Site hosted by Angelfire.com: Build your free website today!

 

I've found something in life that helps me express my feelings.
This is my escape from the world, writing my thoughts down on paper.

 

 

THE TORMENT OF A FATHER
After years of tormenting his family, he is sentenced to leave.
Left behind are a wife and three of his own.
The youngest, not even knowing who her father really was.
This man was given chances to see his young,
 but declined the invitations.
As years go by, the children of this man,
grow up not really knowing or seeing their father.
After all this happiness is taken away,
he realizes what he has lost.
Now, only seeing this was all gone, it was far too late,
as he pounded on the floor for some soul to help him.
He dies realizing that he had something,
but left it because of his careless acts.


It came quickly and quietly upon her,
 Like a lion stalking its prey.
 It's unanticipated movement startled her,
 As she tried to run from its grasp.
 Before long, it caught up with her,
 And took from her everything she ever knew.
 The struggle was over forever,
 Death took her life and will never give it back.

 

                                   Regret
Maybe it's my fault, or maybe its fate,
That whenever I want things, I want them too late.
Always never lasts, and that I did not know,
so I ignored my chance and lost it doing so.
For now the opportunity has gone and disappeared.
I realize only too late, that I should not have feared.
Yes, I should have done it, but now it's far too late,
And my defenses, I'm forced to create.
I try to ignore it, but I can never forget.
I'm forever reminded by constant regret.
I try to block it out, but my thoughts I can not fight.
There is nothing I can do, and so, this poem I write.


Help me!
This the scream of an out-cast.
As she tries to climb to the top.
As she gets closer and closer
to the  top, she falls back.
Why most they push her down when
     she's trying so hard to
make a name for herself?
As time goes on, she gets pushed
     farther and farther down.
Now she is so low, that there isn't a
     chance to even take a step up
Everyone tramples on her, as if she is a
     piece of dirt on the ground.


Suicide
           
As she utters a soft moan,
She knows that she is now alone. 
No one to turn to,  
No one to help her through.

She loves no one,
And thinks that no one loves her,
As feelings of anger start to spur.

The anger is now gone.
As she cuts deeper into her wrists,
Now only pain was left.

But all the pain was gone . . .
As she uttered her last breath.


 

I HAVE NO MEANING TO EVERYONE

A tear rolls down her cheek.
She now knows that she has no 
     meaning to the world.
The pain inside increases as the
     minutes roll by.
She never realized all the pain
     that she put everyone through.
Wishing she could take back
     all the hurtful things she has said,
They tie her up to a post and begin
     to spit in her face.
As the hay below is ignited,
     the girl pleads that she would like a second chance.
As she realizes no second chances
     are allowed, it's far too late.
Her skin soon starts to bubble up,
     as her hair begins to singe.
Now her body is gone,
     bones have all disappeared.


                                                                      


ALL OUT THERE


I can't take this anymore, Everything has gone and tore.
Isn't everyone supposed to have a good fate?
My whole life is just full of hate.
Death is everywhere now.
If I'm supposed to be happy, can you tell me how?
I like him, that guy over there,
But I think all I give him is quite a scare
I have no chance with him, I know,
     how I wish this wasn't so!
He is everything to everyone,
When I sit to the side and mean nothing to everyone.
Some think I could be gothic,
     others just see a girl that's pathetic!
Wishing I could be something more,
All I do is cause everyone bore.
How can I move on in my life,
When all I want to do is fight, fight, fight!
Should I listen to the lyrics and fix
     my problems with a blade
     or  watch myself fall off a cliff and cascade?
Everyone would then think it was the writer's fault,
     even though that wasn't how I was taught.
What is happening to me?
Is there something good in life that I can't see?
HELP ME! HELP ME! I scream,
As if I was a little child whining for some ice cream!
Is this really my fate?
Can someone help me before it's too late?


A wind-swept battlefield
of the distant past,
Littered with the debris of war,
The bodies of dead decayed warriors amass,
In the blood-stained fields  ~
Amidst the chaos that
 plagues the land,
Two massive, black-hearted warlords,
Are fastened in combat Ė
hand to hand.
Their ravaged troops
watch with scorn ~
From the clanking sounds
of this dispute,
One will emerge as the monarch,
Claiming the world as his tribute.
And the cloud-filled sky
will grow dark ~

This isnít the way itís supposed to be!
If only you werenít so far from me.
I love you, I need you, but you arenít here.
Deep down in side I have this fear!
Iím so alone, and donít know what to do.
Why, why am I the one to cry?
My tears splash onto the hard cold floor,
     Because Iím missing you.
Canít you see that I miss you like a tree
     That's missing itís leaves to keep it warm
      in the winter?
Come back to me, be there for me.
Thatís the way I always want it to be,
     But youíre so far away, and thatís why Ė
Iím Missing You!

Just A Feeling
Is it just a feeling?
Me, being all alone.
Friends are around,
     surrounding me at all times.
If they are all here,
    why is there still this empty space within?
My heart is filled with love,
     yet missing the love of another.
Is it this hard to find another?
Apparently it is harder then I had imagined!
But, maybe he doesnít exist!
Could it just be a feeling?
Even though it is something that keeps
     me up many a night.
Who is he that holds the key to my heart?
Does this perfect boy exist in this world
     that is so imperfect?
One day I hope to find him!
Though I do not know exactly how he will be,
     I hope he will be happy with just little old me.

A wind-swept battlefield         
of the distant past,         
Littered with the debris of war,         
The bodies of dead decayed warriors amass,         
In the blood-stained fields  ~         
Amidst the chaos that         
 plagues the land,         
Two massive, black-hearted warlords,         
Are fastened in combat Ė        
hand to hand.         
Their ravaged troops         
watch with scorn ~         
From the clanking sounds         
of this dispute,         
One will emerge as the monarch,         
Claiming the world as his tribute.         
And the cloud-filled sky         
will grow dark ~         


MEDEA

               Call me the suffering murderess - 
                                       for I kill to ease my pain
                                                   A lion is inside me - 
               on the prowl and ready to pounce
                                        Fire is inside my heart - 
                                                     it's burning to kill.
                betrayal should be written on my 
   forehead to remind me of Jason's sins.
I love the sound of bleating death moans
         I hate the sounds of Jason's shrieks
                                         I love the smell of fear - 
                                                all the easier to kill.
                                        I hate the smell of love - 
                                             all the harder to kill
                   My favorite time of day is dusk - 
          When sinners rise and angels sleep.
If my hands could speak,
     they would say:
"REPENT, OH EVIL ONE, REPENT!"
I have childhood memories of nightmares
     disrupting me from my sleep.
I remember my mother telling me,
     "Sorrow is for those who won't avenge.

               As darkness swirls through the pockets of her mind,
               A feeling of relaxation fills her once empty body.
               As visions of her own tragic death flash before her eyes.
               All the great problems of the world become as meaningless
                    as a gibberish word spoken by an unenlightened outcast.
               Society's intellectual classes are packed with beings of
                    superiority.
               They are in reality, at the bottom of the pool, drowning in 
                    their own selfishness.
               They are insecure, while shocked, and bewildered
                    onlookers feel nauseated by the careless display of low
                    self-esteem.
               Their self-destruction shown by this girl who now lies, in a
                    flowing sea of blood.
               This blood upon the cold worn floor of a public restroom.
               After the boom of the gun that's clasped in her pale hand.
               That was once held firmly towards herself,
               She was a small innocent teen, without the love and
                    nurturing of another.

The Truth About Love

Love is like the thunder,
   the rain is the beat.

Steady but rocky,
     through passionsí defeat.
Pain is like sunrise,
     with clouds passing by.
Sunrise renewal . . . .
     The heart starts to die.
We are the flowers,
     when stems break apart.
The petals descend,
     And whatís left is a heart.

 

IM A KILLER
I sense the tension as I leave the building
Vicious protesters queue along the wall,
Carrying signs plastered with miniature coffins.
I understand their positions
Harsh curses amplify their violent animosity -

               MURDER!                                   
                             MURDER!                

Their chants echo in my head.
Unexpectedly, my head lowers with shame.
I didn't think this act would really affect
the rest of my life, but I don't regret it!


Who needs enemies when you have friends?
Especially the ones who change at the drop of a dime?
Life goes on they say.
Itís hard to move on though, especially when your heart is living in the past.
Life moves so quickly sometimes, that you miss the important things that happen.
Only, now you realize this and itís far to late to change anything that was said and done.
Wishing you could go back, into the past, to change what has occurred, you only make matters even worse.
What happened to what you had phases your mind every second that passes by.
You think you can put the pieces back together, but now you see that youíre about to die.