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Easily ForgottenMy eyes are always wet with tears,
My hands are always smeared with blood,
My head is always bowed to hide,
And my feet are always poised to run.
My clothes reflect my darkened thoughts,
My smile serves as my mind's mask,
The walls make me believe I'm caught,
And as long as I smile, no one asks.
My efforts never mean a thing,
I'm told I'm useless, after all;
Like the bird that sports a broken wing,
It seems I'm always doomed to fall.
All you others, rest assured,
That you'll live on in memories;
Even if I was the loudest to go,
No one would remember me.
Females give your thoughts plsShe bent over her pack, swords sheathed now, and checked herself ready to return to the campsite. She had used most of her energy in the workout and, she smiled bitterly when her mind materialized the calculation, would be of little use if they were to be attacked now.
Kendra insisted to herself that it didnt matter, because she needed to wear herself out just to keep from bashing in the heads of her four human male friends. She had lost it and practically dragged the awestruck boys out to explore and camp in the mountains after she had caught them attempting to flirt with elf girls over three times their age. They were so mesmerized by the surrounding of perfect forms and beautiful faces that they seemed to lose all track of where they actually stood. She bit back sigh after angry word and thanked the gods that girls werent so stupid when they saw an attractive man.
She had reminded them, as gently as she could manage, where they were and who those girls really were and sa
Human Dragons --Hunter
The people of the East Village had begun to think they were cursed. Around two weeks before, a young man with an unusual and frightening air calling himself the Son of Dragons had entered the town. He left within the day, yet the whispered fear remained. The town was shaken badly, and the oldest of the residents had proclaimed the boy a devil. Calm had slowly crept back among the village, when another stranger had appeared.
His face was grim-set, determined and scowling, and laced with fine silver chains and piercing rings. He wore black and the darkest shades of blue, clothes matching the color of his long and wild hair. His eyes were shadows shifting in the depths of the ocean. Along the bottom of his neck ran markings similar to the other; long, gracefully curving lines and symbols that shimmered faintly as though they had their own life.
This man didnt wander the city openly as had the other. He kept to edges and shadows, trying without success to draw as little a
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More