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Psylocke Nov 2013
As tears streamed down her face
She cried in agony
Her knees were scraped
And her clothes were tattered

Her once beautiful face
Is now bruised and scarred
Eyes are red and swollen
Her hair is tangled, covering her visage

Once she was an angel
But now her wings are broken
She carries a heavy memory of abuse
A no escape situation

She was blamed by the fiend
Who didn't even took time knowing her
Her name, destroyed and neglected
Good personality, evanesced

She was never sighted again
No one even missed her
Because of the devil
She was shattered into fragments
A poem for the people who are being bullied. Feedbacks? Comments? Will be awesome.
Psylocke Nov 2013
A girl, so blissful and sweet
Has full of problems and temptation
She was hated for her mistakes
For that, she was umpired.

But the thing is, she is brave
I watched her face her problems,
Watched her hold her ground,
Watched her battle for justice

I watched her to a point
Where she wants to end her life.
I stopped her with every possibilities
That I can think of to prevent fate

She was noble
I praised her for such
Being a different person
I was proud of that

Everyday, I smile at her
She doesn't know that
I always look up to her
That not many people notice her glory

I've never been so astonished
In all of my life
Meeting this very unique person,
The dauntless.
A poem for my classmate and friend whom I kept on telling to be brave.
Psylocke Nov 2013
Eight months and sixteen days
Since you've been gone
Nine months and ten days
Since we've last spoken to each other

It hurts to know
That your heart
Suddenly stopped

Do you remember
The time you made me laugh?
Those times you protected me?
The smiles that you gave me?
Well, it's all gone now

I *cried

At the very moment I knew
I wept
For four days, because of you

You have been my dearest friend

I want three more days
To be with you
I want two more days
To laugh with you
I want one more day
To see you smile.
For Mike, the funniest person ever. The most protective guy ever. Probably the guy who treated me as his best little sister ever. Mike, who died at age 25. You will be remembered.
Psylocke Nov 2013
Long cold nights
Lonely old sights
The candle that once
Kept me warm and alive
Is now nothing but
A lump of wax

Nothing to see outside the window
But a rain of snow
There is nothing to hear
Except for the howl of the wind
No more birds chirping
Only wolves howling

Winter is coming
A very long sad winter
A winter that would freeze time
A winter with no light
A winter that would send
A shiver up your spine

I am trapped in my room
Nothing but a book as a friend
A thin blanket as a haven
Tall shadows as my company
Heavy cold air as my atmosphere
This is a long winter
Here we go, winter solstice. My very first wintery poem. Comments? Would be appreciated.
Psylocke Nov 2013
That one night
Was a disaster
It rained bullets
I heard many screams

Shattered glass on the floor
Ashes on the ground
Smokes, still swirling
Ammunations scattered everywhere

I will never forget
How horrifying the sight was
How traumatizing the memory is
It was an inevitable event

I saw everything
Collide in front of me
Like showers of black sparks
I watch them, standing still

Bodies falling, lifeless
Bullets firing, soundless
Men killing, merciless
But I am standing here, watching, fearless
To all the brave hero and heroines. To all the people who helped and deliver kindness. Stay fearless.
Psylocke Nov 2013
I like to wander to places
Places full of letters,
Places full of words,
Places full of stories.

My eyes are burning with passion,
Letters swim across, in front of me.
They pull me in, never letting go.
I'm trapped in a story I cannot fathom.

I am a part of a story.
A story filled with emotions,
Lessons, reasons, and seasons.
Yet, I am only on chapter fifteen.

I am a character of a story.
A character who has problems,
But caring, appreciating, and understanding.
I'm still trying to find a place in this world.

My life is a plot.
I will never know what would happen tomorrow.
The tranquility of time scares me.
I don't want to be afraid anymore.

Our story is unpredictable.
We are in a book of life.
A dictum of peace.
A tiny spark of hope.

Don't close your part of the book yet.
Something good is still happening.
Never ever regret.
This isn't the end.
This is for my obsession for books. Also for me, my friends, and the people's unpredicted life.

— The End —