A poem I wrote. On paper, it wuz 4 pgs. long. It's called "Her":
Is all I feel
Does she know my feelings?
Should I tell her?
Does she care?
As these questions without answers
run through my head,
I realize that,
through it all
In the end, it won't matter
what I did
what I said
What will matter,
when the time comes,
is whether or not
I had the strength
to tell her
how I felt.
And when,
that day chooses to come
My head will be held high
as I admit what I feel
And I will hold it high
As she walks away
With no more than an
I won't let her
break my heart
like I broke the other one's
And as the pain of yesteryear fades,
I think about
what my life could have
If I'd had the strength, then,
to tell her
Names run through my head
of those who've rejected my
"odd" nature
And stop at hers
She accepts me
Knows that, inside,
I'm not who I seem to be
That the overhappy, energetic, odd guy
That everyone else sees
doesn't exist
And she knows
that that mask
that overhappy, energetic, odd mask
is slowly slipping away from
my face
She accepts the one underneath
my mask
She accepts
that I've hidden myself behind that mask
So that everyone will see me
the way that I see them
She accepts the true me
The one that isn't always saying
something stupid
The one that knows the pain
that comes with being
an outcast
The one that has become a
of his own grief
The one that has felt
felt love
and knows them at a glance
She accepts that
I greet them both
like old friends
That my own sadness
has created another
entity within me
An entity that's so wrapped up
in pain, and anger, and sorrow
that he cannot see that
he is loved
And she knows that, one day,
I will rid myself of this,
this demon
And finally be free
I will find a girl like this
And my love for her
will be unconditional
And she will help me to realize
That, to be free,
All that is required
is love.