Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

ashflee0 on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/ashflee0/art/Perched-547848129ashflee0

Deviation Actions

Suggested Deviants

Peghan

Literature

Sacrfices Made for Perfection

Every person who wakes up in the morning, every person who breathes air, every person who laughs and cries, they all strive for the same thing. Some are conscious of this longing, others are not. It doesn't matter which, but deep down every human being strives for perfection. Wishes float in purples skies of brilliance. These wishes are for abilities far beyond those of anyone living. Athletes want to run like cheetahs and have the strength of bears. Singers cry themselves to sleep at night, yearning for the talent of angels. Mothers want to love and always be loved in return, whilst carpenters want their work to be as intricate as

Literature

Teach Me How To Be Inspired

Someone came up to me once, his eyes were grey and soft, and he asked me, "Teach me how to write, please?" Frowning, I looked at him, "Write what?" "Teach me how to write beautiful poetry, I need to be able to write poetry," he paused, "But I never know what to write about...." In that moment I understood my friend's problem, "Okay," I said, "Write about the reflection of the sun's light on water. Write about how at sunset it bleeds its rays out onto the wet sand to create copper fields. Write about the gritty grip of that sand between your toes, like the most adoring lover it'll never let you go and you'll spend the rest of your

Literature

He Should've Said No

A pair of smooth, pale lips leaned towards his ear, "Come with me." The boy's grey eyes widened, "No." The lips continued to speak, words burrowed like little murmuring worms into the boy's love-sick brain, "I can show you the world. You'll never know what you missed unless you come with me." "No." But his heart was thumping. "I can play you such sweet music." "No." Yet, despite his refusal, the boy's feet were itching. "Let me show you how the sunshine can glitter off sand on far-flung beaches-" "No." "-As the sun sets on the horizon." "No!" the boy almost shouted. Twitching, the lips smiled, "Are you

thegreatpoetnick119

Literature

Please

Please, somebody notice i'm drowning in a ocean of my own emotion Please, somebody notice the silence swallowing me up once more Please, somebody notice, i hate myself with all my heart Why won't anybody see that i am slowly dissolving away It doesn't matter I'm not worth saving I am a failure through and through I am so tired of hating myself I am so tired of nobody seeing what is happening to me My only friend is the razor that bites into my skin Maybe next time i'll cut deeper Maybe next time, i won't survive So much blood everywhere Paint the walls with it Everybody look at my art Isn't it beautiful I need more paint, more

Literature

Cutters Rain

Down pours the bloody rain Each containing the bloody faces of those who score their flesh See them crash to the ground Watch the faces burst into a thousand gleaming droplets Stand in the rain and let the blood cover your body Learn from it Cause if you can see the bloody faces You are soon to be one of them

Literature

Tell Death Do We Part

They say tell death do we part But if we love this much, are we not already dead For if we love so much We have no room for nothing else Just as death leaves no room for happiness, for sadness, for anything All that is left is the empty void from beyond Death and the heart go hand in hand down a dirty cobbled road street that is your life One exist on the path On exist off Yet the still walk hand in hand You may ask why they do this They have the same destination The end of your life The end of your rational thought The fear of loss The fear of the ending All these things they have in common This is why death holds your heart

Ravenatawritingdesk

Literature

Misplaced Nostalgia

She was the kind of girl who always felt that she had a great deal to say, could never quite find the words to say it. Grand, vague ideas and hypnotically hazy sentiments glimmered in the dark, bumping and crashing and blurring together at the edges until they left her hopeless, drained and exhausted from an age-old attempt to etch the stars behind her eyelids into letters to no one. I was the kind of boy who was effortlessly, horrifically adept at the art of the soapbox. I felt, at the age of thirteen, that after a long and horrifically complex journey I knew what I wanted to be: liked. Talent didn't factor into it, ability wasn't important

Literature

Contradiction

Because I only smile when I'm crying I'm only honest when I lie And I can't do anything well anymore But this is me, and I'm alright. Yes, this is me, and I'm still breathing. This is me, and I'm still here. And if you thought your words could change me, This is me, and I don't care.

Literature

The Girl Who Has Everything

And she really is Quite the beautiful girl. Quite the talented poet. Quite the genius artist. How can she feel bad about herself? How can she want to be someone else, When every time I read her poem, See her picture, Hear her voice, I know I'd give anything to be like her? What can I say to the girl Who's scared of herself? I think She's not afraid that she can't do it. She's afraid that she can Better than anyone else could even dream to. I think What this all comes down to Is that she's scared &

Suggested Collections

poetry

Literature

The Girl Who Was Afraid To Be

She speaks to me fondly of passions and talents, of guitars and stars, with such breathless intensity then stops short and apologises for speaking at all. All because somewhere in her life, someone she loved broke her heart by ignoring her beautiful words and telling her to shut up, keep it down, nobody cares. People aren’t born sad. We make them that way.

Literature

My Worst Ememy

I can't stand her, The girl in the mirror. She's me, but not me. She's the girl the world sees, Happy and always laughing, Always kind and polite, As friendly as she needs to be. That's not me. I'm sad and feel like crying, Kind to only the people I know and like Faking friendliness to strangers when I have to. I can't stand her, The girl in the mirror. She's annoying with all she pretends to be. I want to be someone else. I'm tired of the constant fights with her, She always wins. So I take it out on her when I'm alone, And no one can stop me. I'm my own worst enemy, You see. Mentally beating myself up, At first, Try

Literature

Anorexia

'You're so skinny!' 'You don't need to lose weight!' 'You look great!' Lies…all lies. I know the truth. Too many pounds here, too many there. Hips, stomach, butt… I want it all gone. I need it to be gone. Eat less, exercise more…it's such a simple problem to fix. So I eat when I need to. Doesn't even need to be everyday. It's usually something small. Carrots, celery, a handful of nuts…It's just enough to get me through the day. You want to know my daily routine? Fine. I run a few miles everyday. It took some time to get used to it, but I had to adjust to reach my goal. No one else knows I do it. I wake in the wee h

Poetry

Literature

On self-love

Maybe who she really loves, is the name of the boy she thinks of, while she lines her chatoyant eyes with charcoal maybe the name she really needs to think of, is her own.

Literature

Unaware

When you are two and five and ten you are unaware –– of the cactus in the windowsill, how, fragile, each quill bends and breaks and falls apart.–– Twelve years later, on a Tuesday, you dream about a boy who bumps his head on an iron slate and you wake in a cold sweat. You are twelve when you are always bumping shoulders. Twenty-two years of Thursday. There is nothing at all. And you wonder (and you wonder why) each time you wake. The cactus in the window bleeds with you when you bump it. No one ever mentioned frightened things bite. So you have always been unaware.

Literature

ripples on a blank shore (#15)

in rainbows with a petrichor veil; you've caught my breath in palms covered in dandelions' dust, my longing, an uncovered explosion of drafts hidden from the both of us. but i reach out, knowing wind-chime silence is a possibility as it has always been; knowing the doldrums of my harrowing echoes could be the only reality i'm pressed against, but i'm more than willing to risk my heart and expose it to the weight of sorrow if there's a sliver of a shot that we can be together. suspended in the contingency of the unknown, i hope your wrung hands red with distortion & blue with disappearance, make your way back to the greying soles of my

poetry

Literature

Featherdance (Poem)

Listen closely, and you may hear The sound of sacred fire. Its ancestry flickers in a thousand Colors, all within the hearts of unborn heroes. Somewhere deep inside legend, A fringed master slumbers. Its breath sequesters beneath its beak As it dreams in molten gold. Six score, it has lain in wait For its kaleidoscopic guardian. A spirit akin to its veined own, In suit and solemn as he. The skies grow dapper without The grace of its marbled wings And the elegance of the feathers That heal the lame and the ungainly. Its dogs look toward the heavens, Listening for its sacred fire. The hours and the days atrophy And crumb

Literature

Lavender Town

What is that? What do you hear? You look as if You've seen a ghost. Let them speak to you; All their tormented souls Wish is for a living heart To become one with theirs. The plague of sorrow racks These doleful townsmen, As they wander vacant streets With hunched shoulders. He is crying for his mother; Can you feel his tears? You cannot, for you—you— You are like all the others. Please, be their guest, And let them creep beneath your skin. They mean you immortal joy, And no harm shall haunt you. No harm shall haunt you, But they shall instead, Their stoicism patient as they Wait for you to crumble. He is

Literature

Trust

Trust. It's something earned, Not given. It's like an ember of my heart, Placed inside yours To hold and protect. Extinguishing it or throwing it away Will break our bond, It may never be repaired. Don't try to steal an ember, For it's not rightfully yours Until I personally place it in your chest. Once it's there, It grows and strengthens Until it's a fire. A fire of trust That can't be extinguished That can't be thrown out. It will always be there, Linking me to you.

Featured in Groups

Perched

ashflee0

Published: Jul 21, 2015

204 Views

bug dragonfly insect nature naturephotography

Image size

4272x2848px 4.48 MB

Make

Canon

Model

Canon EOS REBEL T3

Shutter Speed

1/512 second

Aperture

F/8.0

Focal Length

300 mm

ISO Speed

2000

Date Taken

Jul 1, 2015, 11:42:01 AM

Lens

EF75-300mm f/4-5.6

Sensor Size

22mm

Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License

Comments0

Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In

DeviantArt - Homepage

DeviantArt Facebook DeviantArt Instagram DeviantArt Twitter

About Contact Core Membership DeviantArt Protect

Developers Advertise Terms of Service Etiquette

Careers Privacy Policy Copyright Policy Help and FAQ

Watch Team and join our Community Group for the latest updates and activities.

Join Community