Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Brandon Campney Jan 2012
Take off your make-up.
I’ll take off my mask.
I’ll show you the monster,
You don’t have to ask.
I want you to know
Who I really am.
Not so much bad,
As much as a scam.
Hypocritical liar,
False truths nothing real.
I say I’m happy and nice,
But that’s not how I feel.
And I know for a fact
Under all of that stuff,
You’re beautiful girl,
And you’re not all that tough.
You’re gorgeous, know doubt
Much better than I.
Pull back the veil.
Part the clouds in the sky.
Show me the moon.
Give it a stare.
Come here with me and
We’ll begin to compare.
You see we are so similar,
Me and the moon.
We’re peas in a pod.
We sing the same tune.
The moon is amazing,
At least at a distance.
But once you get there
No one there for assistance.
No one for comfort,
No one for love,
No one below,
And no one above.
No compassion or hatred.
It’s something that’s new.
It’s the best of one world,
And it’s the worst of two
You’re alone in this place.
It’s like I’m not even there.
You ask and I answer,
But there’s nothing to spare.
You can check for beats,
But ice has no pulse.
It has no feelings,
And there are no souls.
Just a baron wasteland
Of all your false hope.
See if you can love me.
See if you can cope
With my heart frozen over.
You’ll hate me I swear,
But you promised me, you said
That you wouldn’t care.
So at the same time.
Show me you’re a face.
I know I will love you,
But I’m a disgrace.
The first poem i wrote that i actually liked. Junior year of high school.
Brandon Campney Jan 2012
We scribble in lead
Still the light won’t shed
Just one single beam
On the wonders we mean
The thoughts are bottled
Our motives modeled
But left empty handed
With all words stranded
Among a blank page
Lost war we’ve waged
Our feelings much more
But our pens on the floor
We’re excessively writing
The words still fighting
Though many have passed
The attempts still last
It’s a battle bound to be lost
Lives and souls the cost
Yet we bare are chests
Hope for the best
That maybe one will hear
The written message clear
Each letter we arrange
Form words meant to change
Bring happiness, end quarrel
Each story with a moral
Thousands of poems are done
And I’m riding on just one.
An old poem. I hate my old poems.
Brandon Campney Jan 2012
Lost among the confusion,
Convincing myself everything is real.
I don’t know whether to let it hit the floor,
Or hold it in my arms and not let go.
It’s the child we’ve had for so long.
Grown up but we still don’t recognize him.
His face is ever changing,
Never the same as it was before.
Everyday we hope its over,
And we can finally die in peace.
You always say it’ll be alright,
Everything will be okay.
But I won’t be your tiny puppet,
I’ll leave no more strings attached.
I’ll escape from this world,
The world that you’ve spun like a spider.
Widows always were the most deadly.
Tell me what will you do once I’m gone?
Move on like it didn’t happen,
Like it was all a dream?
Well it was for me at first,
Before when I was so naïve
But I’m awake now,
I can see you.
I can see you standing over me,
Sharpening your knife.
Waiting for the moment,
The perfect moment to sink it in.
Watch me wither away,
Until I’m nothing more but a memory.
And watch that memory fade as well,
Until there’s nothing left of me.
See what you can do,
See the power that you have?
You made me give up everything,
In exchange for my worst fear.
I gave it all to you,
My time, my care, my trust, my love,
And what you gave me was a lie.
The first poem i ever wrote. My sophomore year of high school.

— The End —