poems by teens
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I knew the day he left me, he wasn't coming back.
The girl he used to love, had finally got him back. These feelings that I held within Were
burning through my soul. I hate the girl he si with now, my best friend, nevermore. -Kalli
The World Is A Spiders Web A beautiful spiders
web, glistening and sparkling with something dead. How could
something so pretty, turn out to be so cryptic? Destroying equally
delicate butterflies with a single nip. Isn't the world like a
spiders
web? So easy to get entangled, so easy to become dead. The world
is
beautiful, yet cryptic too... has it entangled you? -Marie
John Lennon: By Jessica
why does everyone morn
Over a man who died so long ago,
Over a man who held the torch of love
All across the universe
I think why, is just because
He was the walrus, he was the man
He was the peacegiver
At any command
His music touched us all
In a very sweet spot
Even when he left us all
When he was buetly shot
*Jessica*
Setting SunThe sun sets casting colours of all
different hues,
spreading out it's shades as only the sun can do,
it fades to an even pink, and only then does it start to sink,
as it slips away, i sigh to myself and say, there'll be another one,
some day.
--Divinity
Is my whole life a dream,where I'll wake up in a second? But you never know you
are dreamingwhen you actually are. You think dreams are reality until you wake up.
So, no, if my life was a dream, it, well would'nt have been possible, because I just
asked myself, is my life a dream? --A
Underneath it All
Underneath my exterior
Underneath my clothes
Underneath my words
A special person grows
I may not be beautiful
My cloths may not be the best
My words not always kind
But I am as good as the rest
If you look
Underneath it all
You will know it's true
You will see the beauty inside
And underneath me too
--AMT
"It isn't there"
Steaming through the medows, but it isn't there.
Touching through the glass and I don't care.
Is it true or is it top?
As they drop the juice to the cop?
I can't recognize what they say.
In my mind the pictures lay.
I look at the stiches,
They cackle and scream like old, old witches.
Sighlent as they scream in the night,
I think I will if I might.
The weel keeps turning and turning without a sound,
Nothing is disturbing the way it goes around.
You act so crazy but maybe not an act now.
Keep going and going without knowing how.
-Pete
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