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Lena Oct 2
Cry
Cry
Cry
Cry
See if I care.
I’m so numb now
All I can do is stare.
Stare at your face,
Cold and upset.
Why so upset?
Why
Why
Why
I don't exactly know where this poem came from, I just started typing and this is what came out.
Lena Oct 1
Congratulations.
You’re finished.
Wait here, as your light
Diminishes to a flicker;
Never again bothered by
The greed and vice of humanity.

What’s that?
You want to go back?
You sure are funny, Little one.
You forfeited your right to live among mortals
When you finished this game.
This game of life.
Found myself pondering existence this morning, and now here we are,a brand new poem for your enjoyment!
Lena Sep 30
I’ll rewrite myself
My mind,
My soul.
Anything for those
Of which I must atone.
Erasing my music,
My art,
My poems.
All to satisfy
The ones who don’t care.
My "friends" were hating on my taste in everything today and I lashed out. I wrote this poem to help me calm down.
Lena Sep 30
The thought of blood
makes my body ache,
My mind hunger,
My spirit want.

It puppeteers me in ways I had not thought possible
Drives me crazy with insatiable need
It needs,
no,
I need.
More.
I don't know what to write here, but blood yummy :p
Lena Sep 30
‘Does the puppet boy ask
for his strings?’
The way a butterfly
beats their wings;
against the glass
of the past
just another member
of the cast
for the play
That is life.

“If all the worlds a stage,
then I shall play my part”
But that stage
portrays such
twisted
wicked displays
of our
  sin.
Loaded poem this one is, huh?
Lena Sep 30
I like you,
Honest!

I like how you look,
how you smell,
how you taste.

I love the exquisite way you carry yourself
And the compassion you’ve always shown others
In spite of their shortcomings.

How you look so beautiful in that dress
at the dance
I definitely stared once or twice  

So yes, I like you,
I just wish you would like you too.
"I like you, Honest I do!" is a phrase I would die to hear from someone.
Lena Sep 30
Flames dance
Wood sings,
As I give you more
Of my old things

A love letter, maybe
A book
A journal,
A rose.

All yours now I suppose.
I've always thought the analogy of a fire as a way to sever ties to things that you used to love..
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