I love to write poetry. I am incredibly insecure. Autumn is my favourite season.
Four in the morning And I'm surrounded by stanzas Thoughts Fear and terror Praying for the better weather Sullen and wild My mood grows Loudly becoming What no one knows..
Desperate for someone. To notice or to care. You reach out your hand. But no one is there. Exhausted, my eyes. Wander off into the distance. Longing if I could. Take back my existence.
Whispering disease Breathe it in the air Begging me surrender More than I can bare Numb is my sleep Until you control my dreams And when I wake up I can still hear your screams.
I am sewn together. Oh so completely. But darkness swept over me. So very discreetly. I can hear your voice. Cries inside my head. This burden weighs upon me. Don't want to get out of bed.
Sad but silent, truth be told Our hearts, grief behold. Bitter memories of a dream Guide our souls to an evil scheme. Sorrow and woe of this eve's night Evil eyes are in our sight.
An interesting character, wise but beautiful I cannot stop thinking about your perfection, your gaze. I bet you don't even think about me.
Into the darkness They perish and weep The damage and secrets Their soul cannot keep The night falls deeply The stars fill the sky Alone they dance Together they cry..
So many people dancing alone Their beauty divine Their name unknown Their voices unheard Their words unspoken Their eyes left blinded Their hearts left broken.
I listen to particular songs. They make me cry. But I absolutely adore them....
It's etched in these pages. It's as pure as the snow. It's seen on the faces. Of many I know. It devours their being. It taunts their mind. A cure is something. They cannot find.