L, gaara, poems and comic strips.

a sketch of gaara

  

 
a sketch of L

 

a digital drawing of drawing miku

a comic strip about me and my sister

(removed)

and finally....

a poem....

 Dropped into class the very first day,

Dressed in her little funeral dress,
Bangs hid her vacant eyes,
And sleeves clutched in her fists.
"It's that emo girl," they'd think,
"the freak who hardly speaks."
Never would they utter this,
But predictable their thoughts.

Her hands could only hurt,
Her eyes could only glare,
Her heart pained,
It was why she could only wonder.
Distress was what she felt,
Whenever she'd gaze upon her reflection.
Who'd love a beast as hideous as she,
One incapable of affection.

Don't tell her how pretty she is,
How talented and smart.
The rest of the evidence is overwhelming.
She doesn't have time to hear you.
She has a heart of stone, she'd say.
But that stone a diamond, you'd reply.
It still wouldn't be enough,
Her own mocking voice latched by a handcuff.
Hadn't she gotten over it?
What idiots said should mean nothing.
But the scars had fused into her skin,
Melted into her being.

She was the assistant of a knife thrower,
who couldn't aim right.
She was the player in a life-or-death game,
and was about to lose the fight.
She screamed into the night,
Silent screams of agony and anger.
Invisible bullet wounds forever healing,
sewn together each time to be ripped apart.

Hints don't register in her dense companions' minds,
Her cries bounce around,
vibrate off walls,
and fall upon deaf ears.