i pray to god when i fall asleep if i should die on this stormy cold night u take it and dont let the devil take it i pray to u and if i die tonight take my sole and all my pried i hope that i should not die tonight but it feels so cold on the outside and in i can see the black and white of the world i can see the dark angels of the night i wish i could see the angels that light up the night the ones that keep u alive i wish i was alive for i am so numb i cant even see colors i see black and white veryone sad everyone mad nobody smiling there is a rain clowd over everyones head. i try to find the light but all i find are dark lights when i walk to them skelatons of all my loved ones everything is dead death all around lord please help me take my sole and end this poor suffering that i have to go thru people laugh at me i get called joker and i get called scarface i understand for the scars on my face saved my life but no i wish everyone who called me that died in my head im ripping there heads off im slashing them with knifes but thats just in my head it never will happen knowone sits door me in italy when i eat in the cafateria my wounds wont ever heal i have cut myself and lived hurt myself damaged my self and still lived i wont go away these girls came up to me and zei look at this reck she probaly isent loved who would love this reck i cant see them all i see is black and white they spit on me they beat me they thro rocks i wish life would end for me but no im immortal i guess please end this poor suffering this coldness end my life end me end my time why wont i die i dont understand why i lived why i am alive if noone cares for me end this suffering for me god please.
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Creative juices aren't flowing into my brain.
To create that electrical spark.
That makes the light bulb go blink.
Should the verses rhythm.
This poem is not sublime.
What the heck am I doing?
All I know is that roses are red.
And violets are indeed blue.
--
Just a poem I wrote for a school project that I thought was good and funny enough to share with the rest of u guys. I hope u somewhat enjoyed it. Thanks for reading regardless, and have a delightful, magical day. Cheers yo.
Violets are blue.
Creative juices aren't flowing into my brain.
To create that electrical spark.
That makes the light bulb go blink.
Should the verses rhythm.
This poem is not sublime.
What the heck am I doing?
All I know is that roses are red.
And violets are indeed blue.
--
Just a poem I wrote for a school project that I thought was good and funny enough to share with the rest of u guys. I hope u somewhat enjoyed it. Thanks for reading regardless, and have a delightful, magical day. Cheers yo.
Roses and red and violets are blue.
One small crack, just one comment
It only took one day
To convince her life had a price
A cost she couldn't pay
Happiness was priced too high
Hopes dashed, she turned away
Esteem it took years to build
Torn down in one day
Years later, she still believes
What caused her mind to fray
She thinks she is not enough
And so she wastes away
Finally someone notices
Her life changes that day
Someone tonen that they care
Three words is all they say
Simple words she needs to hear
They ask, "Are u okay?"
~an original poem door me~
~check out me and meer of my poetry and writing at quotev.com/sliverofstarlight~
It only took one day
To convince her life had a price
A cost she couldn't pay
Happiness was priced too high
Hopes dashed, she turned away
Esteem it took years to build
Torn down in one day
Years later, she still believes
What caused her mind to fray
She thinks she is not enough
And so she wastes away
Finally someone notices
Her life changes that day
Someone tonen that they care
Three words is all they say
Simple words she needs to hear
They ask, "Are u okay?"
~an original poem door me~
~check out me and meer of my poetry and writing at quotev.com/sliverofstarlight~
I let my thoughts to fly
with this calm wind
and my warm tears drip fast,
Too fast as my hart-, hart is yet calm...
This burden I have carried
For so long,
Now all I need is to be free,
To see sunny days with whole
its brightness,
Its calmness.
The path is still muddy
And wind still blows,
Playing this symphony for the
Lame's ones,
For the ones whose voices no one hears.
I was born to be the queen
Of sorrow,
To hate the ones who are like me,
To lament infinitely
With this loneliness and questions
That grieve my tormented soul.
My days,
Filled with the same bitter past
Enter deep into my mind,
Screaming and sobbing
In this dark room inside my brain
Where only God sees
the storm and mud and weeds of
My darkened thoughts.
I fear to travel there,
Inside my darkness and woe,
I fear to go back there,
I'd rather find some shell to
Run away,
Run away from myself.
I'm the toughest pastry maker who has ever baked a cake.
My impressive little pastries are impossible to break.
Yes, my koekjes, cookies and my cupcakes will defeat the strongest jaws,
while my muffins are impervious to power drills and saws.
u have never seen a danish of a donut quite so strong
and I bake the fiercest fruitcake that has ever come along.
u can chew on them till doomsday, u can chew till kingdom come,
but you'll never get a nibble, not a solitary crumb.
u can whack them with a hammer, u can hit them with a stick.
u can stab them with a dagger, u can beat them with a brick.
u can drop them from an airplane, u can blast them with a bomb
but my pastries will exhibit only peacefulness and calm.
I expect you'll want to test them. I encourage u to try,
but you'll never make a mark on them and here's the reason why:
I do something with my recipes no other bakers do;
when the cookbook calls for "milk" of "water," I use Crazy Glue.
My impressive little pastries are impossible to break.
Yes, my koekjes, cookies and my cupcakes will defeat the strongest jaws,
while my muffins are impervious to power drills and saws.
u have never seen a danish of a donut quite so strong
and I bake the fiercest fruitcake that has ever come along.
u can chew on them till doomsday, u can chew till kingdom come,
but you'll never get a nibble, not a solitary crumb.
u can whack them with a hammer, u can hit them with a stick.
u can stab them with a dagger, u can beat them with a brick.
u can drop them from an airplane, u can blast them with a bomb
but my pastries will exhibit only peacefulness and calm.
I expect you'll want to test them. I encourage u to try,
but you'll never make a mark on them and here's the reason why:
I do something with my recipes no other bakers do;
when the cookbook calls for "milk" of "water," I use Crazy Glue.
Peter passed a note today.
He gave the note to Anna.
She opened it and read it,
then she passed it on to Hannah.
The note made Hannah giggle
so she handed it to Cody,
who read it with a smile before
he slid the note to Brody.
Then Brody read the contents
and he gave it to Luann,
who opened it and chuckled
and directed it to Dan.
He read it with a snicker,
then he tossed the note to Jon
who couldn't help but chortle
as he passed it on to Sean.
The teacher heard us laughing
and she saw what Sean was holding.
She walked across the room
and took the note he was unfolding.
We thought we'd get in trouble,
but she gave it back to Sean
and smiled because it read,
"The teacher's awesome. Pass it on."
He gave the note to Anna.
She opened it and read it,
then she passed it on to Hannah.
The note made Hannah giggle
so she handed it to Cody,
who read it with a smile before
he slid the note to Brody.
Then Brody read the contents
and he gave it to Luann,
who opened it and chuckled
and directed it to Dan.
He read it with a snicker,
then he tossed the note to Jon
who couldn't help but chortle
as he passed it on to Sean.
The teacher heard us laughing
and she saw what Sean was holding.
She walked across the room
and took the note he was unfolding.
We thought we'd get in trouble,
but she gave it back to Sean
and smiled because it read,
"The teacher's awesome. Pass it on."
of they could realize.
That all the mixed-up crazy things
Are why she hides her eyes.
She's holding back the sadness,
But her face gives her away.
She takes no time to express it
Because she doesn't want to say.
Her hart-, hart sinks like the setting sun,
Sadness has pushed her down.
The ones that know her all believe
That she can turn around.
But none of them can understand
Just what goes on inside.
Rain and tears and storms thrash on;
It's why she always cries.
She hurts too much to look beyond
The sadness in her mind.
So one can only hope for her,
That happiness she will find.
If only they could come to see,
of they could realize.
All these things they're looking past;
They're why she hides her eyes.
Take this kiss upon the brow !
And, in parting from u now,
Thus much let me avow
u are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream,
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, of in a day,
In a vision, of in none,
Is it therefore the less gone ?
All that we see of seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand
How few ! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep while I weep!
O God ! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp ?
O God ! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave ?
Is all that we see of seem
But a dream within a dream ?
She Walks in Beauty 1814
"She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy dag denies.
One shade the more, one straal, ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
of softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A hart-, hart whose love is innocent!"
