ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
This is the story of a 6 year old-youth named Bailey.
---
"She's up there, somewhere very high up there."
Bailey made a pair of wings last night; she took two branches from the dead tree in her abandoned apartment's courtyard, and some feathers she plucked from the crow carcass that fell from her 11th story kitchen window a week ago, and glued them both together. She also kept the crow too, she named him 'Ricochet'. That bird is her one-and-only
friend.
---
"She's looking down on you from above, and she's proud of what you've become."
She made the wings to fly to her mother's home in the clouds. Why? Well, her father, the dirty manner-less drunk, died yesterday, from alcohol poisoning. But don't tell anyone. It is a secret. She doesn't want anyone to know because she knows 'they' will take him, her last caretaker, away- like they did her mother. Bailey only learned one thing from her father though, aside from how alcohol corrupts the liver, that he told her the truth. That her mother was in a better place now, he said that she's 'living in the clouds'. Watching down on us. Now Bailey knows she can fly to her Mother's home and say hello, because she just wants her mother to be
happy.
---
"Rewind back to your memories of her, she'd like that."
Bailey took the wings to the apartment rooftop and taped them to the dress she wanted to wear to see her mother, whom she'd be seeing for the first time since last year. It was her mother's favorite dress she wore, the pink one with the short tutu at the waist, and the bedazzled text at her back that read 'Mommies little princess'- it's the dress she made for her the day before she 'went away'.
She wants her mom to smile when they see each-other again. It would be the second time (that she remembers) that her mom would smile, the other time would be in the photo of her in the long white dress with her father in the black suit.
Bailey also brought the bedazzle decorated fanny pack her mom made for her, too- Ricochet is in there and she really wants her mom to meet her first friend.
'See you soon mommy," she grinned, her lips vibrating. She danced her way to the end of the roof top, and
jumped.
---
"She's up there, somewhere very high up there."
Bailey made a pair of wings last night; she took two branches from the dead tree in her abandoned apartment's courtyard, and some feathers she plucked from the crow carcass that fell from her 11th story kitchen window a week ago, and glued them both together. She also kept the crow too, she named him 'Ricochet'. That bird is her one-and-only
friend.
---
"She's looking down on you from above, and she's proud of what you've become."
She made the wings to fly to her mother's home in the clouds. Why? Well, her father, the dirty manner-less drunk, died yesterday, from alcohol poisoning. But don't tell anyone. It is a secret. She doesn't want anyone to know because she knows 'they' will take him, her last caretaker, away- like they did her mother. Bailey only learned one thing from her father though, aside from how alcohol corrupts the liver, that he told her the truth. That her mother was in a better place now, he said that she's 'living in the clouds'. Watching down on us. Now Bailey knows she can fly to her Mother's home and say hello, because she just wants her mother to be
happy.
---
"Rewind back to your memories of her, she'd like that."
Bailey took the wings to the apartment rooftop and taped them to the dress she wanted to wear to see her mother, whom she'd be seeing for the first time since last year. It was her mother's favorite dress she wore, the pink one with the short tutu at the waist, and the bedazzled text at her back that read 'Mommies little princess'- it's the dress she made for her the day before she 'went away'.
She wants her mom to smile when they see each-other again. It would be the second time (that she remembers) that her mom would smile, the other time would be in the photo of her in the long white dress with her father in the black suit.
Bailey also brought the bedazzle decorated fanny pack her mom made for her, too- Ricochet is in there and she really wants her mom to meet her first friend.
'See you soon mommy," she grinned, her lips vibrating. She danced her way to the end of the roof top, and
jumped.
Literature
blowing bubbles.
last night we
watched the clouds
fall.
and you said:
you are beautiful.
and i am afraid
that i might one day
actually believe you
and
sometimes i feel like
i'm just this big bundle
of problems and i have
been searching and
i can't find the answers.
you told me that the answers
are in blowing bubbles and
tying shoe laces and chasing
dreams, but honestly i just
don't
understand. i have tried
to chase my dreams but
they only run away.
.
you told me that you can't
stand how i sound when i
give up and the hope
is knocked out of me and
you can't stand me when
i am busy counting
the empty spaces in the
walls and
Literature
notes
c.
i miss how we used
to pass notes in science
class and compare infinite
scars from an excruciating
adolescence. you always
said you were ugly, but
i always thought you were
beautiful like a solitary crow
in a winter tree, perceiving
the world for what it is.
they called you "goth" and
a "satan worshipper",
but you were always so
much more.
[even though you've
moved on, i've never
gotten over the sunlight
on your porcelain skin
and the potent sadness
in your eyes. i never
really knew what was on
your mind.]
r.
we were best friends
without any cares, walking
along the river and watching
the transients set u
Literature
He was.
The skin between your fingers is dark
And calloused from carelessly holding
those wild cigarettes, and my eyes keep
straying to the small round burns that
form a constellation on your left arm.
"Sometimes I hate myself," you shrug,
like its something that anyone would
do to themselves.
You taught me to strum out chords on my
dad's old guitar with your tough fingers
that always knew what to do. I taught
you the trick to folding paper stars, the
art in taking something flat, something
meaningless, and turning it into something
beautiful and real. But your strong, skilled
fingers made a mess of the delicate paper
and soon your
Suggested Collections
...
© 2009 - 2024 GrimmestFangs
Comments201
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Heartbreaking. Wonderful imagery - loved it.