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More from ~emberkat123

NightmaresSilent steps across the carpet,
That is how it starts-
Slow, but steady, aware.
Aware of what lurks ahead,
Known, but unavoidable.

Yes, unavoidable, like breathing.
The mattress squeaks
As stress overcomes its insides,
Loud and short, you steady yourself
On the old springs and torn fabric.
Soon sleep nags your head
And you succumb to exhaustion.
Inevitably you drift to sleep,
And so begins the cycle.

You feel it first, hairs
Raised on your back and neck.
Someone- or something- is there.
Your nerves tense and you
Bolt to a sitting position.
Shadows dance in your eyes,
But you are accustomed
To the sensation, the fear.

In the dim light, a

Mosquito BiteMosquito Bite

Blood slowly trickles from the wound in my wrist.
It stings as i continue to slide my thumb-nail across the vein.
I feel the pain and start to cry; tears flow down my cheeks
Like raindrops falling from deep grey storm clouds.
I taste the salty water on my lips as i scratch.
The cut gets bigger. Hurts more.
I stop itching and feel the pain more clearly now.
A white-hot knife seemingly slides across my wrist.
Suddenly I hear the laughter of small children.
I close my eyes and see a small family.
There are two kids, jumping on their father.
He is tall and has beautiful smiling eyes.
The children tackle him to the groun

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Submitted: October 19, 2012
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Date Taken:Oct 19, 2012, 4:25:27 PM
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Dark Tearsby ~emberkat123

Community Projects / Awareness / 2012 / Spirit Day

I see her walk through the hallway
On her way to some class
Books held to her hip
As if she were holding a child.
No one else pays attention
To her silent footfalls
On the cold linoleum.
She is a specter
Slipping from room to room
Where she quietly raises
Her shivering hands.
What small hands.
So breakable, fragile.
Not even the teacher sees,
But I do.
Her hand glides slowly to her desk
And she slowly turns.
Her cool gaze settles on me.
I look away, fearful to be seen by her.
Or am I afraid someone else will see me?
Am I frightened by the prospect
Of being grouped with her?
Why?
The class ends, and the bell rings.
The girl remains seated, defeated.
Trembling, she stands up
And calls my name.
I stop, but don't turn around.
Rumors had been going around
About her.
About how she loved me,
How she would stare at me
During class and in the hallway.
She followed me, I knew.
I was all she had left,
Her old friend who didn't see
The wrong in her feelings.
The only one who didn't care
If she liked girls or boys.
Until now.
I didn't look at her now
As she quivered behind me.
She was clearly shaking
For I could hear the quivering of her fingers
As they hit the table beside her.
I didn't want to look,
But I couldn't stop myself.
My eyes rested on hers
And I knew what she would say.
I understood her clearly.
She knew I did.
Her mouth opened
An the words poured out
Like water from from the sink.
Purple tears dripped from her eyes.
"The rumors weren't true."

~paulypants Oct 22, 2012

This piece would be perfect for a project we are developing -- an online gallery for artists who have been bullied or who explore the theme of bullying in their work. It's called the You Will Rise Project. Check it out here: [link] and read the "Submit Work" section for details about sharing your work on our site. Thanks!

~emberkat123 Oct 23, 2012

I have gone to your website and looked around a bit. I love what you are doing, but I haven't had very much experience with bullying. The poem I wrote didn't apply to me, I came up with it on the fly, if you still want me to submit paintings/sketches on the website, I would truly be honored to do so