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Item #: P3T (“Patches”)
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures:
Subject needs to be kept in a four by five meter room with jean fabric on all walls; floors are carpet. It can have any type of lighting or any temperature.
Subject request small couch made of various materials. Granted.
Subject request to see SCP-D13 once a week. Granted.
Subject resembles a small boy with snow white hair and looks like it has stitches on its mouth. SCP-P3T is 1.06 m. tall and 22.6 kg. Its eye color is unknown as it will not allow scientists to look at its eyes. It wears an orange jacket with one sleeve shorter than the other. It has multiple patches fabric over its body to replace skin. Wears grey blind fold whenever scientist are in the containment room, must knock on door before entering. It wears pink socks; don’t remove under any circumstances. It has no feet, socks filled with cotton.
Body parts are very sensitive, and sometimes fall off. Subject can
Rage In The LakeJust watching you dwellers walk around
But can’t you sea that I’m stuck in this lake
I’m stuck because I can’t breathe up there
No one pays attention to me because I’m quiet
You people make my fins flare up in anger
With your role-playing and filling up your quadrants
But there is nobody in here
In my little lonely lake
I try to talk to you all but you people push me aside
I’m just a stupid lake dweller and I don’t know anyfin
Yeah I know I can be a little slow
I sometimes to forget to breathe
But that doesn't give you the reason to look down at me
I know I’m a little odd but I’m higher than you all expect one
I’m king of the lakes so don’t think I go easy on you
You are not aware of my rage that is build up in this lake
Man in woman's shoesWhen she looks in the mirror she sees a man.
His head held up high and he has whatever he dared to dream.
But when she looks down she sees a woman.
Whose head is tilted and barely even there.
She urges to be this man she sees.
But what will her family think?
What will her boyfriend think?
Will she have to find a new family, a new loved one?
A man walking in woman's shoes
That's what she feels.
A man that has to wear woman clothing.
A man that bleeds once a week each month.
A man that has been knocked down because he’s the opposite gender.
Where people think he can’t survive on his own because breast lay upon his chest.
Where wearing makeup is the only thing that can make him pretty or beautiful.
All he wants is to live in world where he can actually be a man and not a woman.
That’s all she, no he, wants.
A world that can love him for him.
Not where he gets knocked down and beaten for wanting to change.
Thurkear miirikKwi nhee vrak hush
Sia nhee dretri
Ssifisv dout saurivic vur wurunwa di aurix
Ssifisv dout fothisev acht wer svant
Si geou ssejinw wer l'graic mrith sia nhee miirik
Hush sia danthe thric rigluin ekess l'gra
Dask geou troth jacioniv vrak
Jaka ssifisv vur wurunwa di aurix
Si geou clax wer whedabra vur fold
Xurwk mitne sari coi
Vi isk ihk wux
Vi regipre mel'thurkear
Ssifisv sia moxt vrak
Vi z'ar treskri itheikic persvek wer z'ar mitne
Nhee vrak ssifisv
Mobi thric dril ekess resist
Dask nishka troth persvek wer thurkear
Wurunwa di aurix nhee vrak
Ditch DemonsShe tried to climb out but nothing work
Her nails digging into the dirt walls
Her face beaten up
Blood slowly dripping from her mouth
All she wanted was to be happy
But she was thrown in the ditch
Beaten and crushed
Only to be left with her monsters
Spitting out words and curses
Them repeating negativity that was coming
Digging their nails into her back
Sorrow and agony being injected into her veins
No matter how much she screamed
No one came to save her
Just left her there
Hurt and bleeding
The ThirdsWe didn't mean too, it just happened
I just wanted to help
I wanted to be left alone
I just wanted to kill
But we couldn't decide which side we'd be on
We spilt ourselves into three
But we couldn't be our own
All I wanted to was help but it fell apart
I just wanted to hold you and understand
But two-thirds of me didn't care
I was afraid that you would leave me for her
She hurt you but you kept talking about her
A third of me cares
A third of me doesn't give a shit
And the other hates you
I just wanted to be left alone
But I was given this stupid job
How can I keep this thing equal?
When I just panic and run around
I didn't want to talk people but they pester me
I hide away from all the things I don't like
Hide from the world for it can kill me
I can't take much more so I'll just disappear
I hate you all
I want you all dead expect one
You people are so imperfect
I can't trust you for I know you'll kill me
You all are out to get me
So I'll get to you first
No one can stop me expect this
What would be the pointWhat would be the point?
Your heart can't stop bleeding
Then why try to sow it up
What would be the point?
If you couldn't breathe
Then why try to take a deep breathe
What would be the point?
If your mind was broken in pieces
Then why try to solve it and put it back together
What would be the point?
If you couldn't feel and understand
Then why try to have sympathy
What would be the point?
If you were hurt and bruised
Then why try getting up and only to fail
What would be the point...?
Fake a Smile for Today and ForeverShe was okay for the first days
Then she slightly fell across the floor
Skidding across bleeding a bit
She got up and proceeded to only fall
Placing a smile on her face she went on her day
But when the night comes she's a totally wreck
Her wounds open and cause her to cry
No butterflies to comfort her to bed
No sweet words to encourage her to sleep well
She becomes a prisoner of her mind
Her beautiful world now destroyed
Her emotions cutting her throat
But in the morning she's fine
People can't tell that this happening
And she can't explain if she tried
Promises to her are breaking
Her heart is breaking
But she just smiles and goes on with her day
Annoying Little HoarderMy sweet little bird sings to me
I love to hear my bird sing
You wish you had a bird like mine so I shared
But little did I know that you were a hoarder
At first I didn't mind you listening to my birds songs
Then I felt like my bird no longer loved me
But now I feel pure anger and annoyance
Whenever I try to take my bird back you pull its wings
Causing my beautiful bird is not able to fly back
Sometimes my bird calls to me
But you silence it and push me away
It my bird not yours
Have you not forgotten who let you borrow it?
Has anybody not taught about give it back of what you borrowed?
Are you so blind that cannot see my anger arising?
And how dare you not speak to me or thank me!
I could easily take my bird back and lock it away
But I will not for I want my bird to be free
But seriously you need to give me back my bird
Or find your own
.just try not to
that memory, that one
wolf that calls
for the rest
of the pack;
you'll spend all
with them inside
gossamer loveyou will love a woman
who uses the word
too often. she will
diagnose dead artists' descents
into madness and laugh
too loudly at jokes
no one understands.
she will braid crowns of
flowers, she will write poems
in constellations, she will
try to walk like a dancer so
no one can hear her
leave. she will be
an ice sculpture, and when
she cries, you'll convince yourself
she's melting, she loves you, you've
changed her, you've
changed; she will wear you
like a comma, like
an incomplete thought,
in her story, and
she will leave you wondering
crooked kissesAn old man sits at a bus stop,
his ragged clothes soaked
through to his creaky bones.
He grips his beggars cup
tightly, but instead of coins it
overflows with rain water.
Passersby pass by without
giving a second glance, brief
cases clenched in swinging
hands, Bluetooth plugged into
their ears. A little girl dressed
in pink polka dots prances
to his side. Her mouth moves
quickly and his takes time to
form words. She giggles,
drops coins into his cup, and
gives him a kiss on the cheek.
He laughs a crooked grin.
CatatoniaShe scrawls life line tallies on her wrists in scars
to mark each year passed
and haunts bars looking for the love of strangers.
she finds malt whiskey and vermouth; strange mouths to kiss
she tips them back the way a lover might tip her chinny chin
She whispers slurs and looks into the abyss of gin.
He inhales death with the smoky kisses of cigarettes
injects life paraphrasing echoes of love with hypodermics to keep
the hypothermia of loneliness back
but it creeps and creeps
a slow paralysis
under the windowsill, rain falling bleak on the pane to drip
into her veins
soft dark over the threshold of the doorway to her soul
writing ink into her shadow, there -
melting behind the lidded stupor stare of dreamless minds
it stirs and wakes,
invisible monsters sleeping in her chest
they bare their teeth and bleed
pain naked in the light of morning
ugly and beautiful in the honesty of strangers unable to turn
from a car crash in the dusk.
walking in darkness
searching for touch.
To the one I forget to loveSunshine girl,
your feet are itchy for the miles
between your sighs
and hunger scratches
at your throat
but you have a smile
that swallows oceans
and your heart
into the Marinia Trench.
this heaviness in you
is a dandelion
coming home to rest
Cigarrete Smokesometimes you want to
kill the world inside you,
but you can't
because you're too worried
because you can't see the consequences
because you don't like modifications
because you can't make up
well you're excused,
excused from giving a damn,
for the cigarette lighter
(I'm too tired to stomp out the ashes
and blow the smoke away).
A Daughter Now BegottenIf reason could challenge the knowledge of infinity,
the blindness of justice;
should we not call ourselves Gods...
And Gods are we not, for if justice were truly blind,
it would hold the same fate for rich and poor alike...
Under the celestial heaven that shines above,
the beggar's crying face and the rich man's arrogant gaze...
So of The Creation we are, living in throngs of solitudes....
Each solitude made torturous by the lust for more money,
yet eased by the kindness of strangers and the love of God...
Which power of change is made,
unto glory from a prisoner down trod,
to a man of faith, who helped a dying woman in need till loving eclipse.
A daughter now begotten, of starry eyes and golden sun ray locks...
Cherished by God and adored by both parents,
though mother soon to be with the Creator Almighty,
this daughter grows up knowing the brittleness of mortality...
...As her lips of red rose blossoms,
her heart aches as the mourning moon that hides behind the bosom of clouds...
Helping handsDrowning the fears
Drowning the yells
Drowning the sorrow
Drowning the drama
I think I have surely fallen
But I feel hands trying to stop my fall
These hands are my friends
They are afraid to lose me to my self
They know that I can not be trusted when I'm depressed
They are the only ones who I really think care
They never gave up on me and never will
I thank them for that
For I know if it wasn't for them I would not be here
I would be in the deepest part of hell
Burning all alone
I great to have friends
But sometimes I do wish I didn't
Too see where I would've end up
But I shall never know for I can never leave them
They're to dear to me
Un roti de Cupidon"Patron.. je suis pas sûr que ça soit une si bonne idée..."
Un bruissement d'ailes presque froufroutant sur sa gauche le fit se retourner d'un bond, mais il ne put percevoir qu'un bref mouvement du coin de l'oeil. Ils étaient rapides, bien trop rapides. Jamais le vieux ne réussirait. De nouveau ce bruit soyeux, semblable à des ailes de tourterelles, mais bien plus proche. Dans son esprit il pouvait les voir, tournant au dessus de sa tête comme autant de vautours prêts à la curée.
Le bruit assourdi des détonations résonna et tout autour d'Emmanuel une pluie de plumes commença à virevolter tandis que cinq bruits sourds accompagnaient la chute d'autant de corps autour de lui.
"Ramasse les, petit. On a encore du boulot."
Avec une grimace mi admirative, mi dégoûtée, le jeune homme se mit au travail, enfilant des lourds gants de cuir pour se protéger. Son sup
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More