sadness is what the girl feels,
hopeless as her fate is sealed.
every decision made by other people as she is forced into classes challenging and difficult,
though she knows that she cant revolt.
sadness grips her by the throat yet again by those who push her around,
the teachers, the parents, her boyfriend, the students, even the class clown.
everything is expected of her,
she is someone that people prefer,
due to her level of education and inability to say much in anything,
often not part of any deciding.
sadness pierces through her body as she lets her boyfriend hurt her with broken promises,
never making any compromises.
so many cancelled dates and broken promises lay before her as she hides her feelings,
though she cries at night and stare at the ceiling.
sadness threw her on the ground as her mom forces her to look presentable to the world,
no one likes a weird girl.
her father teaches her to fight,
oblivious to anything but whatever is on his mind,
he forces her and her family to do whatever he pleases,
unaware of any of her family's grievances.
sadness haunted her at school as her friends call her strong but are unaware of her grief,
then run off to do their usual mischief.
cant anyone see her unbearable sadness?
cant anyone get her out of this mess?
how long will it take
for her to break?
questions she ask herself everyday,
wishing she had a say.
until finally it got to her, as she held up a knife,
the one that she planned to end her life.
as she stared at it, she hesitated,
then threw it away.
she couldn't, she knew that.
because if she did, it would only bring up the one painful, heartbreaking fact.
even in death sadness is something she couldn't escape,
because that was her unbreakable, painful fate.

i apologize for my error,
it is a almighty terror,
so as a sorry i made this poem for something i did, but you will never know,
because its like my towns rare fall of snow,
there one minute,
gone in the next to our disappointment,
so have fun,
and enjoy this bizarre poem!

when the world ends, what will people do?
people would loot,
people will pray,
people would try to find a way.
yet when that final hour has past,
how long will we last?
one day, a human will end up dying,
while somewhere else a baby will be crying.
many people look towards the bad things of dying,
but saying that its only bad would be lying.
when that final hour on your life pasts how would you spend it?
how would you live it?
if the world ever ends, a man would hold his wife,
a broken family of strangers would reunite.
bitter rivals would become friends,
and a boy who loves a girl in secret would confess.
the sad thing about life is that we don't realize how good it is until finally its ending
and they wish for a happy ending.
people who oppose religion would become religious,
a student who flunk all the time would mysteriously become a genius
a man who is very mean to everyone would be nice to everyone,
and a woman who hates children would want one.
the end does strange things to people, changing their beliefs,
much to some peoples reliefs.
the end actually is the best cure for all the troubles in the world,
that could be easily seen, for every boy and girl.
enemies would become friends,
a man who hates his wife would want to be their till the end.
a boy would get the courage to confess to a girl or stand up against her father,
a girl who wants to be free will realize she wants to become a mother.
the end is something we all need,
to reunite important things, like love, friends and, most of all, family.

lovely bones scattered on the floor,
beautifully red and intersecting all over the door.
lovely bones ran clean with no scrapes from the knife,
the very knife that took their life.
lovely bones, so beautiful, so pretty.
more beautiful than their blood that tasted ever so sweet.
lovely bones decorated the floor so beautifully and gave it the beauty of death,
not caring that i took their owners breath.
my beautiful bones, my lovely bones,
smooth and heavy as beautiful stones.
my lovely bones, i stroke your skulls,
your blank inexpressive expression tells it all.
i love your beautiful ribs and spine,
knowing that they are now mine.
but my favorite of all time is the arm and leg bones,
i love that bone.
its beautiful and long with a unique characteristic.
its beauty is just so majestic!
my beautiful lovely bones, i adore you!
i laugh wickedly as i fondled you.
my lovely bones, so beautiful,
only getting you was a task i must fulfill.
come to me, my fantasy as beautiful as dazzling stones,
my angelic, lovely bones.

what is a mother?
is she a caretaker and lover?
or is she cruel and uncaring?
why do you not care about me mommy?
what kind of mom are you to put your husband in front of your kids?
being born was not something we purposely did.
why do you hate us?
why do you put that evil person in front of us?
mommy why do you hate me?
why is making me carry the burden is something that you cant see?
why do you blame me?
why am i the hated one in the family?
was it because i was never meant to be born?
why is it only me that you scorn?
why can the youngest of us get away with everything?
why is it me that gets blamed for his misbehaving?
why don't you love me mommy?
why do you hate me mommy?
what is a mother?
are they supposed to judge and treat their children like a bother?
one day, you'll see mother, you wicked witch and oppressor
for i wont be like you, a monster.
i will show my children love
and i wont let them suffer what i have suffered with your lies and fake love
i will be better than you and do everything a mother is supposed to do,
i wont end up like a mother like you.

through the roses petals, the rose saw love for the first time.
it saw a awkward man holding it to the girl who had looked happy and was beautiful in body and mind.
the girl held it delicately to the roses' delight,
and it was bathed in her beautiful light.
through the roses petals, it saw the pure, happy relationship between the man and his wife,
it saw them cherishing their life.
the time they spent together was cherished and the awkward man opened up to her, not like the first time the rose laid eyes on him.
the light and love in his eyes never dimmed.
through the roses petals, it watched the girl,
who seemed like the man was her whole world.
the light and beauty of her smile never seemed to fade,
and it seems like when she was with him, she was in a daze.
through the roses petals, it saw them getting older,
and still the love between them still strong, the kind that many desired.
their love kept strong through good and bad,
it was something that some people could ever had.
through the roses petals on its final days,
the girl was in bed, very sick but her eyes never losing their beauty or daze.
it saw the man sitting by her side with concern in his eyes,
as the rose dies.
through the roses petals, it saw the man lay by the girls side,
he was also sick and both of them were going to die.
as the rose shed his last petal,
the last thing the rose saw was the couple.
the couple knew they were going to die but nothing separated them,
as the rose shed its last petal, so did the couple, who held each others hands as they breathed their last breath.
the last days of the rose's life, it saw them stay together even in death.

love is like a poison,
love is like a drug.
love is like a prison,
love is like a grave meant to be dug.
our love is constantly going into a repetition,
love to us is our freedom,
our salvation,
and most importantly a reason.
it gave us a reason to live,
a reason to hope for the best.
it is our motive,
our love isn't like the rest.
our love is my dream,
love is my ticket from this hell.
your love is something that i cant see
but its there and i can tell.
my anger is our villain,
trying to separate us and our dream.
it is a useless attempt for we tied together by fates ribbon,
and closer and closer our dream can be clearly seen.
is love really that bad as people say?
in our case no its not bad or great,
but it doesn't matter, our love will never decay,
because in my heart, i believe we are soul mates.

why should age determine a person's life?
why is it that our age keeps us hostage by a knife?
why cant a young girl who is 15 cant write a poem to be published until she is 18?
why must we follow guidelines that hold back our dreams?
the truth is I'm that girl who's poems cant be published.
I'm the girl who is held back in a home full of misery causing her anguish.
why cant i be free to make decisions in my life without someone restricting my words?
why does my age restrict my dreams, my decisions, and, most of all, my world?