her in my kitchen, one ordinary morning with the harsh winter sun tipping full through the window. I haven't seen her for six months, and yet here she is, bruised knees pulled up under her chin, the light pouring through her hair like dull bronze. Despite the cold she is only wearing shorts and an old gray t-shirt, two sizes too big. Upon hearing my footsteps she looks up from picking at her nails, covered in chipped black polish, multicolored threads and silver rings slipping down her wrists. Her hair is tangled and long; longer than I can ever remember, and she tucks it behind an ear studded with piercings that glint in the dark stra

Loss, in Five Acts by brassteeth, literature

Literature

Loss, in Five Acts

i. Return Through a dark tunnel of bent birch and cedar I walk. Soft moss on cobblestone. Home. The tilted bird bath drips with tea coloured rain. Vines snake up old walls even as the sandstone crumbles. Decaying gutters sag with sad, welcoming smiles, heavy with dead leaves and the fallout of terracotta tiles. ii. Memory On her lap, in the evening, swinging on the front porch chair. Humming a lullaby, she whispers softly and marks with a brush of her ringless finger, magpie and minor, chicken and hen and then, soft kisses on my cheek for bed. At the bus stop, she is squinting and waving and waiting. At hometime, she i

No poetry by eowyntje, literature

Literature

No poetry

No poetry was written, No fairytales were read. As if it was forbidden, By the monsters in her head. And all they thought was silly, Was quickly thrown away. By a girl who had to grow up, By a girl who couldn't play. All her dreams and fantasies, All her fears and hopes. Thrown in a bag of garbage, Balloons and skipping ropes. The teddybears and puzzles, All had to retreat. For new puzzles in her head, She never would complete. No poetry was written, No fairytales were told. Her eyes spoke of a sad tale, Her hands were always cold. She thought of no white horses, For she was no princess. Her life was about papers,

Breath Now, You're Free by navajo-sunshine, literature

Literature

Breath Now, You're Free

Breath Now You’re Free Close your eyes I just want you to breath now, Close your eyes and breath Let it all go now, You’re safe now, You’re here now. I just want you to inhale Let it all go, Breath in deep, And close your eyes, Let it all go now, You’re here now, You’re safe now. Release and let it all go I promise you’ll make it I promise it’ll be so, So much better now Here you’ll always have a place to go So just relax now, This will all be over soon And the years will fall by And the tears will dry You don’t have to let them in We’ll sacrifice ourselves so they neve

Insomnia-A dark nursery rhyme by ladynyk, literature

Literature

Insomnia-A dark nursery rhyme

Insomnia: twinkle twinkle little pain I see you've come to play again lodged here in my soul so tight turning brightness into night twinkle twinkle tearing ache please let me sleep to never wake…. …now I lay me down to sleep my life in tatters at my feet.. if I should Wake before I die I pray these tattered wings can fly.. twinkle twinkle empathic strain I never want to feel again trapped here in this world so cold where self is wrong and Us is gold. twinkle twinkle falling tear.. how i wonder why i'm here..

stop ruining autumn. by estallidos, literature

Literature

stop ruining autumn.

listen: fall makes me think of leaving and of apple cider, though i never liked apple cider. but i liked the idea of it. listen: two years ago i met a boy as fragile as dead leaves who called me his little spring girl. (i'd always liked autumn the best.) he kissed the two soft dimples on the small of my back and told me helikedme helovedme hewantedme. and oh, by the way, "everything good must come to an end." listen: on our one year anniversary we picked out two pumpkins and i drew elephants on them for us to carve. he cut his out so aggressively that it lost its shape. lopped off tusks and broken trunks became just a large, jagged ho

Necromancer's Lullaby by sirannon, literature

Literature

Necromancer's Lullaby

Hush little baby, don't you cry Daddy's gonna sing you a lullaby Of death and darkness and eerie things That travel the night on gilded wings Of witches and demons and monsters so fierce Of battles and swords and arrows that peirce Of the spells and secrets of my sacred Art That darken even the purest heart And if, through it all, you begin to fear Remember that I am always here So take the legacy I gift to thee And when I am gone, remember me.

ALONE by Mushi-No-Iki, literature

Literature

ALONE

No one can see the pain that we hide, They're happy for us to keep it inside, Our fear is our own; they don't want to know, Why sould we involve them; why should it show. You live your whole life in confusion and fear, The need to feel something unbearably near, Half of you living, Half of you gone, And inside you know what your doing is wrong. The thing's that can help, the thing's that may heal, Are the flame or the blade and the sting of the steel, The destruction of skin means the death of your soul, But there's nowhere to run when your living alone.

Porcelain Doll by deadlypoison695, literature

Literature

Porcelain Doll

Porcelain doll with tangled hair, People pass or stop and stare, Her cotton clothes are ripped and torn, Her parents regret the day she was born, Her plastic heart has melted down, Her stunning smile, a perfect frown, Her shining future, a blackened road, Her flowing words, a fucked up code. Once glowing eyes, now dark and dead, And voices scream inside her head, A falling rain of acid tears, Mirrors reflecting all her fears, A fire raging through her veins, Drugs to reduce all her pains, Her porcelain skin, now scarred and bruised, Her staggering beauty, now gone and used. A foreign beauty, now buried alone, A cryptic place

Deviation Spotlight

Stolen by desolatedaughter, literature

Literature

Stolen

desolatedaughter

About desolatedaughter

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Australia
Deviant for 17 years
She / Her

Badges

My Bio

female, 19, melbourne, australia, university, employed, straight, tired.

Current Residence: Down Under
Favourite genre of music: almost anything.
MP3 player of choice: iPod
Shell of choice: freshly cut grass, vanilla, calvin klein perfumes, my nonna's roses, coffee
Skin of choice: olive/nicely tanned
Favourite cartoon character: roadrunner and kyote - donald and daffy - tweetie bird
Personal Quote: war does not determine who is right but only who is left

Favourite Visual Artist

so many

Favourite Movies

lord of the rings, pan's labrynth, the kingdom, BBC stuff, casino royale... the list goes on an

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

the fray, missy higgins, lotr soundrack, thirsty merc, dean martin, sinatra, buble, annie lennox

Favourite Writers

ann bishop, tolkein, rowling, zusak, elizabeth gaskell, austen, bronte, meyer, picoult - its endless

Favourite Games

football (AFL and soccer), waterpolo, drinking games :P

Tools of the Trade

my favourite pen and a laptop

Other Interests

sports (watching and playing), reading, writing, music, friends, partying

Posts

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desolatedaughter

Jul 30, 2009

missing you

0 min read

girl i miss you like crazy hope its easier wherever you are now. keep smiling - yours is a beautiful one. xox

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desolatedaughter

May 6, 2009

Devious Journal Entry

0 min read

Got a poem done.  It just came to me.  Best feeling.  Hope it lasts.  Maybe I'll start writing prose again eventually.  You know what they say - dream big.  Maybe I'll even move on from all the chaotic dark stuff too.  That won't be for a long time yet though, I don't think.  Well, whatever.  Just so happy to breakthrough the wall, no matter how briefly for... baby steps.

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desolatedaughter

May 5, 2009

Devious Journal Entry

0 min read

So I don't think anyone reads this stuff anyway - at least not on my site.  But I've never tried this journal thing and I figure that maybe it's a constructive way to deal with stuff (not that I'm dealing with anything serious) since I don't know anyone who may read this. But you know that feeling that you get sometimes as though things have been going too well with you and it won't last.  Well I had that feeling and as usual it's true.  It's as though when things finally pick up you need something else to come crashing down just do keep you balanced, to remind you that you'll always have that dark place and you better remember it.  The hard

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Profile Comments 3

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Thanks.

thanks for the

ok ok so now that we're both on here together we need to make sure to post our new stuff

this is gonna motivate me to write again now...i haven't done so in ages! neways if you ever find something really good on here favourite it and let me know coz chances are ill like it too!
love ya my fucked up friend
xo