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About Digital Art / Hobbyist RyAnn19/Female/United States Groups :iconart-in-hearts: Art-in-Hearts
 
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To this Day by Luckynight48
To this Day
A poem by Shan Koyczan. I like this one the most.  
When I was a kid
I used to think that pork chops and karate chops
Were the same thing

I thought they were both pork chops
And because my grandmother thought it was cute
And because they were my favourite

She let me keep doing it

Not really a big deal

One day
Before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees
I fell out of a tree
And bruised the right side of my body


I didn’t want to tell my grandmother about it
Because I was afraid I’d get in trouble
For playing somewhere that I shouldn’t have been


A few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise
And I got sent to the principal’s office

From there I was sent to another small room
With a really nice lady
Who asked me all kinds of questions
About my life at home


I saw no reason to lie
As far as I was concerned
Life was pretty good

I told her, “Whenever I’m sad
My grandmother gives me karate chops”


This led to a full scale investigation
And I was removed from the house for three days

Until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises

News of this silly little story quickly spread through the school
And I earned my first nickname


Pork Chop

To this day
I hate pork chops


I’m not the only kid
Who grew up this way
Surrounded by people who used to say
That rhyme about sticks and stones

As if broken bones
Hurt more than the names we got called
And we got called them all

So we grew up believing no one
Would ever fall in love with us
That we’d be lonely forever
That we’d never meet someone
To make us feel like the sun

Was something they built for us
In their tool shed

So broken heart strings bled the blues
As we tried to empty ourselves
So we would feel nothing

Don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone
That an ingrown life
Is something surgeons can cut away
That there’s no way for it to metastasize


It does

She was eight years old
Our first day of grade three
When she got called ugly

We both got moved to the back of the class
So we would stop get bombarded by spit balls

But the school halls were a battleground
Where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day
We used to stay inside for recess
Because outside was worse

Outside we’d have to rehearse running away
Or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there
In grade five they taped a sign to her desk
That read beware of dog


To this day
Despite a loving husband
She doesn’t think she’s beautiful

Because of a birthmark
That takes up a little less than half of her face

Kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer
That someone tried to erase
But couldn’t quite get the job done

And they’ll never understand
That she’s raising two kids
Whose definition of beauty
Begins with the word mom
Because they see her heart
Before they see her skin
Because she’s only ever always been amazing


He
Was a broken branch
Grafted onto a different family tree
Adopted
Not because his parents opted for a different destiny
He was three when he became a mixed drink
Of one part left alone
And two parts tragedy
Started therapy in 8th grade

Had a personality made up of tests and pills
Lived like the uphills were mountains
And the downhills were cliffs

Four fifths suicidal
A tidal wave of anti depressants
And an adolescence of being called popper

One part because of the pills
Ninety nine parts because of the cruelty
He tried to kill himself in grade ten

When a kid who could still go home to mom and dad
Had the audacity to tell him “get over it”
 as if depression
Is something that can be remedied
By any of the contents found in a first aid kit


To this day
He is a stick of TNT lit from both ends
Could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends
In the moments before it’s about to fall

And despite an army of friends
Who all call him an inspiration

He remains a conversation piece between people
Who can’t understand
Sometimes becoming drug free
Has less to do with addiction
And more to do with sanity


We weren’t the only kids who grew up this way
To this day
Kids are still being called names

The classics were
Hey stupid
Hey spaz

Seems like each school has an arsenal of names
Getting updated every year

And if a kid breaks in a school
And no one around chooses to hear
Do they make a sound?

Are they just the background noise
Of a soundtrack stuck on repeat
When people say things like

Kids can be cruel?
Every school was a big top circus tent
And the pecking order went
From acrobats to lion tamers
From clowns to carnies

All of these were miles ahead of who we were
We were freaks
Lobster claw boys and bearded ladies

Oddities
Juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire spin the bottle
Trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal
But at night
While the others slept
We kept walking the tightrope
It was practice

And yes
Some of us fell


But I want to tell them
That all of this shit
Is just debris
Leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought
We used to be

And if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself
Get a better mirror
Look a little closer
Stare a little longer

Because there’s something inside you
That made you keep trying

Despite everyone who told you to quit
You built a cast around your broken heart
And signed it yourself
You signed it
“They were wrong”

Because maybe you didn’t belong to a group or a clique
Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything

Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth
To show and tell but never told

Because how can you hold your ground
If everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it

You have to believe that they were wrong

They have to be wrong

Why else would we still be here?
We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog
Because we see ourselves in them
We stem from a root planted in the belief
That we are not what we were called

We are not abandoned cars stalled out and
Sitting empty on a highway
And if in some way we are
Don’t worry
We only got out to walk and get gas

We are graduating members from the class of Fuck Off We Made It
Not the faded echoes of voices crying out
Names will never hurt me


Of course
They did


But our lives will only ever always
Continue to be
A balancing act

That has less to do with pain
And more to do with beauty
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Trolls by Luckynight48
Trolls
A poem "Troll" by Shane Koyczan 
Once upon a time,
You and all your kind lived underneath bridges,
Had ridges for ribs that dropped off into empty chests as if your Hearts were all stolen treasures,
As if an excavation crew were hired to dig up and remove the part Of you that let you feel.
And while the world above you invented the wheel, you stayed put,
Knowing it would one day need to roll over top of you to get to Where it's going.

You had an endlessly flowing supply line of food.
You began to brood over humanity and made meals of our hope,
As if crushing our spirits would make your mirrors cast better Reflections than the ones they gave,
As if the only way you could save yourselves was to make the world Ugly so no one would notice you hiding in it.
You learned to knit pain into a kind of camouflage,
Treated hope like a mirage that you could use to lure in your next meal.
You lived off of our fears, as if you could taste what we feel.
And every night, as the moon read bedtime stories to sunlight.
You took darkness as an invite to head out into the world,
You curled your hands into wrecking balls, your breath became Squalls, you made rocks rumble, you made land shiver
You made boys and girls pray that someone would deliver them From you
We told them you aren't real.
Then one day, the world changed, but you all stayed the same.
Just migrated from living underneath bridges to living underneath Information super-highways.
Days and nights became meaningless, each already deepened Chest became an abyss that no one would ever find the bottom of.
Concepts like love fell into your gravity, we turned ourselves into Live preservers hoping to save as many as we could,
But the fathers who stood guarding closet doors and the mothers Who secured the floors underneath beds,
All shook their heads not knowing how to deal with you.
You, who crept into our lives with tongues like knives stabbing your Words into our skin.
You began to begin uploading yourselves into our homes you had Computer screens for eyes, and software for bones.
You turned your hate into stones and hurled them at beauty,
As if you couldn't bear to see anything other than ugly, anything Different.
You had fingernails like flint, and scraped them along decency hoping we would be the ones to all catch fire.

You all had smiles like one-way barbed wire not meant to keep us Out,
Meant to keep us in

Voice like a firing pin, you spoke in explosions
It isn't cute. It isn't funny.
You've talked strangers into death, and laughed.
And as each family learns to graft skin over the wounds you gave them, you hem yourselves into the scar.
You have coaxed the sober back into bars,
Handed out cigars at memorials,
Offered nooses, cliffs, and pills to those who unfortunately found You before they found help
.
You have praised suffering,
Waltzed in between tragedies,
Gracefully dipping misery as if we would somehow be impressed With the dexterity of your animosity.
You have cheered on rape, dashed through police tape as if it were The finish line in a race of who can be awful first.
Even now,
You somehow see this as an invitation to turn your keyboards into Catapults,
Wondering which of you can be the first to hate this best.
Your loathing, already dressed in riot gear,
Ready to incite rage,
As if each message board is a stage,
Where you recite hostility,
Turning freedom of speech into freedom of cruelty.
We are stuck with you, the same way you are stuck with you.
Your mind is glue, and it keeps malice fastened there like cheap Wallpaper.
We were once upon a time told that none of you exist, we Dismissed you as make believe or myth.
Now armed only with resolve, we can no longer afford to tell Ourselves that you aren't real.
We will not let you make your dinners out of the things we feel.
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Magicain assistant by Luckynight48
Magicain assistant
Long time for me since I drew this little guy. .3.
But anyways, I wanted to do some head cannon stuff with him.
So I gave him a different design ( not sure if I'll keep the colors thou. I'll see if you guys like it. ) But I love his wig! xD

Long story short for my head cannon, he's the magician's assistant. He's not very good thou. >3<
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Hey guys!
I got onto Picarto.tv for hopeful better live streaming!
Hey guys!
I got onto Picarto.tv for hopeful better live streaming!

deviantID

Luckynight48
RyAnn
Artist | Hobbyist | Digital Art
United States
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Hello and welcome to my world of randomness! :D
Here I post fanart,cats,Adoptables,robots, and odd creators. I love cartoons, video games,drawing, and being crazy. :3
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:iconspace-justice:
Space-Justice Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Student Digital Artist
//Heya
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:iconluckynight48:
Luckynight48 Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Hobbyist Digital Artist
What's up~
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:iconspace-justice:
Space-Justice Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Student Digital Artist
//Good u
Reply
:iconluckynight48:
Luckynight48 Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Hobbyist Digital Artist
good~
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(1 Reply)
:iconemikomarizakuria:
EmikoMariZakuria Featured By Owner 6 days ago  New Deviant Student General Artist
I hav a question. I want to ask how you put comment on deviantions becuse i dont no how.
Reply
:iconluckynight48:
Luckynight48 Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Digital Artist
What?
Odd question.....you just go on one of their pictures and write on the white box on the bottom.
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:iconemikomarizakuria:
EmikoMariZakuria Featured By Owner 6 days ago  New Deviant Student General Artist
wait, that means im writing a comment for one of their pictures. Im doing an ask and 2 people gave me asks. Im already making the pics but dont know how to put their asks from the comments onto the deviant.
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:iconluckynight48:
Luckynight48 Featured By Owner 6 days ago  Hobbyist Digital Artist
O do you mean taking screen shots of the ask!
I'm sorry I must of miss read you comment. 
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(1 Reply)
:iconmusicheavens:
MusicHeavens Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2015  New Deviant Student Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fav! I really appreciate it!!!! :3
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:iconluckynight48:
Luckynight48 Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Awww no prob~!
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