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Nov 2015 · 986
Blades
Sharp, Beautiful, Cold.
A tool and a weapon for fighting battles against someone,
be it you or another.

Slice, Slice into the skin.
Drip, Drop goes the blood.
Tick,Tock goes the clock.
Blah, Blah peers that talk.
You can hear this all, sitting in the bathroom stall with your faithful, Blades that cut, cut, cut.
Into paper and into skin.
Cut, Cut, Slice.
Drop, Drip, 'Till your time runs out.
All with the help of your trusty *Blades
Sorry that I've been gone so long, also, sorry for being gone so long and then coming back with a depressed, not very good poem.
Jun 2015 · 3.6k
Milestones
You Weren’t There When I Took My First Steps.

When I First    Talked,    When        I    First      Blew     Out The

Candle On My First Birthday Cake. When I

Made My First Mistake. You   Weren’t there

To Help Me Fix It. You Weren’t There To See Me

Grow. How I Wish You Had Seen

My First Milestones. Now I Am

Old And Grown, You Still Aren’t

Here To See My Milestones. See

Me Get Married, Or Celebrate My

Birthday. Now I Am Dead And

Gone, You Weren’t At My Funeral,

You Didn’t Say Goodbye How I

Wish You Had Seen All Of My

Milestones.
Here Is A Poem For The People Who Had Milestones Missed.
May 2015 · 559
Invisible
Can you see me?
                                                      I see you.
                         Can you hear me?
                                                          As­ I hear you.
                    
                        Do you know how much I cry at night?
                      Do know how much I want to be hugged tight?
                    Do you how much I want to smile?
                        One that no ones seen in a while.
                             Do you know how much it hurts to be ignored?
                       Like your something ***** and torn?
                              Can you be my saving LIGHT or will you leave me to the NIGHT?
                                           I am a wallflower.
                                             I am the ghost.
                                            I. Am. Invisible.
My third poem. I want to warn you guys that I make these up as I write so I'm not doing a lot of thinking.
May 2015 · 3.9k
Raindrop
A raindrop floats down from clouds of grey.
It seems to be cry Night and Day.
Help me O Help me it pleads as it falls.

Spiraling, drowning, falling, raindrops.

It crys and weeps the sky.
The raindrops its tears. The sky it's face. The clouds its eyes.

Spiraling, drowning, falling, raindrops.

Raindrop O Raindrop why do you cry?
I cry for the stars. I cry for the sky. I cried for my life but not anymore.
Why O Why did I ever die.
Hope you'll enjoy this is only my second poem.
May 2015 · 482
My Tragedy
Why
   do
                                            I
                  ­                        Cry?
                                    ­      You
                                          Ask
                                      Yourself,
                                         Day
                                         and
                                       Night.
                                      Why
                                     are the
  Stars so Bright? Why Can’t
     I Fall Asleep at Night?  
               Why Do I Feel
                                      Like I’m Falling
        Down In A Spiral?
Why do Fears Come Crawling? Why do I Feel Like I’m Falling?
Can You Help Me Fight This War? You Ask.
Who are you Fighting For? They Ask.
Myself. Who Is This Battle Against.
Myself, All My Battles Are Against Myself.
I Can’t Sleep At Night, All I get Is A Fright.
I Can’t Eat I’m Afraid of Making Myself Stronger and Losing This War.
Because If I Lose This War I  Die.
           This Is Why I Cry, Why I Can’t Fall Asleep At Night,
Why I think The Stars Are  So Bright.  Please Help Me In My Fight. You Answer.

Please, You Think. Help Me.
Because Under Your Strong Demeanor You are A Person Who Desperately Needs Help.
They Turn Their Back On You Because That’s What They’ve Decided To do.
They Shouldn't Have.
And The Day They Realized, Is The Day That You Committed Suicide.
That Was Her Tragedy.

— The End —