"closley" poems
We are never at peace
Although thats how it seems
And the weight I've been carrying
Has finally been lifted off my shoulders
But i've kept my walls up and they are closley gaured
As I will find my lover
And he shall find me
But until then I prepare for WWIII
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC
if you look at her closley
you can see that,
ever now and then
she turns away from her group of friends
her smile falters
and she becomes another person for a few seconds;
a sad person
a person who is broken and damaged,
and after a few depressing seconds,
she goes back to the group,
smiling and joking around,
she almost looks like she is actually happy
but if you look at her closely
you can see how spurious her smile really is
and you can see all the wreckage behind her fake smile.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
Roses are red, violets are blue.
Sugar is sweet, and so are you.
The inside says you're dying,
but your face shows you smiling.
It shines so bright, and her hair is the most perfect shade;
Blonde and light.
The makeup never fades, all hairs are in place.
Nor pimple or blackhead could be seen on this flawless face.
She wears the cutest clothes, and knows the newest trends.
How could you not want to be her best friend?
Look closley again. Are things really what they look to be?
Now you're second guessing.
Her smile is tearing at the seams.
Your head begins to whirl, how could you not see?
She is the most imperfect girl.
Scars run on her wrist, marks go down her thighs.
Beautiful eyes full of hurt, and a white smile full of lies.
A look in the mirror, and she hates what she sees,
don't look now, but she is in too deep.
A cut on the wrist to prove pain still exists,
and one more skipped meal to maybe change how she feels.
The rumors hurt, and the name calling is bad.
Little girl, you're much too young to feel this sad.
These feelings were all too real to her.
This life wasn't worth living for, that's for **** sure.
She wants this to all end and leave.
She grabs the pills, and pulls up her sleeves.
Down with the medicine.
It started getting harder to breathe.
Let me tell you a secret.. this little girl is me.
A closed door, a broken mirror, and a blood stained towel.
Everyone was left with the question "How?"
She was Mommy's little angel, and Daddy's little girl.
But as you can see,
in the end,
the roses wilt,
and the violets are dead.
Another girl with their wrists stained the color of red.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC