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Chelsea Hopkins Feb 2013
Maybe love is powerful.
Maybe love isn't a waste.
If given to the wrong person,
The feeling won't be returned.
In turn, creating the opposite effect.
Regret, depression, and sadness.
If love is given to the right person,
It seems as if the world is in your hands.
Love is always misunderstood.
Love is given wrongful names because of this.
Love generates all kinds of good.
Fulfillment, happiness, and gratitude.
Love is the key to peace.
Hate is the key to war.
Love can brighten a soul.
Love should be given out aimlessly.
Love is the best gift you can give.
Love is the language we all speak.
Not with tongue, but with soul.
Love is understood by all.
Chelsea Hopkins Feb 2013
We were all created by some higher power.
All religion agrees with this idea,
They just give it a different name.
We are all sent into this life.
Some sick version of a game.
Or maybe life has a purpose.
Everyone at some point has asked or wondered about it.
We each have a different answer.
But like so many other ideas,
The question of meaning has never been answered.
Has anyone thought that maybe,
Maybe this is suppose to remain a mystery?
I've read in a variety of texts that
Life has many paths to be followed,
And we'd get plenty hurt along the way.
Tell me, when you've lost all faith,
Are you suppose to feel any emotion?
We all have in some form,
Lost our way...
Along the way...
I just can't seem to find
The right way back.
For on the many paths of life are detours.
Such as love,
Which can both deceive and hurt us.
We will gain many "friends"
Along the journey.
While some will hold our hands,
And others will stab us in the back.
Our materialistic ways,
We will slowly lose,
And realize we are more than just a mere body.
No matter what I do,
No matter how much I seem to learn
I find myself wandering off the path
Each and every day,
Longing to be a stray.
Maybe that's the way things should be.
Maybe there arn't really set paths,
And I'm just wasting my time.
Searching, and countless hours of seeking.
Set on sort of permanent repeat.
Chelsea Hopkins Feb 2013
Your words run through my mind,
Like a broken record.
More, and more over time.
I use to believe in forever.
I find myself gradually losing this endeavor.

What we had
Is what I ache for.
Did you mean anything you ever said?
Quickly opened, and quickly shut.
There's no hope
For the future of this door.

Do you believe in the life we led?
I never thought I'd be alone.
I feel so empty...
Without you, I feel dead.
I'm losing hope for what's left of the "we."

I look at your photograph,
With tears forming in my eyes.
You mean so much to me.
It seems as though you left
Without a trace of goodbye.

There's not a single day you don't
Pass through my mind, and all I can pull
Myself to do is cry.
Was never taken literally but
This pain in my chest...
I feel it way too deep.

The worst of it all
Is the act as though it never happened.
You'll never be there to catch me as I fall.
How can you pretend?

Those three words you whispered in my ear
Is all it took.

You're almost too good at what you do.

Too good to be true.

You had me fooled.

Drown me out
In everything you're not about.

I find it so hard to feel.
You use to numb my pain
With your false words, and your false
Taken by me
All in strife.

All of these emotions.
Poem, after poem.

I haven't lost sight of my devotion.
Although your's has dimmed.
Long ago, set out in motion.

Tell me you love me,
So I can make it through another day.
Pretend to care,
And be sure to hold sway.

Feed me the false hope, of our false
Future together.
I'd rather hear the distortion,
Then try to come to terms with the actual,
Unholy proportion.

My mind tells me to stand clear,
But my heart is louder
And tells me to stay near.

Please, come closer.
I can almost feel your breath.
Extend your arms, reach for my hand.
Sometimes I wish I could stand...
On my own again.
All alone.
Can we just pretend?
For I haven't grown,
I'm stuck in this single space.
I can no longer keep up with the pace.

Layer, after layer
Emotions run high.
I fell in love with a player.
No chance for goodbye.

Pretend to live,
Pretend to love.
Start from scratch,
All over again.
Begin again.
All alone.
All  over again.
Can we pretend?
Chelsea Hopkins Feb 2013
The dogs,
They howl.
A warning sign
To The believers.
The planets shift,
Changing everything.
Natural disasters,
The elders foretold.
Have you seen enough yet?

The dogs,
They howl.
All in due time,
We'll regret even trying.
We'll regret everything.
Didn't the anti-Christ tell you?
Salvation is too far to grasp.
Chose a side.
As the river leads,
The sky bleeds
Raining death upon the remainder.

The dogs,
They howl.
At nothing,
Sometimes it seems.
Locked in the church
With demons raging hatred outside your doorway.
Ancient myths prove to be right.
Where's your scholar now?
The unknown is what we fear the most.
If only we'd believe them.

The dogs,
They howl.
Maybe next time,
You should open your ears.
Exposing your mind won't get you far.
No one will listen.....
Chelsea Hopkins Feb 2013
I've never felt so alone.
Not once in my life.
This music isn't right tone,
And all I can do is cry.

Sitting here,
Alone in my mind,
Brings on a new fear;
"Should I even try?"

I wish I had someone to hold,
To tell me it will be okay.
My life is starting to unfold.
Going back to normal?
There isn't a way.

There is no cure,
For insanity.
Do I even deserve,
My own self-pity?

Alone, I shall stay,
Until my final day.
I will decay
In this loneliness
Without a single thing to say.
Chelsea Hopkins Feb 2013
There is a brown envelope
Where I keeps my words.
Waiting to develop
into something more.

My emotions
Locked away in a bag.
My devotion
Taking a drag.

My life,
My drug.
The Knife,
The slug.

My true feelings,
This paper knows.
Everything about me,
With nowhere to go.

But here.
Staying locked inside.
There is no fear.
I know this is how I will die.

Me, myself, and I.
This pen and paper, when I cry.
Sometimes I wonder who'll even care
That I write about my life.
Chelsea Hopkins Feb 2013
I can't write.
This emotion is too complex to convey.
With you out of sight,
There isn't an easy way.

To express my emotions,
And how I truly feel.
This motion,
Is becoming so real.

Letting my mind wander.
It always leads back to you.
As I sit and ponder,
You haven't a single clue.

I am hurt on the inside
And my heart is broken.
To sit here and cry
With no words spoken.

This pen and paper are all I know.
Subconsciously expressing,
Continuous growth.
This is too depressing,
But I can't let it show.

I will sit here and write,
Until the day,
I wither up and die.
There isn't any other way
I know how to live my life.

No matter,
How bad I'm hurt
Or what you say,
This paper
Won't leave me astray.

So writing is what I have,
And it will never leave my side.
Answering my questions,
Healing the scabs.
Writing is here,
To hold me when I cry.

My life, and my soul
Are in this.
No matter how cold,
Or treacherous the abyss,
I always do this
Without a single miss.

Whenever I,
Need to cry,
Or feel as if I want to die,
This pen will always stay true,
Of expressing my emotions to you.
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