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Shari Forman Jan 2013
As the golden sun sets,
My eyes tear and sparkle with joy,
The burning torture of the day; gone,
And now the white light to enjoy.
I sit at the stroke of midnight,
Eyeing beautiful stars up in the night sky,
Watching is a privelage,
Yet not to fly.
Yet my ears follow another sound,
A grey cloud is forming,
Yet my eyes visualize something epic,
There becomes greyness for storming!
Stars faded one by one,
Some vanished in a row,
For this was no joke,
Nor any show!
The most widely known star burned the cloud,
For whatever stars were left, cheered,
The night seemed so proud.
Shari Forman Jan 2013
I've spent my whole life wondering,
About life and its gift,
Why I was sent on this earth,
Each day I feel a lift.
I'm baffled, yet content,
To wherever I please to go,
I'm thinking about my life,
To where I stop thinking and fully know.
Shari Forman Jan 2013
He's holding me tightly,
As we're wrapped inside a yellow quilt,
We're embedded together,
With no motin, no tilt.
The beauty of this scene,
I imagined it like this,
With his arms wrapped around me,
As he leans in for a kiss.
The maturity in him,
Makes me wonder,
How perfect he is,
Deep down under.
We're inseperable for a start,
For he's my best friend,
My close companion,
I love him to the end.
Shari Forman Jan 2013
I am surely not an artist,
For I can't paint or draw,
Nor am I a singer,
I sound far from raw.
Geometry is not fun to me,
For I dislike angels and sides,
I will never be a professional surfer,
My fear of high waves and tides.
I will never be a chef,
I can't cook a meal,
I can't jazz dance,
I hate the color teal.
I am no acrobat,
I never took drugs,
I've never smoked or drank,
Or put salt on slugs.
I don't like a big breakfast,
I loathe being sick,
I dislike unfriendly people,
I watch every clock-tic.
I don't like reading long novels,
Nor comprehending difficult ones,
I hate poetry that doesn't rhyme,
It puts great presuure on me; tons.
I am not greedy.
I am not self-centered,
Success id far from what I feel,
This is anxiety, I've now entered.
This is not me,
This will never be me,
I am myself and nothing more,
I am different, as you see.
Shari Forman Jan 2013
It was my father who left me,
To discover a place of his own,
Lonely and disheartened I felt,
For a place called, "unknown."
Baffled was I,
As to why he suddenly left me,
I trembled alone in fear,
Was I a goner soon to be?
Where have my hopes gone?
Withered away to stone,
Leaving nothing but the past,
For a place called, "unknown."
Why do I feel resentment,
My father had a horrifying tone,
Had left me heartbroken,
For a place called, "unknown."
My heart beats like thunder,
As I shiver to the bone,
My father ruined me,
For a place called, "unknown."
Where will I go from here?
Too much my father had shown,
A martyr my father will always be,
For a place called, "unknown."

— The End —