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Silver Lining Mar 2013
I feel the Thunder inside me
Crashing around
I see the lighting in my eyes
It lights me on fire
But when will this storm destroy me?
Completely, it has done damage
I'm afraid that I could never be repaired
No one knows
But that's what makes a storm so deadly
Unpredictable, uncontrollable
There are earthquakes and floods that follow
The rain runs red and the earthquake calms
I pray that this storm will pass
It's been so long I don't remember a time before it
This is what frightens me the most
Silver Lining Mar 2013
When the air is calm and warm the white man would tell us stories.
We would lay down and listen.
The tall green fingers holding us gently.
The stories always change.
He told us of his adventures.
He lets out a sigh a the story changes.
Ever changing.
There is a rhythm to the story, making it a song.
The beat comes from the blue reflection.
She moves willingly, gracefully.
The light begins to fade.
Soon our story must come to an end.
The blue reflection beckons us back.
We must go.
The white man slowly turns pink as the light begins to fade, soon he will be grey.
We sit up, out of the fingers.
Looking back we see the prints they hold, tomorrow we will return on the blue reflection, just as the white man always returns from his black slumber.
I will always remember the days when we go back.
Back in the blue reflection to the fimiliar green fingers.
The white man will always be there, never growing old, never growing tired.
He will tell his stories around the world for all to embrace.
But are they not all the same?
Silver Lining Mar 2013
I remember jumping into my bed at night
In fear of the monsters beneath
I never knew what they looked like
But they had a voice
There were two of them
They would bully eachother
And blame eachother for not catching me that night

Every child had a monster under their bed
But where did they come from?
We never knew
We  only knew that they were there.

Have you ever thought that maybe we put the monsters there ourselves?
That they were left over guilt and lies
Maybe we took the monster from inside us and placed it there to hide from the world
But in doing so we only taunted ourselves more.
If we can get ride of those monsters can we finally sleep?
Silver Lining Mar 2013
Be careful what you say, Be careful what you do
Because what you do unto them will be done unto you.
It's not just a tear, it's not just a scratch. Because noone will see the loosening patch.
A smile, a laugh can't we just leave it at that?
A choke, a cry why did we have to say goodbye?
Drowning, bawling.. It felt like we were falling.
But we wait for the gain to come from our pain.
We wish, we miss.
When comes the bliss?
Defiantly not the best, and the rhyming is all over the place.  Feedback, good or bad would be appreciated.
Silver Lining Mar 2013
Music hits the pavement, shattering the silence
Making clean what has been poisoned by man
Pounding a precious beat that makes us dance
Only those that truly listen, hear it
I sit with huge ears and a guarded heart
I just wanted to feel the dance in me
To feel the rhythm play throughout my bones
And watch the notes splash to form a light song
This song, will soon end passing too quickly
The music itself won’t come to a stop
It will slow, causing our bodies to freeze
If it did not stop, we would surely drown
The music becames soft for a moment
Changing from the drums we feel inside us
To a piano that tickles our skin
My hair stands on end as the plinking stops
A sudden rush of sound hits, like trumpets
Starting to play a new beat to finish
The trumpets die out as the violins trill
Symbols crash following a tremendous flash
Leading us to the end of this small phrase.
I entered this, and my first poem, into a contest called Poetry slam at my school. It was a required assignment, but I am especially proud of it.
Silver Lining Mar 2013
The paint danced across the canvas

With hues as bright as the shinning sun

The colors burn, but are cool to the touch

They run and jump telling a long story

Small details melting together as one

They wanted to say something without words

To touch someone without them listening

Words are complicated, with rough edging

Paint speaks every language without a sound

Looking at a blank canvas, a blank world

Is that not what has us dreaming of more?

The dry layers, crash through a closed mind

Maybe not crashing, but testing the seal

The question is, will they let it break through?

Emotions show through the artist strokes

Although not intentional, we see them

The paint drags, thickening on the canvas

Strokes appear deeper in the cool paint

Expressing how they felt without a voice
I entered this, and another poem into a contest called Poetry Slam at my school; it was an assignment, but I had fun writing it anyway. This poem means something to me because I love to paint. Oils, waters or even just a solid color on the wall.

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