Music around me keeps the peace
of my soul,it saves me from the sorrow.
It keeps me from all the bad thoughts,
my heart is so dark.
Broken pieces everywhere,
they remind me of who i am.
A gentle girl who gives a heart
to be broken over and over again.
She gives its pure love to
someone who will never feel the same,
she collect its pieces to heal again.
She spends her day in thinking
she cherish the hope by dreaming.
Dream can be such an interesting place
for every broken heart,
imagination is so powerful,
it might lead you to where
you really want to be.
Broken heart will heal again,
think double if you care,
it's only you who really care,
it's you who lives in there.
In the world of your own dreams,
in the world of your own fears.
Never give up of hoping
never be what you don't want to be.
Find your happiness in little things,
love yourself for that who you are
not for who should be.
Love yourself for that you'll never be,
the cold heart inside,
the sweet lies outside.
~ To my dear friends,
Sylvie and Tammie. ~
Love you. ♥
I feel lost,
I feel so different,
I know everyone around me,
but I don't seem to know any of the faces I see,
I don't know if it's just my hallucinations or my daydreaming,
I just don't know and yet kind of don't care,
I'm different from everyone and they judge me,
I know I'm weird, strange, and crazy,
But that's one of the great things about me,
I'm different and I'll deal with that my own self,
I'm not a typical popular girl,
but I'm not a backstabber either,
I'm a special different than they say,
I'm my own self and I love to be different,
Make fun of me cause know I don't care
I'm different and I love that because I don't
wanna be the same, I don't want to go with the flow,
I'm not like that. It's okay to different and I am.
I feel so different,
I know everyone around me,
but I don't seem to know any of the faces I see,
I don't know if it's just my hallucinations or my daydreaming,
I just don't know and yet kind of don't care,
I'm different from everyone and they judge me,
I know I'm weird, strange, and crazy,
But that's one of the great things about me,
I'm different and I'll deal with that my own self,
I'm not a typical popular girl,
but I'm not a backstabber either,
I'm a special different than they say,
I'm my own self and I love to be different,
Make fun of me cause know I don't care
I'm different and I love that because I don't
wanna be the same, I don't want to go with the flow,
I'm not like that. It's okay to different and I am.
My nostril smells awesome inside of my nose,
a bit like the bloom of a newly-picked rose.
It started this morning--I couldn't say why--
and all day it's smelled like banana cream pie.
It has the aroma of freshly-baked bread
with hot melted butter and blackberry spread,
and maybe the breeze of a warm afternoon,
that follows a thunderstorm early in June.
It smells like a pine forest, right by a lake,
and chocolate chip cookies my mom likes to bake,
like kettle corn pop-popping over a fire,
and laundry, the moment it's out of the dryer.
My nostril smells awesome, so I have a plan
to sit and enjoy it as long as I can.
Don't ask how it happened; I really can't say.
Perhaps it's my finger that's smelling this way.
a bit like the bloom of a newly-picked rose.
It started this morning--I couldn't say why--
and all day it's smelled like banana cream pie.
It has the aroma of freshly-baked bread
with hot melted butter and blackberry spread,
and maybe the breeze of a warm afternoon,
that follows a thunderstorm early in June.
It smells like a pine forest, right by a lake,
and chocolate chip cookies my mom likes to bake,
like kettle corn pop-popping over a fire,
and laundry, the moment it's out of the dryer.
My nostril smells awesome, so I have a plan
to sit and enjoy it as long as I can.
Don't ask how it happened; I really can't say.
Perhaps it's my finger that's smelling this way.
The monochrome scenery in the dead of night
A pearly-white mist to blind your sight
Immortal chains to bind your soul
Immortal chains to set your goal.
Silence has set upon your life
Bestowed upon you like a cursed knife.
You must have knowledge through and through.
The Second World is haunting you.
Let your sorrows be set in stone
Carved down to the edge, to the skin, to the bone.
Let your sorrows be put to rest
And let them guide you along your quest.
I'll dance with you inside layered light
On jewels and gemstones shining bright.
You must have knowledge of what to do.
The Second World is haunting you.
A pearly-white mist to blind your sight
Immortal chains to bind your soul
Immortal chains to set your goal.
Silence has set upon your life
Bestowed upon you like a cursed knife.
You must have knowledge through and through.
The Second World is haunting you.
Let your sorrows be set in stone
Carved down to the edge, to the skin, to the bone.
Let your sorrows be put to rest
And let them guide you along your quest.
I'll dance with you inside layered light
On jewels and gemstones shining bright.
You must have knowledge of what to do.
The Second World is haunting you.
the world can takes overload
take my last breath, before i
inhel the semtums of death, before
i shed my last tear for help, my death
is calling in the hand of my friends.
my life has fallen deeper from my hands
to my feet i'm crawing can't speak,being
on top makes you weak with a foney smile
down to the ground, one of my friends is pulling
me down till i can't even make a sound.
I need help but me and God
both know that their is
nobody around.
somethimes darkness will never
fall down........
A man is sitting with demons
Inside his head.
In this room of memories,
Only death breathes,
A man lives with gloom,
A man dies with sadness.
Inside his eyes ,
In that depth of blue terror,
Years of despair are seen,
Years of struggle are painted.
His life,
Cruel and lonely,
Was never a joy,
Bitter and sad
This man lives with demons
Of past.
I can see the pain that
Is painted on his face,
Silhouettes of past that
Play this music of terror,
I see only darkness and despair
Inside the eyes of a sad man.
This sadness is mine too,
This poem is written by the curse of
The children who will never meet happiness,
This poem is a poem of a sad man,
A man who sees nothing but greys.
My love is like to ice, and I to fire
How come it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire
But harder grows the more I entreat
Or how come it that my exeeding heat
Is not delayed by her heart-frozen cold
But that I burn much more in boiling sweat
And feel my flames augment manifold
What more miraculous thing may be told
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice
And ice, which is congealed with senseless cold
Should kindle fire with wonderful device
Such is the power of love in gentle mind
That it can alter all the course of time
How come it then that this her cold so great
Is not dissolved through my so hot desire
But harder grows the more I entreat
Or how come it that my exeeding heat
Is not delayed by her heart-frozen cold
But that I burn much more in boiling sweat
And feel my flames augment manifold
What more miraculous thing may be told
That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice
And ice, which is congealed with senseless cold
Should kindle fire with wonderful device
Such is the power of love in gentle mind
That it can alter all the course of time
The world as I see
People tell me as a child
That it is beautiful and wonderful
Yet it's scary and unjust at the same time
The innocent dying
The guilty being set free and getting money
They laugh at other's pity
Standing in their own pit of filth they created
Poor lost little child
All alone she walks
Yet she knows she's more powerful than she knows
They never do see
What destruction they cause
They call it justice
I call it lying
Poor child all alone
Yet more powerful than these liars
They will see the other side one day
This giant filthy monster
Trampling down the innocent lost souls
Yet this little one holds the key to the truth
Their own definition of truth and justice
Their own definition of mercy and love
They say justice is blind
But all the lies we hear now
Don't you ever wonder who the blind ones really are?
One day
One day the real truth will shine
Showing all the laughing liars
That the wall they built from fake
Will come crashing down
People tell me as a child
That it is beautiful and wonderful
Yet it's scary and unjust at the same time
The innocent dying
The guilty being set free and getting money
They laugh at other's pity
Standing in their own pit of filth they created
Poor lost little child
All alone she walks
Yet she knows she's more powerful than she knows
They never do see
What destruction they cause
They call it justice
I call it lying
Poor child all alone
Yet more powerful than these liars
They will see the other side one day
This giant filthy monster
Trampling down the innocent lost souls
Yet this little one holds the key to the truth
Their own definition of truth and justice
Their own definition of mercy and love
They say justice is blind
But all the lies we hear now
Don't you ever wonder who the blind ones really are?
One day
One day the real truth will shine
Showing all the laughing liars
That the wall they built from fake
Will come crashing down
Is running into disaster
Of paranoia and indestructible fear,
While your thoughts are struggling
With images of rottenness
Which is spreading as spiral evil,
Devastates every form of intelligent mind,
Now already lost in insanity of own mind.
Fear is growing inside,
Your mind is filled with worries,
While the picturesque dreams
Will corrode already exhausted brain.
And in openness of your own madness
Peace will come as confirmation,
To which you'll finally start to believe,
Although you wasted your life
On rottenness and fears
Which is spreading inside as ominous spiral.
