alexander-monday-1 - Hello Poetry

It's another night where I feel Like I need someone to understand me. I can't contemplate any More of my life. I've tried to live, I've tried to die... I'm still so cold inside. I"m bitter, I'm bored. I'm lonely, I'm sore. I'm crying, I'm trying. I'm lying and I'm sick of it. Can we all just stop? Why can't we stop? Will we just stop... This pointless existence Faced for masses, Yet blinded by adversity And wills of actions. Can we all just stop? Why can't we stop? Will we just stop existing? I have.

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Apr 1, 2013

Apr 1, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC

Unabashedly

It's another night where I feel Like I need someone to understand me. I can't contemplate any More of my life. I've tried to live, I've tried to die... I'm still so cold inside. I"m bitter, I'm bored. I'm lonely, I'm sore. I'm crying, I'm trying. I'm lying and I'm sick of it. Can we all just stop? Why can't we stop? Will we just stop... This pointless existence Faced for masses, Yet blinded by adversity And wills of actions. Can we all just stop? Why can't we stop? Will we just stop existing? I have.

21

I still wonder About the past. I'm sure most of us do. Quite cliche of my like to say, I still wonder About the past. Conflicted, knowing friends won't change. Jaded by relationships, As I watch them all fade. Calmed by smoke, more than fire. Hard to find inspiration, Out of things that won't transpire. Although the glass is half empty (sometimes half full), Why has no one questioned, Who made a glass so dull? Because glass cups never were, Before man made it so. Where did all that water come from? Where will it all go? Like memories that make up life Paint lemons shades of bold.

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Nov 25, 2012

Nov 25, 2012 at 5:06 AM UTC

My Lemons Are Bold Enough, Mrs. Beauregard

I still wonder About the past. I'm sure most of us do. Quite cliche of my like to say, I still wonder About the past. Conflicted, knowing friends won't change. Jaded by relationships, As I watch them all fade. Calmed by smoke, more than fire. Hard to find inspiration, Out of things that won't transpire. Although the glass is half empty (sometimes half full), Why has no one questioned, Who made a glass so dull? Because glass cups never were, Before man made it so. Where did all that water come from? Where will it all go? Like memories that make up life Paint lemons shades of bold.

22

Today I stared at The Scream And am proud to say, I understand what it means. Seconds, Days, Minutes, Nights. The Scream represents Immortal life. And who really wants to live To be one hundred years old? To see the world they know, slowly go? I've seen Death, on multiple occasions... He tells me it's okay To feel this sort of pain. Deep down it burns, but it cools my skin. Your words... Unable to keep me in. And who really wants to live To be one hundred years old? When there's nothing to do, but grow cold? Gently pour your tears on my eyes. The feeling is great. It reminds me of the sky, Like your hair reminded me of being naive. These feelings are mine, As you stab me in my side. And who really wants to live To be one hundred years old? Memories still in mind; What torment for every burning soul.

0

Nov 14, 2012

Nov 14, 2012 at 8:11 PM UTC

100 Years

Today I stared at The Scream And am proud to say, I understand what it means. Seconds, Days, Minutes, Nights. The Scream represents Immortal life. And who really wants to live To be one hundred years old? To see the world they know, slowly go? I've seen Death, on multiple occasions... He tells me it's okay To feel this sort of pain. Deep down it burns, but it cools my skin. Your words... Unable to keep me in. And who really wants to live To be one hundred years old? When there's nothing to do, but grow cold? Gently pour your tears on my eyes. The feeling is great. It reminds me of the sky, Like your hair reminded me of being naive. These feelings are mine, As you stab me in my side. And who really wants to live To be one hundred years old? Memories still in mind; What torment for every burning soul.

36

Am I really The air that you breathe? 'Cuz I'm ready To see the truth behind your lies. I'm still dreading When they shape into your eyes. I've yet to shed a tear. Bleeding tongues, Burning hands... That sound still hurts my head. A click of the hammer, My dreams will spill out, This is my answer To my questions of doubt. Take away That tone in your voice. Shake me awake when you go; For I long To be Close to you. She cries out to her god She begs him to come. I'm sorry my dear But, Bleeding tongues, Burning hands, That sound still lingers In the back of my head. I hope you realize your god is dead. Your savior is gone. Look at yourself, Eating your cancer, Showering me with Pain that I know. That fear in your heart Is what keeps me around. Your savior is nowhere, Hiding in the clouds. Please grasp this message And look towards the ground. The only thing you need, Is the hope in your fear, Now turn around, breathe and face me my dear...

0

Nov 12, 2012

Nov 12, 2012 at 3:29 PM UTC

Doubtfully Living

Am I really The air that you breathe? 'Cuz I'm ready To see the truth behind your lies. I'm still dreading When they shape into your eyes. I've yet to shed a tear. Bleeding tongues, Burning hands... That sound still hurts my head. A click of the hammer, My dreams will spill out, This is my answer To my questions of doubt. Take away That tone in your voice. Shake me awake when you go; For I long To be Close to you. She cries out to her god She begs him to come. I'm sorry my dear But, Bleeding tongues, Burning hands, That sound still lingers In the back of my head. I hope you realize your god is dead. Your savior is gone. Look at yourself, Eating your cancer, Showering me with Pain that I know. That fear in your heart Is what keeps me around. Your savior is nowhere, Hiding in the clouds. Please grasp this message And look towards the ground. The only thing you need, Is the hope in your fear, Now turn around, breathe and face me my dear...

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