April Watson

April Watson Dec 2012

My castle is crumbling like it was made out of sugar.
Was I really such an ineffective ruler?
Everything never seemed good enough always incomplete.
It's falling but at least it's sweet.

I sit on my rusty throne and I realize how ironic this all has been.
Chasing perfection like a sin.
But even that in itself was expected.
That's what happens when you leave your people, your kin unprotected.

Now swordplay and bloodshed rage around me.
Soldiers tripping over lost friends and enemies.
Each side fighting for a cause they think is noble.
Fighting for their humble royal.

They used to love me, they were so proud.
Now they're lost, with out purpose, they stumble around.
Even the ones who hate me look to me as if I have all the answers.
Their eyes never leave mine, they weaken me like a cancer.

Will this mean a new start or a dark age?
Will there be a new leaf, can we turn another page?
What will they do with me now they know my true colors?
Will they mark me as fool and find another to rule?

This is my way of saying that seeking war even for a good cause still brings heartbreak and death.

April Watson Dec 2012

Who I've Always Been.

I've traded in my miseries for the things i'm meant to be,
For the things I want to see.
I've gathered my abstract dreams and stifled screams,
And thrown them over the cliff of insanity.

I swallow hard and refuse the urge to join them,
Because my heart longs for a new place to begin.
My bones are tired, my mind is weak,
Sometimes I even lack the strength to speak.

My ears want to block out the lies,
My heart can't handle anymore goodbyes.
People whisper, people ask "What's wrong with her?", "Do you know what to do?"
They don't understand me when I say "i'm ok just working it through. Trust me I wouldn't keep Anything from you. "

It doesn't matter for they've all betrayed me.
I'll start new and prove I can do anything,
Be anyone I want to be.
No more aching heart, no more slow tears in the dark.
I am who i've always been, nothing will tear me apart.

April Watson Nov 2012

Askew Artistic View.

I read so much poetry i've started to think in rhymes,
then I start to wonder if i'm good enough to write a few lines.

Always thinking in words that'll get me some kind of verse.
Something that sounds not too predictable and hopefully not rehearsed.

I wonder if it in my head is as good as it is written down.
And if out loud it doesn't sound too profound.

I want to create something that has a hook.
Something that makes you take a second look.

It'll be simple but deep from the heart.
Some one will read it and say "that's fine art".

April Watson Nov 2012

Ella

You can call me Ella because i'm enchanted by you.
The way you are and the things that you do.
You never see anything you don't want to.
I wonder if you're enchanted too.

You can call me Ella because i'm cursed.
But the magic here is a spell that can't be reversed.
I'd like to ask my fairy god mother if she knows she gave me the worst.
I wonder if she knew with her gift my life would burst.

You can call me Ella because I live in a fairytale.
Waiting for my prince to come and love to prevail.
I wonder when my fairytale will fall.
Because there's no such thing after all.

April Watson Nov 2012

Peter Pan

He calls himself Peter Pan and he's looking for a new Neverland.
I feel him watching me thinking that I can't see.
But the shadow that he can never quite catch always winks at me when he leaves.

I turn to sneak a peak but I always find he's already looking at me.
I wonder how one can be young for eternity.
Wouldn't it get rather lonely?

I saw him again and he finally said "hello."
It was timid and shy but on the inside he's wild.
I couldn't help myself from my toothy smile.
There was nothing to say but "It took you a while."

We are going strong Peter and I.
In my ear he'll whisper sweet nothings and desire.
I'll just smile and kiss his pink lips.
Because what's left to be desired when you live eternally fighting pirate ships.

This is my first one, yes it's a little cheesy.

— The End —