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Unloved AngelUnloved angel, whom I must say indeed, you look quite ethereal, though you are considered a weed.
A weed with divine power, and the ability to outthink, you can simply make the flowers wilt and shrink.
A weed with truly hypnotic eyes, that glare and pierce the dead who rise.
Creating truths that cannot be lied, how you kill so many who are frightened inside.
Painting stories and crushing all, watch them run, watch them fall.
And here you are, chained to your sins, farewell dear one, rest well within.
Dissect their cancerous minds, warp them and crush them, turn them into lines.
Shred their veins and slice open their eyes, save the blood that runs for further times.
Snip their ligaments, and slaughter their hearts, for their parts are useless and their souls are tart.
The Lost HomeWelcome to the lost home, where all live inside.
Lost and found, some see you now, some try to hide.
On the walls we keep their secrets, bottled up in jars of mystery.
But now you see us, now you don't, it's all simplistic history.
Come into Room Eleven, where we keep the lost and found.
Walls built of children, see them squirm, they had not one chance, not one single turn.
Will you forgive them, give them time?
Or will you make them ours, maybe even mine?
No, you won't, you'll leave them behind, just like you did when they were yours, not mine.
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More