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About Deviant Ganbatte!Male/United States Group :icontogetheraloneotakus: TogetherAloneOtakus
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Do the eyes of a hero have to work?
Do the legs of a hero have to work?
Does the voice of a hero have to work?
Or is she a hero?

When she wakes, what will she see?
If she wakes, will she see? Will she?
If she wakes will she move?
Will she speak like a hero?

While she's asleep does she hear those who wake and weep,
who wish to sleep, can't bear to keep her sleeping?
While she's asleep, does she fear my being near so she can hear me,
hear that she's a hero?

Can she hear me? So she knows she's near me?
"Goodbye"s "Hello"s but can she hear me, "Happy New Year", but can she hear me, crystal clear, me?
Yes, another year she's sleeping here, she's sound and still, another year she's still sleeping.

Does she know I'm scared,
or is she unaware, just laying there waiting to share the dreams she's dreamt so far, so fair,
like Snow White's skin, sleeping, hiding from Snow White's Seven Deadly Sins?
Would she prefer to be the princess who will wake, or does she know, she is a hero?
And when she wakes, we'll celebrate as she returns from war...
and moves... and speaks... and blinks, before I ask,
"Do you feel like a hero?".
Read at Louder Than a Bomb slam poetry competition in Camden, New Jersey 2015
The baby was blue.
The baby was the only thing she had to hold onto
the keystone that she needed when her life collapsed into itself
because her baby daddy left her lonely crying to herself
just when she'd finished getting through herself
because she knew, she could not give birth.
And she can't watch the movie "UP" because it reminds her,
she can't mother, or so said the doctor,
but, she said, she'd find out how to be a mother, somehow, be a mother.
So she adopted.

And although the baby wasn't hers by birth
she'd tried before, embedded in her mind, before the baby,
and she can't admit she calls herself a tomb
and is afraid of her own womb
she hides the history but when she's all alone inside a room
it bubbles up just like a blister
holding back the screams of the baby's foster brothers and sisters
who never made it past the first trimester.

And although the baby wasn't hers by birth
she felt like it was living proof
that she had not committed murder,
what she had considered murder
cause she bonded with the children,
made mistakes cause she would name them
gave them names that she remembers,
but you can't blame her, she expected to be with them.
And the extra space she always had since she was thin,
the extra space she wanted to fill in
was only filled with guilt because she didn't feel fully human,
so she adopted.

Deep down she was afraid to call herself a mother
just in case her curse was never over
but she poured herself into the future
hoping that it would be better
with the baby clutching to her
with the baby that she never
thought she'd have, and it was true her
life was never quite together
but she thought she could get further
with a child she could nurture
but the baby wouldn't let her-
the baby was blue.

And if she recovers...
If she could ever get another
child she could try to mother,
then she might adopt a girl.
Cause' she could never paint the walls
of a baby boy's room that color,
because the baby was blue.
"I accidentally fell in love," I said.
I went on to explain myself.
I told the story
the story that I read to myself at night,
the lullaby,
the song that I sing in the shower,
the tale
of how I dug through the garden of my soul
and unearthed pure diamonds
already cut and ready for me to wear as jewelry-
as evidence that yes,
I really am this happy.

And so went the story of how I "accidentally" fell in love.
And it was a mistake.
I didn't mean for it to happen.
But the best things in life happen by accident.
The Poem about Diamonds
Written at a poetry slam event 3/28/15.
Oh my god Antigone is amazing. The sass levels.

Guard: May I speak? Or shall I just turn and go?
Creon: Do you not know that even now your voice offends?
Guard: Is your smart in the ears or in the soul? 
Creon: And why would you define the seat of my pain?
Guard: The doer vexes your mind, I your ears.
Creon: Ah, you are a born babbler, it's easy to see.
Guard: Maybe but never the doer of this deed.
Creon: More too, the seller of your life for silver.
Guard: Alas, it's truly sad that he who judges should misjudge.


Ismene: But will you slay the betrothed of your own son?
Creon: There are other fields for him to plow.

Ohhhhh snaaap


United States
My favorite color is orange. I love pancakes. It is stupid if anyone eats pancakes without syrup.

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AyeAye12 Featured By Owner Aug 26, 2014  Student Writer
Thanks for the delicious llama!
Cato-chan Featured By Owner Aug 26, 2014
Thanks for the delicious comment~
AyeAye12 Featured By Owner Aug 26, 2014  Student Writer
Cato-chan Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2014
Umm Ian how have you been by the way..?
(1 Reply)
FAlLURE Featured By Owner Aug 25, 2014
Who made your icon omgg
Cato-chan Featured By Owner Aug 25, 2014
I did!
FAlLURE Featured By Owner Aug 25, 2014
ee, it's adorable :la:
Cato-chan Featured By Owner Aug 25, 2014
Really? :iconinamifaceplz:
(1 Reply)
smalltownsillygal Featured By Owner Oct 20, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
thank you very much for the :+fav: and your lovely comment on my work! :hug: :happybounce: :heart:
Cato-chan Featured By Owner Oct 22, 2013
No problem lol. I don't know if you've been feeling unappreciated, but you're certainly talented.
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