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Leah Storm Aug 2015
Fate isn't something alive,
Although it's purely divine.
As I write on these lines
My metaphorical ink disappears.
Apparently you can't keep it
For years.

When I was four years,
I didn't wonder how I got here.
I just lived in the moment,
Striving to own it.
Now I'm a poet,
I can write my own worth.

'Cause you can't jump over a hearth,
Without getting burned.
The ashes are my soul
Getting scorched over
And over,
Until I feel full;
And ***** all my love,
Which ends with me
Getting squashed like a bug.
Then a hug,
With the saying
"We can still be friends"
Oh joy, I can't wait
To see how
This ends.
Leah Storm Oct 2015
I don't **** people,
That's not my style.
The knife says
I'm in denial,
But blood isn't spewing from a human.
I've got something huge brewing.
With every drop of blood,
I write another word.
Red ink,
Has access to me.
Because scars
Are just accessories.
The knife says
I'm in denial
But it's blood
With some vial.
Leah Storm Aug 2015
The scariest thing
About letting yourself go
Is letting people know
You're emotional.

And when you cry every night
And wish you would die,
Where are they
Telling you
To hold on,
Stay strong?
No where.
They are no where to be found.
No, they don't make a sound.

So when they come around
In your glory days,
They don't even
Recognize your face.
It's a shame to say
They just want your fame.

But they don't even know
You're emotional.
'Cause you keep it in,
So they don't win.

But when
That one person
Comes along
And sings you
A song,
Let them in
Don't let them
Move on.
Leah Storm Aug 2015
God came down
And touched the sky.
Nobody told you that
Angels could fly.
And on the night
That our savior died,
There wasn't
A dry eye.

And now sitting in this room,
It's apparent to me
And apparent to you
That nobody feels
Like they used to.

What should I write,
And why do I cry?
C'mon weary eyes,
You don't have to lie.
I'm taking this one on my own
I hope you know it's a lonely road.

As I cry alone,
In this tiny home
The voices tell me
There's a party
To - night.
That I will
Have
To - fight.

Waking up in the morning,
It's a shock to me
There's no blood left
For me to see.
Dried up ink
And poetry lines.

What should I write,
And why do I cry?
C'mon weary eyes
You don't have to lie.
I'm taking this one on my own
I hope you know it's a lonely road.

— The End —