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Lochness Jun 2013
I say I hate you and I wish you were gone
You make life so miserable,
How can I hang on?

You don’t seem to understand, what this is doing
To any of us,
Do you? Do you?

And I’m sitting here, dying inside
With you laughing at my side,
Not a care in the world,
With your small, narrow mind

And I try to talk, but your ears are closed,
And all I want, is a little love in the world

You think you’re clever with your snide remarks,
You don’t realise how ignorant you are,
I hope that life does bit you in the ***
*Would you finally learn?
Lochness Feb 2013
You are so relieved and happy,
Yet my smile is a falsity.
I should be feeling glad
that nothing went bad
but instead all I feel is
nothing.
I feel emotionless and empty
as if a strike of lightening from that thunderstorm the other day
Came and zapped my emotions away.

So I am sorry my smiles are forced
and although I try to feel remorse
for this lack of feeling
Feeling nothing but indifference.

I tell myself I'm pleased,
But my brain will not acknowledge it.

Again, forgive me.
Lochness Jan 2013
I see the reflection of myself in a public place
and I am saddened by what I see
I want to have a beautiful face
So people stop to look at me
and admire my beauty.
Lochness Jan 2013
This song is
Music to my ears.
Caressing
All of my fears.

It makes me
Ponder my life.
Think...

Twice.

It lets me question
The world.
And why we shiver
In the cold.

And the fear
with understanding

and sadness.
Lochness Jan 2013
Blinded was she; the young girl in the corner,
Quivering with fear and trauma.
There was gunfire, shouts and laughter,
whilst she hid in the corner,
Hoping to blend in the scene.

They opened the front door,
and her heart sank to the floor,
When she heard the orders,
And they noisily raided her scene.

There were only two storeys,
Made of cardboard and metal.
She head time for one last tear;
one last prayer
before the men barged into her room
and dragged her out of the house kicking and screaming
and shouted praise at each other, like she was some sort of trophy.

She took one last glance at her home
In the Congo: the **** capital.
She wished she had died in the explosion, like her family.
She let out one last scream of pain before she was hit across the head
With the barrel of a gun.

And that was the end of Rosa.
There is a war going on in the Congo that has lasted for almost twenty years; the number of deaths that happen are the equivalent of the number of people that died on 9/11 *everyday*. In the Congo 1,100 women get ***** *everyday*.
Lochness Jan 2013
I am young, with hopes, dreams and wishes,
hoping,
dreaming,
wishing.
I hope to be successful, I dream of the perfect home, I wish for the perfect love.
They call it naive.
Does that mean there is no hope?
There is no such thing as dreams?
Or wishes?
Without them you are lost so I am not that naive.
I know there is bad, and wrong, and evil.
But please just let the hopes, dreams and wishes last,
Before reality really sinks in.
Lochness Jan 2013
I am struggling to string my thoughts together
To make sense of this crazy haze that swirls across my brain.
And you are not helping, with your twisting words that do not match your actions
making me nervous, and cautious, and nauseous.
I don't know if I want this
If I want to drown my fairytale for yours
which is more realistic.
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.
You ask me how I feel; I don't know.
You ask me what I want; I don't know.
I need time to think; to organise my mind.
I wish you would stop; I wish you wouldn't.
I do like the tease.

— The End —