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echoes fading
like words etched
on wet sand
about to be
pelted with
wave
after
wave
of salty water that
cascades like
tears on
pale cheeks
that fall
like raindrops
on dry earth
about to be
****** up and
buried
six
feet
under
Another poem I wrote as a class assignment. I dunno if the teacher was expecting this.
Sa May 2015
Bury thy sorrow, they said,
she buried her happiness instead~
with him, in his grave.
10.
I wake up in the morning, my door still locked from the night before
Where I hid myself from the world.
9.
Standing at the bus stop, hoping no one notices the cuts on my wrists or my red, blood shot eyes.
8.
Roaming the halls I generally tried to avoid them, but they always seem to find me, again, and again.
7.
Lunch is the same as always, I'm sitting alone, hoping someone notices me...all I need is a friend.
6.
The bus ride home is full of more taunting...all because I love someone of the same gender...
5.
I finally get home, I do my normal routine, go upstairs to my room, lock the door, and get out my razor.
4.
I'll spend about an hour or so, making the same motions over and over again, thinking...I can't change who I am...
3.
My mom comes home and says that she is starting dinner, I tell her okay, it'll be about an hour.
2.
After dinner I read the texts that the others from school sent me...all the same...mean...discrimination against me...
1.
I'm in my closet...with the chair...and the rope I took from the garage...I'm crying at the note I just left at my door...I go and I knock the chair from under my.
This is a poem that involves a countdown. It is also partially based off of the song Make It Stop (September's Children) by Rise Against.
I sit in the front row, very first seat
I'm shaking and sweating, I'm trembling with heat
A heat in my face, that's making me run cold
As hot tears stream down my face, leaving lines so bold
I try not to make a sound, but bursting out is impossible
For I cannot help, my my nervous despair
But it was all so sudden
Yet, no one seemed to care
So with everyone sitting there, quiet, and silent
I sat there, crying, so violent
I didn't want to be there, I wanted to go home
Where I could sit and cry, by myself, alone
This is a poem that was about what I felt at the funeral I went to that was held for my great-grandmother. I was very emotional because I spent a lot of time with her and I was one of the only great-grandchildren that she had that would spend hours upon hours with her.
Silence Screamz Apr 2015
On the seam
of twisted time
through the needle
I can't define

I am pieced together
with poison thread
Black and white
and nothing read

Worn out clothes
and worn out shoes
I walked for miles
through and through

Judge me not
for I can see
Dusted down
and fallen trees

I lay in dreams
on a ***** bed
Nothing to hear
I bury my head
the forgotten in life is not forgotten at all, they are usually just stepped over and missed, for they are someone's mother, father, son, daughter or child
Eleanor Rigby Mar 2015
I am dead
For you killed me.

Now please bury me.


F.Z.**N
Marge Redelicia Feb 2015
bury yourself between
sheets and covers.
stay all day
in your pajama and sweater.
watch the droplets
slide down the window in a race.
smell the hot cocoa
as the steam wafts to your face.
put out those blazing thoughts
with the sound of static rain.
maybe the chilly air
can ease those burning pains.
from busy to lazy,
the city's enfolded in peace.
at least for a moment,
all worries stand still and cease.
i'm ok i promise,
i just miss the rain.
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