Just another suicidal night
Everything comes crashing in
Over and over and over in my head
While my prayers bounce off the ceiling
While my tears fall mute on deafness
So I suffocate slowly suffering
Razors across my eyes
Filled with blood
How my heart grasps for you, your thunderous breeze across the swept up pieces of my broken, maligned heart.
I do not want to write mere words to you, or scrape up mere feelings for you. Those belong on the surface.
I want to dig deep into myself and express the surrender I have for you
I've been here before, you know I have. And I left her stars in my poems but ultimately I did leave her; and you became my star. My sparkle of gold in the dark chasms of my being.
You are not lost to me.
I've been here before and I'm willing to stand here again, fight here again, endure here again because of who you are to me! We are not flimsy straw and fickle mist. We are steel and flame together. Sharp and burning.
My soul cries out for you, yet do not dwell on my miseries because you are not lost to me. You are not lost. Every tender kiss on your forehead, every night I hold you let's me keep fighting on for the day our hands interlock again.
Close your eyes and feel beyond the surface.
Where art thou?
To be torn apart such as we
I am hurting for you
You are hurting for me
A winter's stormy day
Called out for you in the night
The wolves surrounded us
You have gone missing
My Lioness so fierce and bold
Bleeding out on the broken cold
I lie beside you, feel frail and old
Hold my hand I swear I won't give up!
Hey guys. I know its been a while, and Im sorry. I dont really have an exuse for why i barely write anymore, i guess i was just always thinking negative and got tired. But hey,its a new year,
for me atleast. I will do my best to please everyone who thinks least of me with my writing skills and if not then oh well its your opinion nothing to cry over.
I mean i guess things have been happening in my life,nothing
important though, nothing to feel alive for, im just living. And its sad that i have nothing to make my life interesting, I mean yeah im entertained everynow and then but I cant say it lasts. I cant say Im bored with life....well basically thats what im saying,its just bland,a straight line,
crackers without salt,soda without fizz,a rollercoaster without that one guy in the back puking, what im saying is its bland! Im just living my life withouttrying to anything worth while and its left me confused and bored,And this constant rutien [i know i spelled that wrong] has made me stop writing and just see blindly.I dont know if theres a word for how I was,
I dont know if on exists.
But,like I typed,Its a new year.
I have a chance to wipe away some old things and sort out new ones,for me I'd describe it like putting stuff in storage, you dont throw away your problems you just put them in a box and worry about the new things to pack away until you unpack the box and lift them up the stairs.
Or something. I dont know im bad with words. Anyways i hope you guys have a good year,
and if you ever screw up,
atleast acknowledge your mistakes. See yah guys,
Two years of my life,
Two years of my sole,
two years of myself,
flushed down some internet hole.
I'd copied my few favorites,
the poems that were okay,
but I left the rest to drown.
To be gone by new years day.
For today the site will close
and so will close that door.
And I thought that was okay,
that I didn't need it anymore.
But then I went back
and then I started to read.
Read the things that had mattered,
read the words that had freed.
And a picture started to form,
a picture of a lonely girl.
A girl, and her computer,
against the rest of the world.
The 'poems' were all so awful.
Rhymes forced, pacing bad.
But they were written by her
They made her a bit less sad.
They were stories I'd forgotten.
Moments I'd let go.
To me they didn't matter,
but they'd mattered to her though.
So my fingers went into overdrive,
a hurry, blurry haste,
as I moved each one over,
copy, paste, copy paste.
There were only 30 minutes,
until the 31st.
But I just kept on pasting,
refusing to fear the worst.
And 133 poems later,
They're all safely on my drive.
These tales of a girl,
and the thoughts that lived inside.
Her utterly terrible poems,
that somehow make me feel.
Because I remember writing them.
I remember the whole ordeal.'
And I remember the website,
that got me through it all.
The one that let me get it all out,
made my problems feel so small.
Then I click the little x
and the tap disappears.
I don't need it anymore,
and not just because of here.
Because that little girl is gone now,
she's moved on, finally.
And I no longer need her.
Because now I have me.
Finally I stop to take a breath,
as the new day comes to pass.
Poetfreak is dead.
Not all good things last.
Basically Poetfreak was a site I discovered in 7th grade when things were... not so good. I used it constantly until it got shut down a few months ago but didn't move most of my stuff off of it.
Because it was bad. And random. And no longer mattered.
And then, I realised it closes today and I went on one last time. And I read, and laughed and cried at how utterly raw and confused most of them were. That's when I knew I couldn't let them die.
The site claimed that you can copy poems until the 30th, something that ended 30 minutes after I went on the site. In pure panic I copied every single poem over and now they are mine to keep, read and remember.
So why this weird, long, choppy poem? Think of it as an homage to the things I used to write back on poetfreak. (I had a habit for forcing stories to rhyme because I have an obsession with rhyming... not really the rhythm part though) I also felt that I couldn't let a place that had been so important to me die without saying anything.