‘Twas the night before Christmas on DeviantArt,
Not a paintbrush was stirring, and creators took heart.
The artists scrolled through Daily Deviations with care
Knowing kindred warm-fuzzies soon would be there.
Deviants were all swiping, all snug on their phones
While visions of inspiration across all time zones
Were zapped to their smart device, quick as can be,
At the tap of a button in a +Fav’ing spree!
When across the Interwebs there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to the Comments to see what was the matter,
“I’m bored,” the Journal wrote, “I’m on a long trip, too.
I don’t have my laptop, an
Mystery to you
Why looms this mood
So deep but misheard
Words unknown
Tossed, disowned
"Another day" the heart burned.
Heart impaired
Only to be repaired
With time.
Grieving inside
Escaped by tears
Of one's cry.
It'll soon come to pass
Pain never lasts
What's happened
Prepared this one
For the greater mass
I'm a mess.
Full of stress.
I must confess.
That I'm depressed.
I'm not blessed.
Love gone West.
Left no address.
I'm still depressed.
There is no rest.
For me, a mess.
A mess thats pressed.
Still fucking depressed.
I'm a mess.
If I'd have guessed.
I would have left.
Before arrest.
Who are you, children of error,
To profess being right,
When you were born to be wrong?
To search for the light,
To illuminate your way,
Yet I shone the light,
And mesmerized you were by the shadows it cast.
You searched for Me,
High and low, far and wide,
From whence the winds blew,
But never where I was found.
You gaze into future destinations,
Or long for things long past,
But never did you look to where you are.
An untended fire burns low,
Embers to become from neglect,
So to fan the flames is yours,
Yours and yours alone.
Alfred couldn't sleep. He lay in his bed and looked at the ceiling as he tried to ignore the darkness around him. The black nothingness felt heavy, as though it were pushing down on him and constricting him. His mind started to play tricks on him. Every creak sounded ten times louder. He whimpered a little and slowly rolled on to his side.
The moonlight slipped through the tiny gap between the curtains, casting a silver line across the middle of the room. Alfred wished he could gather the courage to get out of bed to open the curtains. At least the moon would light up the room a little. That way he would feel a little better. He hated the da