Usually I would write my poems, keep them for a few days and then rip them up and burn them, but I've decided to put myself out there for once and see what kind of reaction I get! :)
'You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view-
-until you climb into his skin and walk around in it' -To Kill A Mockingbird
Please read my poems, enjoy them and rate them if you'd like. All comments; good and bad, will be taken on board. Thanks and happy writing everyone! :-)
Doubt grows within.
A parasite upon my flesh.
The wind is howling like a monster
Longing to be freed,
Like heavy duty machinery
Aching after intense labour,
In the distance a Door slides open,
Only to be gently swung shut
With a distant thud.
Above me water is trickling
off the roof in a constant stream
running off as sweat beads roll off human skin.
The only sounds
A distant snore and
The hollowing echo of an empty paint tin
Dancing in the breeze
The wind attacks once more
Battering the windows,
Rain pellets down as a thunderous torrent of bullets.
We are under attack from the elements,
Yet nobody seems to notice,
Nobody seems to understand.
i dreamt there was a serial killer living in my attic
and boy was it traumatic
I won't drink again till Friday she assures him
-but she does
She sits with clouded judgement
bottle and promise
and clouded heart
bottle and promise and empty words.
Should it be this hard? - It shouldn't be this hard...
He sees her rise, get up with a sigh and leave only to come back with more;
more empty words
more empty promises
more soon to be empty bottles
She tells him of times gone by,
of times lost,
of loves past and
of the dreams she had.
She tells him how they were shattered,
obliterated in a
and of how it has made her 'oh so mad'.
She tells him how
her lover left her when he heard,
almost five short years before
how she never got to choose her life,
all because the condom tore.
and he's forced to hear it all once more;
and she sits with clouded judgement
bottle and promise
and clouded heart
bottle and promise and empty words
He's heard it all before
even if he is only
the tender age
thoughts exploding i feel my head
Deceit is a
bet you never fancied that we’d actually meet.
I don’t know why?
Do you know why?
He turned and said with a sigh..
the end is near
and so your destiny has become clear,
study hard, and be the diligent girl daddy knows you are,
lead with your head, and guard your heart,
run far from here, until we are miles apart
don't ever look back, there is nothing left here.
the end is near.
you can set your roots deep in an attempt to hold on
even the strongest of trees can be forced to bow to the wind.
It's not a coincidence
that the pretty ones
were never told that
true beauty lies within
What do you say
when there remains nothing left to say?
How do you heal
the wounds without fueling the fire?
How do you mend
a broken heart when there are so many pieces missing?
What can i do
to just be there for you?
Lies underpin love,
Love underpins lies,
Life is bliss
When the love meets the lies,
the lies meet the love,
in a head on collision
at the dinner table.
I can never be
what you wanted me to be
but there is one thing i can be
You are the one I
of when I
of the one I would like to
of me as I
My eyes are awry,
My nose too large,
My teeth are all crooked,
My back unnaturally arched,
My hips are wide,
My love handles are many,
My feet appear calloused,
My nails are all chewed.
An imperfect fragment,
A part of the complex puzzle,
It creeps upon us when we least expect ,
it watches and waits,
one must never forget,
it lies in wait,
preempting our mistakes.
While children play aimlessly,
it is waiting in the wings.
We grow old,
yet it is ironically rushed,
never expecting to be caught up.
We know it is there,
but we turn a blind eye.
'It's not my time,
I am young,
It does not wait for me.
We expect nothing more of time
than to tick past slowly
with the changing of the seasons.
We expect to grow old
then to eventually die.
Yet nothing in this life is certain,
except that it is waiting,
Waiting for us to falter
to allow the skipping of a heart beat.
Waiting for the clock hand to stall,
for time and existance
to melt away
into the darkness.
What I would give, to see through your eyes.
To see what you see.
Do you see a poor, feeble, translucent being,
somone who could never be with you?
Or do you see a quietly, proud and unique woman,
worthy of the writings of Maya Angelou?
When I enter a room, you are all I see.
But what do you see? Do you ever see me?