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Literature
I Saw a Man
I saw a man today, as I walked towards a beach in La Paz, Baja California Sur. A man with disgruntled hair and dirty trousers. A man with no shirt or shoes, in 100℉ weather. A man who I saw shifting and looking through a giant trash bin. A bin so big he fit inside. There was another man near him, near his car. This man was clean. With his tidy clothes, clean hair and a phone near his ear. This man looked at the man in the trash bin with distaste, as if he too was as unwanted as the trash he was currently in. As I walked down to the beach I saw a little boy throw away a half eaten ice cream and thought how the man could've possibly enjoyed an ice cream. I stood near some rocks, near the shade. I waited with my uncle, who too chose to not get in the water. After a short while, we walked backed and I looked to see if the man was still in the trash bin, but he was no longer there. As I shifted my gaze to the left, I see the homeless man under the palapa. He was no longer in the trash
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Literature
Untitled
She could not, She would not. She could not bear the thought of grabbing attention, to raise her voice louder than she liked. The eyes of strangers boring into hers. Heads turning as she walks around tables. She could not ask for yellow pepper packets, she wanted to cry. Something as feeble as asking for some condiments and anxiety takes over. She would kill anxiety if it were human, but for now it seems to be killing her. Anxiety, the thought of speaking. Anxiety, the thought of other people. Anxiety and presentations. Anxiety and tests. Anxiety and attention. Anxiety and making friends. Anxiety and overthinking. Anxiety takes over the big and the small, the most complex and simplistic. Anxiety swallows you whole.
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Literature
Untitled
Dear Mr.Death
What is it like?
To see the life taken from your prey's eyes
To take sweet kindred souls of old and young alike?
Fully knowing you will cause sadness beyond measure
Yes, you know who and what death is
Death, both peaceful and painful
Death, as natural as breathing
Death, as pungent as a rose
Death, the same when all ends
Feared, hated, forgotten, and alone
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Literature
This is Our Story
Mutual Understanding
A group of high school kids, some tan and some fair skinned, but nevertheless all Hispanic. All sitting in their assigned advisory seat, they joke about, talk about their futures, and their family. Somewhere along the way, they began talking about their childhood. Isain, a dark skinned boy with black hair had mentioned something they've all done while at stores like La Vallarta. "You know what I used to do? I used to sink my hands in the dry rice and beans." A green eyed, fair skinned girl then added on, "I used to hide the scoop by covering it with the frijoles just so people had to find it." They all laughed, a wave of nostalgia coursing through their hearts. "You know what else?" Every one listened intently to the boy. "If you were to do something to piss of my mom, she'd whoop your ass." "I swear, didn't matter if it was the belt, the chancla or the gancho!" One replied. "Dude, once my mom got so mad she threw the remote." Replied another. But it was at this th
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Literature
This is Our Story
Our Coin Jar
I remember the day we first moved. For years has my single mother wished to have her own house, and now we did. No one to owe rent to, no landlord telling us what we can and can't do. It wasn't as big or as pretty as the ones on the telenovelas my mother watched, but it was ours. I remember the old apartment my mother, sister, and I lived in. An old run down place. A place where beat up trucks were parked in the parking lot and were filled with construction supplies. Where my childhood friends would play tag and hide and go seek out on the streets. A place where everyone referred to as "the ghetto".
We lived paycheck to paycheck.We lived like scavengers, finding and using anything in our sights. I became aware of this when a glass jar, filled with any coins we found, fell. The jar consisted of coins we found lying on the floor at the supermarket. Coins we received as change. My mother had been sweeping the hardwood floor and being unmindful of the jar behind her, she backe
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Literature
This is our Story
The Paletero Man
I rarely ever see him, that man. Sitting under the shade from the tree of a house, waiting for the elementary school day to end. Where he then served to those walking home. His handmade cart consisted of elotes, chicharones, and home made icecream. In my childhood days, he never crossed my mind twice, being too naive to notice the world. After all, ignorance is bliss. It was one day, after coming out from high school when I saw him. The same kind smile and the same red cap. He loaded the red plastic crate he often sat on for when he stood for too long. He pushed his cart from where it was mounted and left. Where does he go? Is selling from his cart part of his earnings? Does he have another job? I never thought about the paletero man, not as a child. The man who sold to those who never said thank you, the same man who greeted every passer by. How did he end up like this? Where does he go?
   
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Literature
Untitled
Glass half full or glass half empty?
Or if you would, a glass half full of air and water?
A world of black and white?
A world of beautiful colors in between?
Or if you would a world where not everything you see is as it seems,
where what you see as yellow may as well be black?
Sugar coating?
Downright jerk?
Or if you would telling it as it is?
Are you either one or the other or a mixture of both?
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Literature
Stolen Heart
Give me back my heart you stealing thief
For without it here I'm deep within grief
And please don't return it ripped to pieces
Or it wouldn't mend without forming creases
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Literature
Don't tell me
Don't tell me you love me
When your so unsure
Don't tell me you'll try
When you don't even plan to start
Don't look into my eyes
For when I look into yours
I see lies
Don't tell me you'll be here forever
Carouse you really mean goodbye
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Escape From Alcatraz by DrawingDreamLyrics Escape From Alcatraz :icondrawingdreamlyrics:DrawingDreamLyrics 0 0
Literature
In between
There is dark and there is light
But what about everything in between because
I reckon there are children that remain unseen
people only look but  never do they see
What there really could be
They never go look
For they fear what remains unknown is surely something they cannot condone
For there is dark and there is light but what about everything in between
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Burning Sensation by DrawingDreamLyrics Burning Sensation :icondrawingdreamlyrics:DrawingDreamLyrics 0 0
Literature
Trust
I know you've been hurt
Hurt a whole lot
You trusted them
Well that's what you thought
It feels as if you've been shot
They took your trust and threw it out the backlot  
They're a thief
They must be caught
If I were to meet them
I'd chop off their head
But sadly they have fled
See in life you must learn to forget all the things they've said
It's not easy i know
It no walk in the park
But you must learn to swim like a shark
Keep moving forward never look back
And that my friend Is a well known fact
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Literature
Through Your Eyes
Sometimes I wish to see through your eyes
To look at all the things you've had to hide
To help you get all these negative emotions out
So you wouldn't have a reason to pout
I'd give you a thousand reasons to shout
To shout in joy
But you have to trust me
That would be the key
To let me see the way you see
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Literature
The Legendary Pheonix
It burns its last flame
As it dives into the pit of fire
It's wings shined brighter
than the morning sky
But now the time has come
Where its ending has begun
But every ending is a beginning
For this legendary bird
And as it turns into ashes
It gives one more cry
The sky darkens only to be lit by a magnificent light
Where a new bird is born
It spreads its wings and
Takes flight
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Canadian Sunset 2 by DrawingDreamLyrics Canadian Sunset 2 :icondrawingdreamlyrics:DrawingDreamLyrics 0 0

Favourites

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Literature
Mental Disorders Should Not Be Romanticized
I believe that people should become more educated about mental illnesses. I believe that words carry heavy
meanings, even the slightest term could provoke a distressing emotion to emerge from the depths of someone’s
being. I believe that all people should be conscientious and acknowledge the fact that some people actually
suffer from the adjectives others throw around. I, most importantly, believe that mental disorders should not be
romanticized.
Imagine it, one in eight teens suffer from depression. So, for all of you uneducated students, dispersing highly
offensive quotes, such as “stressed, depressed, but well dressed” just know that you are consciously belittling the
true denotation of depression for about 375 students that may cross paths with that shirt. People can never be
fully aware of the situation that lies beneath someone’s being. That girl in physics class who everyone decides to
take their emotions out on in a satirical fashion may remember this mo
:iconskytchek:skytchek
:iconskytchek:skytchek 28 20
Literature
Wilted
The delicate plucking of petals that encompass the vulnerability of love itself
Shells of flower swaying in the wind, yet they hit the ground in a storm of bricks
The stems carrying the evergreen pigment of pure jealousy in long-lasting existence
Dancing in the wind with their leaves twirling in a choreographed baile of nature
A man envious of a month’s youth from a portrait is oblivious to his eternity-ridden veins
Seven mornings pass after the awakening of the plant, pollen swirling into the atmosphere
Seven nights pass bearing gifts of sunless, crisp breezes that prune each hugging blade
A supple stalk dressed in idle fronds, something that was once a choice of vibrance
An apprehensive Gray holding up a painting, creating a picnic shade
Shielding seedlings from their meal one-by-one, preventing growth
Blurring the image of a garden into a frivolous background
A man does not realize what is in his grasp
A life pandering on far longer than any sprout
Gray will expire from worry
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:iconskytchek:skytchek 16 17
Life is Strange - Max Caulfield by Laovaan Life is Strange - Max Caulfield :iconlaovaan:Laovaan 4,799 200
Literature
Loving Death
I saw Death again tonight.
He detached himself
from the shadows in the corner
and bowed down next to me
his surprisingly soft cloak
whispering against my cheek.
He had beautiful eyes
hidden deep beneath
endless folds of
stitched together night sky.
Eyes of fire-
a dark flame dancing.
Eyes of ice-
sharp shards cleaving through me.
Eyes of emerald-
the aching memory of the fields on that Summer day.
He stared at me,
a sense of affection flickering through them,
as he curled his icy hands
of worn-through bone
around my wrist.
I didn't fear his touch,
I welcomed it
like that of a lover's embrace.
And he leaned over
bending over my exposed wrist
and gently placed his lips against my flesh.
His mouth was warm-
that of one
who knows all too well
how to kiss goodbye.
My eyes fluttered closed
as death kissed my
blood-soaked arm
feeling him mend my cuts
with his strangely loving touch.
And I stared at him
questions swimming in my eyes-
but he merely
kissed them away, too.
"Not tonight, my dear,
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Activity


I saw a man today, as I walked towards a beach in La Paz, Baja California Sur. A man with disgruntled hair and dirty trousers. A man with no shirt or shoes, in 100℉ weather. A man who I saw shifting and looking through a giant trash bin. A bin so big he fit inside. There was another man near him, near his car. This man was clean. With his tidy clothes, clean hair and a phone near his ear. This man looked at the man in the trash bin with distaste, as if he too was as unwanted as the trash he was currently in. As I walked down to the beach I saw a little boy throw away a half eaten ice cream and thought how the man could've possibly enjoyed an ice cream. I stood near some rocks, near the shade. I waited with my uncle, who too chose to not get in the water. After a short while, we walked backed and I looked to see if the man was still in the trash bin, but he was no longer there. As I shifted my gaze to the left, I see the homeless man under the palapa. He was no longer in the trash bin, but eating something he had found in it. I thought about how bad it must be for him to be forced to scavenge for unwanted food. Said food that has no doubt touched other unsanitary items. Which was also trapped inside a bin, sitting in 100 degree weather with flies surrounding the entire bin. I felt sad, thinking about it. I wanted to hug the man, to take him with me and feed him all that there was. But all I could do was watch him, for I had no money with me. And who knows, maybe the homeless man didn't want to be pitied, didn't want to be given money and seen as man in need of help. But at the same time, who can't help but feel that way for a man who is seen scavenging for something to eat.
She stood watching still, a man on bike making his way to work through the bustling streets full of the impatient people of New York. What is there to life? she wonders. If not all, but the majority of people live like clockwork day in and day out. Leaving with, without, or going to their problems. Humans with the knowledge of knowing one day they will pass, almost as if disappearing from the face of the Earth. She continued to look at the man on the bicycle, wondering that if he were to take his last breath would it matter? Possibly, his loved ones will mourn but will his presence be missed by anyone else? Will the lack of his presence greatly affect the Earth and its people? No. He is nothing but a speck on the Earth and same goes for everyone. What is there to life? She wonders. Humans, most likely do not like to be ignored, do not like to be not missed. Do not like to live feeling empty. So we try to make do with our lives by following, believing, dreaming, and doing.  So enthralled within our own lives, almost as if the world revolves around us. Does what we do really impact anything? What is there to life? Her gaze wandered over to a young man with a cane and his face towards the person he speaks to, but not directly in the eyes. His leg a bad limp. So young yet already so troubled. What is there to life? But his blindness and bad limp did not stop him from throwing his head back, a smile adorning his face to the point it reaches his eyes and the young woman accompanying him doing the same. Watching them, intently looking at each other as they walk down the sidewalk with ease. The two very obviously enthralled within their deep conversation. What is there to life? Watching them she then knew what there is to life.

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DrawingDreamLyrics
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:iconstrangetail:
strangetail Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2013
thanks for the watch!! >v< <33
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:icondrawingdreamlyrics:
DrawingDreamLyrics Featured By Owner Dec 12, 2013
Welcome :squee:
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:iconstrangetail:
strangetail Featured By Owner Sep 7, 2014
and the fave qvq :iconluvluvplz:
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:icondrawingdreamlyrics:
DrawingDreamLyrics Featured By Owner Sep 8, 2014
Haha <3 okay
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(1 Reply)
:iconsabre-toothed-wolf:
sabre-toothed-wolf Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2013
Thanks so much for the fav on "Life" sabre-toothed-wolf.deviantart.… !
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:icondrawingdreamlyrics:
DrawingDreamLyrics Featured By Owner Oct 29, 2013
Your welcome :D
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:iconangel-dust-ryuuki:
Angel-Dust-Ryuuki Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2013  Student General Artist
:iconteen-titans-project:

Welcome to the Teen Titans Project! I am so happy you decided to join us. To better help you navigate your group; here are some links for you:

Rules: ttproject.deviantart.com/journ…

About Us: ttproject.deviantart.com/journ…

Chat Room: chat.deviantart.com/chat/TeenT…

How can I help the project?: fav.me/d6lum9v

If you have any questions or want to help out, just ask. I'll be happy to help.  =)

Sincerely,
Karlee (founder)


Titans together, Titans forever.
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