Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mermaids cry with freshwater tears,
Dreaming of handsome sailors who do not flee in fear,
Or even mermen to share their dream with,
For mermaids are alone.

Sirens cry with silent sobs which no one hears,
For their voice,
Even lost and forlorn,
Would only entice further lovers to watery deaths.

Dryads tears drip heavy from leaves of great trees,
Their pain giving life to the forest,
Even as their love ensorcels their soul mates,
And their heart cries out the truth,
What is bound cannot be freely given,
And is forever changed.
If I was a mountain

That soared towards the sky,

With craggy snow caps

And stormy grey eyes-



Then you'd be the clouds

That swaddled my peak,

That silenced my thunder

When I tried to speak.



If I was the earth

The desert, in fact:

With arid dry soil

And mud, baked and cracked-



You'd be the rain

The downpour that soothed;

The balm to my bruises,

Relief to my wounds.



If I was the Moon

In the indigo night,

With stars as my blanket

And silver; my light-



Well you'd be the Sun

Just always behind

That lent me your glow

And caused me to shine.
This is you,
Its about you, how you adorned a veil
And hid beneath it all your life.
When the deepest of your thoughts,
Turned and gave their evil smile,
All you could think was how much
In the dark, you could be who you are.
And looking at the mirror
All you could see were the scars.
The despair in your voice
Sadly no one bothered to give you a hand.
You'd pluck at yourself all day and night
Thinking what you see is all that there is to what you are...

This is me, myself and I
This soul behind the skin, no longer has a voice, a heart
An undertone, I choose to hide in the dark
This mirror lies, but I can't see through that
Clawing at the surface, stabbing at the fresh wounds,
Letting the blood flow, maybe slash and burn
There should be something behind this disgrace
This face, no perfection, no longer a sight
The curves of my mouth always turned down
And my eyes can't see past the tears...

This is all just me,
    Its about me, how I see myself
        In the mirror, in someone else's eyes
             How I close mine, not even dare to look
                 *At the demon that stares back.
Recently came across a documentary about BDD, Body Dismorphic Disorder, a psychological condition characterized by the person excessively obsessing about how they look, sometimes to the extremes of self mutilating themselves.  Often mistook as vanity, these people have a very hard time accepting what they look like.
This is written from an angle a person with the disorder, would write. Of course, the point of why I'm writing this, is to tell you, that YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL. Really. INSIDE, OUT.
As silence sets in your heart
You are aware of the feelings
And the mind becomes agile
The calming effect of silence
Will help to rearrange beliefs
Silence is the subconscious
Speaks louder than words
It is built on a solid foundation
Firm against sinister forces
Silence is a bundle of energy
It withstands barrage of baloney
Unwavering support of silence
Cocoons the soul in happiness
Silence is retaliation
Of the soul which is strong
Only the strong can wield silence
To make an emphatic statement
Silence is not absence of action
Words are a spent force
When it holds no meaning
Some, hiding behind its guile
Douse the ominous intentions
With silence as your defense
Silence is deafening to a noisy world









© Amitav (Radiance)
Against the current tide I go.
Becoming what? I don't know.
Cunning words cut to the core,
Dragging down the soft
Energy of one's empty soul.
Fathomless in cycle, a
Gale of bitterness blows: but still I go.
Hiding from the wind, and
Isolated from survivors.
Jesting at worries, but
Knowing that there will always be a
Longing to live when there was
More to live up to.
None will know where there should have been
Openness to the pain,
Placating the desire to
Quomodocunquize what is not ours.
Remaining unchanged will
Supplicate to the
Terrorizing world, teaching the
Unguarded mind to fear.
Vulnerable to much, there are more
Wanweirds finding their ways to
Xerophagy and suicide
Yearning to go back to safety.
Zatetic hearts might survive.
Epeolatry Definition: Worship of words.
Kiss me deeply
Feel me sigh
Touch me softly
Caress my face
Trace my lips
With yours?

Would you kindly.....
Need me again
Dance in the rain
Hold me close
Whisper soft words
Heal my wounds?

Would you kindly.....
Stay with me
Until we are no more
Never forget me
Always trust me
Always love me?
© JLB
01/06/2014 (June)
Next page