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Posted: Tue Mar 13, 2007 11:26 pm
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This poem is called "The Worst."
Mark the flesh with ink of red. A natural red, fresh from within. Don't be afraid, don't be afraid. You'll need a grudge and a blade. Don't be afraid, don't be afraid.
I understand you need a friend, You've got problems that people can't comprehend. It's no dead end, it's no dead end. You'll need help to lift the stress. Don't be afraid, it's just a blade.
Your emotions shrink by just enough To escape between the rusted bars, Only to grow and scare those you trust. You'll need a shrink to patch a leak. They know you're weak, they know you're weak.
Let them love you, but love yourself first. It goes without saying that it's hard at first. Your heart may burst, your heart may burst. You'll need to release the grudge and the blade. You heart may burst, but here comes the worst.
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Posted: Fri Mar 16, 2007 1:31 pm
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sdfghjklsdfghjskldfghjkls
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 2:30 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 2:33 pm
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This short poem is called Long Distance Suicide.
Talking to you is like committing suicide. Because both of us know its killing me inside. I wish I could just see you, God knows that we've tried. But we just weren't there the last time the other cried.
This one is called I Will Never.
I will never tell the girl who doesn't know I love her, I will never walk the dog I raised, until this thing is over, I will never see the band again, whose members are my friends, I will never drive a car again, until high school ends.
I may not study anymore, though it's my life right now, I may not get into college, unless I figure out how, I may not speak to Dad again, he's why I'm so messed up, I may not get the job I like, instead, I'll fill'er up.
Who knows, when I'm forever kept at home, Who knows, I'll never go to London, or to Paris, or to Rome, Who knows, where is my life heading? I wish I knew myself, Who knows, when Dad sees my flaws and puts me on the shelf?
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 8:43 pm
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2007 6:55 pm
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Posted: Sat Mar 24, 2007 7:44 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 25, 2007 4:42 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 25, 2007 11:21 pm
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Posted: Wed Mar 28, 2007 6:35 am
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Intuicide This short poem is called Long Distance Suicide. Talking to you is like committing suicide. Because both of us know its killing me inside. I wish I could just see you, God knows that we've tried. But we just weren't there the last time the other cried. i like this one...
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Posted: Fri Mar 30, 2007 5:05 pm
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Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2007 2:27 pm
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Posted: Thu May 03, 2007 5:16 am
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Posted: Sun May 20, 2007 4:00 am
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Posted: Thu May 24, 2007 1:03 pm
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