The emptiness that I feel inside
Doesn't have words that I can describe
The loneliness I feel throughout
It was her fault without a doubt
She's still alive but to me she's dead
Of everything that we've ever said
I can't stand to live with her
All the time we fight
Because I don't forget anything
Nothing's alright
My Dad says she cares
He says that she's stable
When I was cutting myself
She only cared about the table
I don't know how I'll feel today or tomorrow
'Cause every other day is a day I feel sorrow
Some kids are lucky
Not having to deal with this bomb
Because this poems about you, so called--Mom.

Lovesick and tender, his heart rolls yet again,
on the flowerbed watered by a petite maiden,
it jumped out bleeding all over, loudly wailing
wounded by the sharp thorns galore, kept hidden,
"Ä rose is a rose is a rose" aloud, he repeatedly chants,
to his swollen heart, he reassuringly quotes,wriggling in pain.

The bleeding would stop soon, a sweet pain would  take over,
if only one is a lover,one feels that way, be aware,
don't get bitter,not just for now, a time might later come,
love , be loved, bear the scars of the heroic war wounds on hearts.

to go back in time and recall how one fought one's wars,
to win the heart of the lady loved, then if it fails,smile!

walk back in time,to visit that historic spot, in the story
of one's life,where one finally fell smiling,unflinching
before the dagger eyes of the  maiden, without mercy.