50% off for a limited time!

Get Core

Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

Get Help and Send Feedback

literature

Temporary Defeat

Deviation Actions

GhostOfTheEmptyGrave

Published: May 4, 2014

770 Views

Literature Text

No!
How did this happen?
I lost everything
All my power...
All my might...
Useless...
I'm beaten...
Damn you!

But I will rise again
And I'll return
Even stronger than I am now
You can be sure of it
And then
Victory shall be mine!

More by GhostOfTheEmptyGrave

Literature

someone's world

To be someone's world... A beautiful yet scary concept One I have yet to experience

Recommended Literature

Literature

Languidly Losing Life

Languidly Losing Life constant consciousness creates compositions. blended by burning bacterium; deteriorating domiciliation. downgrading dewdrops of once owned objects, thought to tell tales about all actual activity.

Literature

The Anger of the Innocent

I am your tomorrows... And I am your today I am the shadows you live in, Yes, I am all your shame I am the future that beckons, And then, is stolen away I am everything in your life, That you could never change (Every forbidden kiss, Felt upon the lips of the innocent...) I am the things that you thought you had, All those feelings that were oh, so bad, The times you felt happy, but were still so sad, All the evil that you did, that you made you so glad... I know why you felt...that way... I understand all...of the pain... I am your forever, that never seems so near I am all the sorrow, that always seems so clear I am all the passion, wh

Literature

Fighting through Depression

Tears rolling down, in the rain I stand. Trying to smile, but no where to be found. I wish my life would end, but I am only going deeper. How did it all end this way? What have I done? I cry myself to sleep, wishing this pain would disappear. One drop of blood, drips down the sensitive skin of mine. One drop of tear, rolling down my burning face. All these flashbacks, flood deeper in my mind. The name calls, that were given. The abuse, that never ended. Was everything all my fault? What have I done wrong? One tear, in the rain that pours. The smile I fake, wishing I would die today. The weight I lose, in this moment of my life. How I wish

Suggested Collections

perfect poetry

Literature

Ashes on a Grave

Hand rolled cigarettes, yellowed fingertips liver overworked, waiting outside in the cold sunshine reception desk, awaiting request, clipboard and swinging hips "This is your mother?" Yeah, that's mine nurses with red ruby lips, stomp embers out, it'll all be fine swallow the cup of bitter pills, fifty second visit of 1959 Weekly, my mother gets to see me ever since I became a made man I made time dementia makes her lose track, she's old and weakly she doesn't remember her own five sons, in her mind I never did a crime I'm paying all her bills, but family doesn't come freely she thinks I'm my father, a deadbeat I never knew, she's staying here on my dime! A man who failed to raise me, that's what I get, every tender moment ends with her asking for her husband throwing the knife into my heart like spit I kill myself to drive out here, to channel the dead go back and channel violence onto any poor mook's head break bones, break safes, break bottles and then break bread and I mean

Literature

serpiente

gay love gay love gay love. what the fuck is gay love& how???is it a thing that this is?exploratory of this changelingofphase is tough. i got a (hu)man who loves my stubble &&i love that they love my stubble. i love that they love my stubble. i love that they snake around my shoulders&kiss my cheek awkwardly because they're too short to kiss me when we're standing.they gotta stand on their toes for that. i love that they nuzzle their face in my neck &my cheek. that they sigh when it's quiet. when they slither their fingers into mine, nudging the jet tungsten ring that rests upon my middle so lightly. slightly inundated mos

Literature

Slipping

[I’m] g back n i p p i l f s a l l i n g

Poetry

Literature

an atheist's prayer

dear god, i planted no tulips in autumn and no tulips came in spring. how silly of me, then to mourn the empty garden, to long for fields of amsterdam, to kneel at night in cold dirt, hands folded. i’ve learned there is a certain ache in lacking a thing never had, that small itch whose relief is two seasons past – so god, if you can hear me, know that i am homesick for amsterdam, whose name, like yours, i know but whose flowers i cannot see.

Literature

For My People

As far as I can recall: I did not ask to be birthed Into a cycle of stagnation. I did not ask to be told, That my dreams are achievable; Only to see them limited by the scope of reality. I did not ask for a failing system, Passed unto me by half-dead corpses wearing suits. Nodding eagerly at one another, As they wait for an inevitable death. This I did not ask for, And I am certain that most of you did not either. But it is for that reason, And for that reason alone, I say: That it is up to us, We siblings bound by the chains of our forefathers, To create a system that is better, Than the bitter shackles of the past. Justice is what I lo

WordOfChen on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/wordofchen/art/I-Haven-t-Failed-Yet-549921214WordOfChen

Writing and Poetry

Literature

Slate Blue

Slate blue clouds cloak the dawn, crepuscular rays creeping round the blockade to wake songbirds and squirrels. The mill house wheel clacks and tumbles; yeast rises like a whisper. Only the blueberry thicket knows that the taste of sunlight keeps the bread warm.

Literature

but where is the blue

You know how to be just skin. You know how to remove every molecule of air. Every molecule of the unknown. You can nail yourself to the juniper trees. You think you will. Stab through every callus with peels of that ragged bark. Your back to the gnarls. They catch fire so easily, you know.

Literature

Gnossienne

You never told me that you play the bass. Some stories I hear over and over again - Xerox computers, meeting well-known authors - but others I learn haphazardly, stumbling into tidbits and details like a newborn fawn - a junior year spent living on pancakes; a car accident; animating projects in the early days of Flash. You never told me you play bass, piano, guitar. And I worry - what other talents and footnotes are buried too far in the past to light up on my radar? What will I learn about you only after it's too late?

Featured in Groups

Written for the contest held by

under the theme "Contrasting poetry".

Comments35

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

ariya-sacca

Jan 9, 2019

I share the sentiment

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