Summer Poem...Fuck it's hot-The End
.did you ever stopto think, that maybe the starsare gazing at you
The MonstersThe monsters were neverunder my bed.Because the monsterswere inside my head.I fear no monsters,for no monsters I see.Because all this timethe monster has been me.
you are single.you’re not single because you didn’t forward that chain letter,because your replies were too quickbecause you missed one of hisbecause you said the wrong thing.you’re not single becauseyour tits are too small orher ass looks better in those pants oryou have a stomach or“men want women with curves.”you’re not single because you’re messyyou’re not single because you’re not ladylike enoughbecause you don’t fit inbecause you’re too uglybecause you’re too this, you’re not enough of that.you’re not single because who would date somebody like you?you’re not single because you fall in love too easily,or because you don’t open up enough.you are not single because your heart is too bigor too small.relationships are not gained through meticulousness,at how precisely your words landand how perfect your face is when you laugh.you are not single because it’s what you deserve
Take ThisTake this kiss upon your hand,For the ones who starved themselves,Because "ugly" was written all over their mirrors,Because "fat" was the only thing in their way.Take this hug around your shoulders,For the ones who cried themselves to sleep,Because, unlike everyone else,Their pillows kept their secrets.Take this wish for your success,For the ones with wounds blanketing their wrists,Because physical pain gave feeling,And feeling was so hard to find.Take this whisper in your ear,For the ones who live through pain,Through sorrow, through regret,Through loneliness in crowded rooms,Through nightmares and judgement and hatred...Take these words, darling,These words I say to you.Stay strong. Never give up. Keep breathing.Continue inspiring.Let's keep going,For the ones who starved themselves,For the ones who cried themselves to sleep,For the ones with wounds blanketing their wrists,For the ones who live through pain,For the ones forced to survive...And for the on
Selfish Suicide"People who kill themselves are selfish."Well, darling, let me tell you a story,A story all too true.A daughter who became a wife, a wife who became a mother.A mother of three girls...One just above the age of a toddler,One at the age of twelve,And one entering the life of a married adult.Now, the youngest girl was watching television,And the oldest at the neighbor's home.The twelve year old daughter sat at a computer with her closest friend,When something terrifying happened.Her mother was in the kitchen, coughing.The daughter, although unable to see her mother, only could imagine the situation.The mother walked calmly past the daughter with tears rushing down her face,And up the stairs she went,Into her bedroom...Locking the door behind her.The daughter, hearing the door lock, didn't bother to check on her mother.She decided to expect and hope for the best.Five, maybe ten minutes passed, the daughter still sitting at the computer,When the mother stumbled down the
Silly GirlSilly girl,Whose eyes rain crystals,Why do you wish to heal?Do you not understand the beautyOf your ability to feel?Silly girl,Whose grin’s so bright,Why do you wish to change?A soul with no emotionWould appear to be quite strange.Silly girl,Whose face is dull,Why do you live this myth?You choose to be a shadow,Smashing daisies with your fist.Silly girl,With wounds and scars,Why have you chosen this death?No, sinking into your own graveWould be better than such regret.Silly girl,You’ve started to feel,Just recently you’ve started to cry.You’ve been down this path again and again,With a pain you’re designed to deny.Silly girl,Whose eyes rain crystals,Why do you wish to heal?Do you not remember the tortureOf being unable to feel?
.throw my boneson the fire justto warm up yourownthen sitthere and wonderwhy you're alwaysalone
Fake How are you? I am fine, thank you. Stop lying… How was your weekend? It was great, tons of fun! Besides the nights I spent crying…. Are you sure you’re okay?
You asked for dark poetry.i will neverbe niceto my enemies.i will devour them all.slowly.methodically.with a fork.
Dream CriterionIf you can't fly on your dreams anymore,I'm sorry, but don't worry,you have simply grown up.If you can't build a little empire on your dreams,I'm totally sorry,you are a dead man walking.
.does a weedever wonderwhy it isn'ta flowerdoes a treeever feel likeits roots areholding itdown
CYBORGIACYBORGIAHe was no easy boyShe was no human fleshHe used to dream so hardIt was no easy lifeBut then he turned aroundAnd saw her perfect faceHe didn't wonder howHe didn't think behindBut then he traced the pastIt made him think for nightsHe wouldn't speak too muchBut that was not so weirdHe always was aloneNobody ever askedHe tried to kill his dreamIn Love with Cyborgia!He grew enough to killBelieve it couldn't beBut they would met againHis dream had never diedHe reached to say a wordShe turned her back againShe was no human fleshBut had a girly soulShe needed to be lovedBut never wanted himShe couldn't find oneAnd he was watching stillShe started walk aroundA secret no one foundAs he would never speakIn Love with Cyborgia!But then a night came throughFar from a distant truthShe had to find a placeAnd make a great escapeAnd now he was aloneWith not a little eyeAwaiting in the darkHe's fading into sadIn Love with Cyborgia!And now time has passed
He came againHe came again last night,after a long time.His eyes were scanning around for her,but she wasn't here.He found another girl,a girl it seems he liked a lot,but in his eyes...He treated her, I mean last night's girl,almost like she was her,but...He also didn't wantmake this new girl,or anyone else think,that now he would love her,so...his eyes...He was a little typical,though he needed company so much.
Training?Training Is For Dogs,Human Needs Teaching.
.you brokea heart,convincedthat there wassomething goodinside
I AmI am single,but I am loved.I am not a genius,but I am intelligent.I am not breathtaking,but I have beauty.I am not a saint,but I am kind.To the world,I am not perfect.But for someone,I am.
.i heard that eventhe dead have nightmares; sometimesthey roll in their graves
lostto tell you the truth,i can't stop missing myself.
Winter Poem...Fuck it's cold-The End