Saturday, August 27, 2005

   o_o!!
o_o!! I did it again!!! I forgot about this place!!

Well, I would post another poem up here, but where I have them all, well... the site deleted them or moved them somewhere... or whatever. Now I can't get to them, so I can't copy and paste them on here. T_T It sucks! And I'm too lazy to go upstairs to get my notebook and type them all out... again. ^^;;

Well, maybe some other time--when I'm not so lazy--I'll post a poem up.
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Saturday, August 13, 2005

Dude
Dude, I forgot about this place... eh-heh.

I'll post another poem up soon.

Too tired right now, sorry!
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Friday, July 22, 2005

   Boredness
Okay... I'm bored... and I'm bored. Heh... Nothing to do...

I cleaned my room today! Now it's all clean, without any boxes in the way! Well, there is one... but it has stuff/clothes in it that I don't want anymore... Should sall the junk and make money off of it... I'm starting to become broke,... again.

Uh... I'm hungry... and my dad isn't making any dinner tonight! v.v Maybe I can ask him to get BK... Mmm... BurgerKing... Nah, his lazy ass won't get anything for me to eat.

Oh, how I'm the unwanted child of them! *sighs* That's life for me.

Well, going to go now... I'll have a new poem posted up when ever I feel like it. Soon, it should be.
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Friday, July 1, 2005

Waiting

I’m waiting...

     waiting for you to come along,

          and take me away.

  I stay here in the dark,

       trying everything to get away,

           so you can come and take me.

     Yet, you haven’t come to me.

          For years I’ve been waiting,

                and you haven’t shown up.

          You take others around me,

                but not me, who’s willing to go.

                     I’m giving up so easily on life,

                          for you to come take me.

          I’m so close to you,

               for you to come take me away.

                    But you don’t,

                          you leave me here.

                                Here in the dark,

                                        to let life torture me.

  You have me wondering,

         will you ever come?

     Surely you have to come,

         for you have to come by everyone, 

               sometime or another.

     How long do I have to suffer through life?

          Do you enjoy watching life torture me?

     Why do you have me waiting?

          Why so long and not now?

     Do you not want me, too?

          Like everyone else here in the world...

You scored as Suicide. Your death will be suicide. What more can I say? Fact: Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Suicide 87% Drowning 73% Disappear 60% Accident 53% Disease 40% Posion 33% Bomb 33% Suffocated 27% Eaten 20% Stabbed 7% Gunshot 0% Natural Causes 0% Cut Throat 0% How Will You Die?? created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as you are dark. you are dark, you like lonelyness, you want to wake everyone to the truth about the world, and at the same time keep it in the dark. you are dark 75% you are light 33% are you dark? created with QuizFarm.com

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Sunday, June 26, 2005

New Wife, Old Daughter
I know she truly hates me
I can see it in her eyes
You might say other wise
And say she loves me
But I know the truth

She acts it out
A truly pathetic act she does
It’s a shame that you can’t see pass that foolish act

You should near the things she says about me
But you don’t hear what she says
‘Cause you are never around
To hear those awful and mean things to me
You’re never around anymore
Although, I could really care less
What she thinks about me

I would tell you
What she says
But, would you believe me?
No, I didn’t think so
You would only believe in her

Your eyes are only on her now
Ignoring me, your only daughter
What happen to you, dad?
Did she set a spell on you?

But, that’s all okay now
Because, I don’t care anymore
Soon, it’ll be all over

One day, I’ll be out of this house
And be far away from you
And this stupid new wife of yours!

One day, far away I will be from here
Where she can’t hurt me anymore
And you can have your eyes on that precious whore
For all you want
I won’t be around to distract you

She can die, for all I care!
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Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Mentally Insane or Thinking Differently?

You all think I’m crazy

      Going insane

  Putting me behind white walls

             behind locked doors

      Thinking it will ‘help’ me

             But it won’t

                     and it doesn’t

             Closing me up

                 Won’t help at all

It only stops my body from doing anything

      Not stopping my mind

            It’s still free as a bird

      And you can’t stop it

Injecting me with drugs

      To suppress this... ‘illness’ I have

You keep giving me useless medication

       keep giving me unneeded drugs

  Why bother?

        Medicine doesn’t help if it has nothing to cure

               It doesn’t help

               It has no effect on me

        Can’t you see?

                I’m not mentally insane

                    Just because I think differently than you

  Continuing with giving me ‘helpful’ drugs

           It’s more like you’re giving me an overdose

               You should stop

                      Unless you’re trying to kill me

               Which is fine by me

                       Kill me if you want

               I want to die anyways

                       What? Don’t look at me like that?

               Dieing is part of life

                  Sooner or later it’ll come

                          So why not sooner?

  And there you go again

        Thinking I’m crazy because I want to die

  You don’t understand

      My mind works different than yours

           But, it doesn’t make me ‘ill’

You keep sending me to places

      Hoping that I will get ‘fix’

            To start thinking like you

      Why waste your time?

             It’s useless

                I am not broken

                   So,you cannot ‘fix’ me

  Different is what I am

  Different is  who  I am

       And it can not be change

    You keep at it hopping I’ll change

         But, I cannot...

                I love this about me

         I’m not mentally insane...

               I am not insane at all

           Just because my mind is in the dark

                 doesn’t make me crazy

              You could be the crazy one

                    For all I know

Does it scare you?

       Scare you that I think differently?

   Are you afraid of me?

       Is that why you send me to mental institutes?

           These mental institutes that’s ‘suppose’ to help

       It doesn’t do any good

           It doesn’t help me at all

Why can’t you leave me alone?

       Let me be the way I am!

       Let me think the way I think!

           Go away!

               I don’t need your help

                 Just leave!

                     And ask yourself...

                         Am I really mentally insane

                         Or, am just thinking differently?

                            ...Think about it

_________________________________________________________________________________
*sighs* Not good. It doesn’t ‘flow’ well, the ending sucks, and all together, it’s just... a crappie poem.

And, thank you to Anarchist666 for telling me my poems suck. I really don't give a freaking damn to what you think.
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Friday, May 27, 2005

   Moving...
Yeah, I'm moving.... Not that any of you care or want/need to know.... K, well... byes
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Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Take Me Away
Someone,
Take me away.
Far away.
Away from here.
Here, is where,
I do not belong.

Someone,
Take me away.
I don’t want to,
Stay here any longer.
Here, is not,
Meant for me.

Someone,
Take me away.
I just want out.
Out of this place.
Here, is a place,
I don’t want to be in.
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Sunday, May 15, 2005

   .....
She had had it! She can’t take it anymore! The torture she takes, and the pain she feels. Her parents yelling and fighting at each other, and to her. Her so called “friends” treating her as if she was some toy, using her and betraying her all the time.

The teachers giving her a crap load of homework and saying she didn’t turn it in, when they really do was “accidentally” loose it. It’s a wonder how she was still able to past each grade. Also, some of the teachers hit on her and try to use her, too. She would tell someone, but they won’t believe her, or even listen to hear. She did tell someone once and they listened and believed her. They went to talk it out with the teachers, but the teachers always managed to get away with it by lying. So, she never told anyone again. What was the point?

Now, don’t get her wrong, complaining about how her life sucks. Sure, every body’s life sucks one way or another. But, all this started before she even started school. Well, the parents fighting and “friends” treating her like crap part.

She has put up with this crap for all these year; thinking and hoping that it would all stop and get better. But... it never happened. It was all wishful thinking. Her life is still full crap and pain.

She is in her junior year, where the stress is the most. The final tests are coming up to say rather she graduate or not. What’s the point of taking them anyways? The teacher might “accidentally” loose them, too, with all her homework.

She wanted her life to end! End all this pain and bull crap of a life!

She ran into her room, slamming the door behind her. She was hoping it would drown out the yelling of her parent. Didn’t work; she can still them. It was muffled and not as clear if her door was open, but still hearable.

She threw herself onto her bed, pushing her face into a pillow, to yell all her frustrations into it. It helped some. There was still pain left inside of her.

She shifted her weight to the right and felt something under her leg. She turns all the way over on her back, and pushes her hand into the pocket of her black, baggy pants. She pulled out the item that was in there and lifted it up to her face.

It was a pocketknife she had found walking around the streets, when she was suppose to be at school. She looks at it for awhile longer, and then starts to fiddle with it; flipping the blade in and out.

She wanted to die, get out and away from everything. Her parents, the school, “friends”, the teachers, the pain, the feeling of not being belong. Everything and everyone... her whole life. She wishes she could just disappear.

But...how? How can she disappear? Dieing, of course. But, how? She wasn’t one for suicidal. So, that way was out of the question for her.
Thinking on how to ‘disappear‘, she absentmindedly flips the blade out, and pushes it back in.

Click

Maybe... just maybe... she could ask God to erase her.

She laughs at that stupid idea. ‘Why would God want me to die?’ she questions herself mentally. She could picture it in her head. She, asking for God to ‘erase’ her, or kill her, and He, or rather his voice, telling her no, you must live. There is more to life, and you should enjoy it.

She sighs and rolls over to the edge of her bed, on her stomach, so she is now facing the floor of her room. Staring down at the floor, she continues to ponder on how to erase herself from this world.

‘Heh. If God won’t take me... Maybe the Devil would.’ She thought to herself.

It could be true. The Devil would take her soul, wouldn’t he? She didn’t care what he would do to it, as long as she wasn’t on Earth any more. Away from the people who put her through so much pain. He wouldn’t mind taking another one, to add to his collection of dead souls, floating around in his places, mindlessly.

Actually thinking it was a good idea... she tries to see if it’ll work. “Devil... Will you take my soul?” She whispers to the floor. “Take me away from this place. End it all... Just end it all.”

She keeps on looking at the floor, half expecting the floor to start cracking open, to reveal the fiery, depths of Hell. To welcome her to come down, so she can disappear and never return to horrible place.

But... nothing happens. No crack being made with blazing flames emerging from them. No demon minions of the Devil were grabbing at her to drag her down. No old, ghostly souls pulling at her to come down with them. ...There was nothing.... Nothing at all... The rough carpet floor stays the same.

Screaming from her parents brought her back to reality and out of her daydream of being gone. She sighs, realizing she still lives in reality and not some made-up crazy world in her head. She slightly rolls back, and stops on her side.

The screaming seems to get louder, piercing at her ears. She wants them to stop. But they wouldn’t. They continue that on going horrible sound to her ears. She didn’t want to listen to them any more. She was tired of it and just wanted to them to shut the heck up.

She wants to yell that at them, but she knew it wouldn’t help. They would slap her hard across the face, for yelling that at them. ...Or do worst to her. They’ve done it before, and she knows that they would do it again. And no one would be around to help her. Even if there were someone, they probably wouldn’t help her, anyways. She doesn’t want more pain from them. So, she stayed in her room, trying to ignore her parents’ shouting.

It doesn’t work, though. Their screeching voices keeps breaking through the wall of ignoring them. She put a pillow over her head and presses down on it over her ears, trying to drown out the dreadful sounds. It only helps a little.

She can still hear their cries of yelling. She growls in irritation, throwing the pillow at the door. The pocketknife still in her hand, she twirls it around, making her notice in again. She looks down at it.

‘Maybe... I can’t drown them out with a pillow...’ she thinks to herself, ‘I can drown them out another way.’

She was going to cut herself... to pass out. She has never done that before... but how does that saying go? ‘There’s a first time for everything.’ She knew it was possible for someone to black out by cutting from school. People would come in and the school would have an assembly and the people would talk about cutting. They would say not to do it... But that doesn’t necessarily mean the students would listen. She sure isn’t going to, she’s about to do it right now.

She opens the blade of the pocketknife once more. The blade slowly made her way to her wrist. She wasn’t going to kill herself. It was just the infuriation screaming from the other room. She just wanted it to stop, and she knew it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. The only was... to black out from the realism world. The only way to do it was to cut her wrist.

She presses down the cold, sharp edge of the blade on her pale skin. She took in a deep breath; ready to take the pain she was about to lie upon herself. She forces down the knife blade on her flesh slicing a gap in her. Dark, red blood starting to leak through the split. She drags it down her wrist, drawing more crimson blood out of her. The deep blood starts to roll downward on her arm towards her wrist, and starts dripping off her fingers.

“Man, that hurts as heck!“ She hisses in pain, blotting up to a sitting position, as the blood rushes out of her newly wound. She knew it would hurt, she just didn’t know how much it would. Yet, something was different about this torture she was causing to herself... it feels different.

She raised the knife again to her wrist, wanting to feel more of this pain. She places the razor-sharp blade near the first cut. She slides it downward again; more of her blood gushing out the slit. The newly fresh redness trails down her arm, joining with the last stream of blood and starts to trickle off her fingers. Feeling the same throbbing pain again as the last cut.

Sure, it hurt... it hurt a lot. The feeling was a stinging sensation, making her arms ache. Except, the feeling was different.... Different from the pain that fills inside of her. It seems to be taking the pain from within her away. And it felt rather... good.

Adding more pain to herself appears to help her. Putting pain upon herself sure in the heck hurts, but she would rather feel this pain than the pain she feels inside. The pain she keeps locked inside her. The aching pain just keeps building up inside of her. And she wants that throbbing inside of her to stop.

Feeling a need to cut again, she continues to slash at her wrist, causing her arm to feel more of that stinging feeling. Taking away the pain from with in her very soul. She can’t stop; she wants to continue this pain she does to herself. It’s a growing addiction. She can’t stop... won’t stop. She’s so into it, she forgets about her parents yelling.

Her blood flowing down her arm, over her palm of her hand, and in between her fingers, rolling off like a waterfall--a small, dark crimson waterfall of her very own blood. Pouring onto the bed so much, it pools over continuing the waterfall onto the rough carpet. The redness seeps through the carpet, staining it.

Her sight becomes blurry, and numbness starts to take over her fingers, coldness followed shortly after. Her head becomes light headed, and she stops cutting. Her had loosens the grip of the pocketknife.

She glances at her bloody, red arm. Man, did her arm ever ache so much! But, at least the ache inside disappeared. At least for now, that is. She had a feeling that it would only last for a short time... She knows--in the back of her head somewhere--that it would come back again. For now, though, she will enjoy it being out of her.

Her vision became fuzzier, and she felt her herself becoming weak. Her body started to fall a little. She tries to stop herself from falling, but she was just too weak, making her body sway. Too weak from blood lost. And she knows that she would black out soon.

She starts to hear a humming sound. ‘What is that humming?’ She concentrates on that annoying murmur. It continues to hum, irritating her more. She wants it to stop, but it won’t. It continues its aggravating sounds. Then, it hits hear; it’s her parents yelling. But, why does it sound like they’re humming? Did they move farther away from her room? No, there was no where farther to go than where they were.

She lost so much blood, not only she can’t see right, but she can’t even hear right. Her body becomes weaker. She has no more strength to hold herself upright and she starts to fall. She has no strength at all--her body too numb--to stop herself this time, so she keeps falling to her side. She can’t even feel the wind blow past her as she drops onto her bloody bed.

Slowly, her eyesight becomes dark. Starting from the corner of her eyes, working its way over her whole vision. However, it’s taking way too darn slow! Why wasn’t the darkness engulfing her right away? She just wanted it to come, but it took its darn time! She wasn’t even fighting it! She knows there is no point in trying to fight it, in trying to stop it. She doesn’t try to fight it; she just lets it take over. After all, that was the whole point of cutting herself.

Was it toying with her? Just like those “friends” of her? Did it enjoy seeing suffer like this? Did it enjoys making her suffer more than what she already went through? Knowing that she wants it, but not giving it to her? By taking its sweet little time? Dang it, just hurry the heck up already! She had a deep feeling--in the pit of her stomached--that it was just doing this to see her suffer one last time before it took over.

She can’t even keep her eyes open any more. Darkness starts to surround her more. She hears something that sounds like a slap across the face echoing through the apartment. Finally the darkness consumes her and she loses consciousness, letting the blackness take her. And now she cannot hear nor hear anything anymore. Nothing would disturb her now. In her deep, bloody sleep, not waking up for awhile now.

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Saturday, May 14, 2005

The Pocketknife
The Pocketknife,
is a fine tool.
Many uses, it has.

It was meant for helping.
Helping it does.
It helped me,
Get away from this world.

It was a gift, you know.
My parents gave it to me.
It was like telling me,
That they don’t want,
Me here anymore,
To end my life.

End my life,
Is what I did.
With the help of,
Their gift to me.

The Pocketknife.
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