Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jun 2013 Esmé van Aerden
Mia
She has such a sad soul.
My arms reach out to her almost without me noticing.
She wears her pain like a veil:
Blocking out the world and keeping her cocooned in a shell.
I can still see the history of suffering,
The longing for less.
More invites pain like a beacon.
Keep her safe, I whisper to the angels.
 Jun 2013 Esmé van Aerden
jackie
And even if things don't work out we will always have those years where all we knew was us.
Where all that mattered was us.
Where we knew that our love was different and the strongest of all.
Where I know that it still is.

I know you'll realize it one day.
When you do I will be here waiting with my arms wide open.
Waiting to fall into beauty again.
Waiting to start dreaming again.
Waiting for hope.
Waiting for you.
Recently two of my friends had problems
with themselves
I know it's really hard for them.
Feeling inadequate
worthless
useless
ugly
horrible.
I feel that way too
all the time.

I just got down to write one whole page of long message
for the two of them.
They teared.
For once I actually felt like I did something write
I actually felt like I was loved
I actually felt like I was a good friend.
(but this feeling went away as soon as it came).

I realise that
I can't go
battles
journeys
fights
with themselves and everything else.

But I promise
I will be standing by their side
to give them support
to lend them a hand
to put a smile on their faces
to let them know that they are still worth it
to let them know they are loved
to let them carry on
to give them strength.

:-)
"The saddest people are the people
who try the hardest
to make others the happiest.

Because they know how it feels like
to be worthless.

And they do not want anyone else
to feel the same way."
soon i will f a d e
like a photograph
left upon the windowsill,
and you will wipe away
my name from your lips

my laughter will become
a faintly familiar echo
in the hollows of your memory,
and unlike your thriving soul,
i will be fixed in a state of affliction
by the absence of your tenderness

yes, the fire in your heart
that once burned brightly for me
is growing dimmer by the hour,
however, you shall remain with me
e v e r m o r e
Here I lay
Numb
Cold
Bitter

Till the morn
Pain
Anger
Regret

From my mind
Fear
Hate
Love

Here I lay
Empty
Wasted
Life
There’s a thunder inside your chest, Nick.
I can feel the echoes,
as my palm pressed on your shirt.
© http://peterandtink.wordpress.com/
We Turn,
Matching Pistols,
Powder burns,
barrels whistle,

one man falls,
one man stands,
winner take all,
that's how we planned,

mission complete,
or so we thought,
nothing can compete,
with the lesson taught,

scream out loud,
for all to hear,
I thought you were too proud,
to ever shed a tear,

lying on the ground,
searching for the light,
cold red blood all around,
no reason left to fight,

for a life that's been wasted,
chasing after shattered dreams,
victory never tasted,
as great as it now seems,

your loss was a release,
from all your sin and pain,
in Hell there is no peace,
you'll surely go insane,

and beg to be forgiven,
for all that you've done bad,
the last chance you've been given,
to remember the life you had,

with me by your side,
together we've traveled,
all the world wide,
the future unravled,

the only place I've never seen,
is the place that you are now,
what does this all mean,
please try to show me how,

to find the open abyss,
the blackened sky above,
that has ended all this,
that could have been true love,

I never got to show you,
how much I really cared,
all the terrible things you do,
how you ever dared,

to take her away from me,
the way that you did,
did you ever think to see,
we were just foolish kids,

now you rest,
in a long wooden box,
the last real test,
is when the devil knocks,

to claim his next victim,
who has made a big change,
like summer to autumn,
you acted so strange,

from a diamond in the rough,
a ruby in the pale sand,
to a strong and tough,
different kind of man,

please tell me how you feel,
now I see that you were right,
tell me this is real,
did we really just have that fight,

in the end I get the girl,
thats how the story goes,
the rest shall unfurl,
what the future holds no one knows,

maybe love will come in time,
marriage and future like I planned,
watching children on the jungle gym climb,
reaching out for their father's hand,

thats the kind of life I want,
with my new belle,
but your memory haunts,
making my life a living Hell,

I think everyday,
about giving up,
nothing left to say,
left looking up,

to the one that started it all,
hoping he can help me now,
now that I know it is time for me to fall,
hoping he is looking down,

suicide is a selfish escape,
from my living Hell,
better than the mental ****,
of a padded cell.
once a month estrogen teaches girls the
meaning of happiness
by feeding them to the darkness of their own imagination.
once a month i see my incompleteness manifesting as physical imperfection
staring
staring me down at my ugly claw feet my jiggly thighs my soft stomach my mammoth arms my swollen eyes my misshapen eyebrows my thinning hair
even my fingernails,
the shape of my fingers all wrong
Is that Abraham Lincoln at the end of the bar
He's got all the women giggling and flustered
Him and his little red fancy sports car
How can any man next to him even pass mustered

I swear Honest Abe keeps on eyeing my girl
As I draw her closer, holding her tight
He stands and he winks says wanna go for a whirl
Last I saw of her was the wave from that cars passenger side

Now I have the 16th president to blame for my misery
Who would have thought it would happen like this
Always blamed the president that we have now
Guess I'll have to add Abe to the list

Next time I see Abraham Lincoln at the end of the bar
I'm taking my date and heading straight for the door
I figure that if Abraham Lincoln can run a country, win a war, and fight vampires...He can certainly steal my girl!
Earlier I did not know god as God
and gods were my friends.
now I know God and God
and I have a master.

Long before my time, my pagan lands
were deluged by the sword of the believers.

and so it came about that
growing up under the rubric of the believers
I, an infidel pagan, think like them.

so, I approached the high priests
and professed my faith in the one Saviour
seeking innocent acceptance and
they asked, Do you believe in the One God
and His sole and final apostle?
well, that depends, I said, on
how you define 'One' and what you mean
by 'God' and who can be called an 'apostle'.

I was too pagan for the believers.

so I approached my pagan brethren
and asked to be admitted into their fold
seeking innocent acceptance and
they asked, what Order do you belong to,
my friend, and what may be
that of your fathers and their fathers?
well, how matters, I said,
the Order my fathers belonged to, or not
to any, when the Spirit lights my heart?

I was too catholic to be pagan.

And so it is that time passes.
Ever wandering by the margins of creeds.
That yet neighbour me on my land.

Earlier we did not know god as God
and gods were our friends.
now we know God and God
and we have a master.
Next up in The earth Chronicles series....!
Next page