The cover of Lala Magazine 5

Hey Mom,
It's been a while
Since you sat next to me,
Since I saw you smile
I miss you Mom
I wish you were here
Giving me kisses
Holding me near
I can still see you Mom,
the laughing happy you
Not the ill broken women
Who broke my heart in two
I'll always remember Mom,
You taught me well
To do good things,
And with Honesty tell
I'm telling you Mom
Losing you killed me
Laying a rose on your casket
Trying hard to be
Strong.
That's what you were Mom,
Strong.
In everything you said
In everything you did
So now I'll be just that
Strong like a mother, not like a kid


I wrote this in honor of any child who has ever lost a parent.

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Tick, tick, tick
That sound, constant in my head,
A sound that haunts every mind,
A sound that brings fear,
A clock,
Ticking the seconds of your life away,
Making life shorter and shorter with every tick,
Drawing death nearer and nearer,
But you should not live in fear,
For life is too short for such a thing,
Some people waste these precious seconds,
Others treasure them, making sure that no tick is wasted,
The clock ticks on,
But as this sound is registered,
What do you do?
Tick, tick, tick
Three more seconds, gone, like that,
Did you use them well?
Live life,
For life is too short to spend these seconds in hell.

His Melody
To quiet the tears
She sings him to sleep
When the morning has dawned
He can’t be roused from a rest so deep

She sings him to sleep
Night after night
And when he does not awaken
Her will to go on grows slight

She sits and waits while he’s away
She remembers his laugh and smile
Oh what a joy to see his joy
She lifts up a prayer “May I see him in a short while?”

She sits at the window and waits
The sun sets slowly behind the hill
The others say hello but she doesn’t hear
She is waiting to make the tears still

The time has come she cannot wait
She sets out to see her boy
To stop the tears
To bring him joy

But the tears she stills are not his
They fall from her eyes
She sings his lullaby again tonight
As she kisses the stone and her son good bye

Dear record of my misfortune I was correct. Today I walked into class and saw a huge pile of letters on my desk. When I opened them I realized that it was hate mail. It was so stupid, people were getting angry at me for what I did to Jessica when it was her fault! They were saying things like : Die Emo bitch die, bitchy whore. That last comment doesn't even apply to me! I haven't even had my first kiss and they are saying this stuff to me! There was one letter that was bot mean even though I don't know who sent it. Inside it said roses are red violets are blue I don't now why they hurt you, if you want I'll tell them to can it, all because I love you Janet. I don't know who wrote you love poem rhyme thing but I love you too!

Is It True You Lie?
Is It True You Hate Me?
Is It True You Want Him?
Is It True You're My Best Friend?
Is It True You Enjoy Hurting Me?
Is It True You Like Me Crying?
Is It True You Talk Behind My Back?
Is It True You Tell People Our Bussiness?
Is It True I Hurt You?
Is It True You Back Stabbed Me?
Is It True You Let Me Believe The Lies?
Is It True You Let Me Call You My True Bestfriend When You Weren't?
Is It True.....?

This is A Poem Hope Yuh Enjoy It Btw Tell Me What Yuh Think And This Is Just About Me Gettin Hurt After Being Stupid Enough To Believe Her Lies She Wasnt A True Bestfriend

Her eyes were fire red,
as if they were
lit from anger.

I dont understand
why you are
mad at me.

Why you shoot
those harsh words
at me.

Aimed like bullets,
piercing my soul.
And It cant heal.

I never can dodge them.
The words hit me,
and I fall back.

My friends ask me:
"What's wrong?"
"Can I help?"

But they cant help.
Because I dont understand,
why you are mad.

Why do you have to do
what you do to me?
Why does it give you
joy to harm me?
Why?
Why are people bullies?
Why dont my friends take action?
Why cant you tell me WHY?

Streetlamps, houses, gates, remotes, books, CDs and televisions. Brothers. Pairs. Each has a twin. In this chaotic place of materials the world has come to be, everything has a brother. But brothers are family. And family is connected somehow; if not by blood, then by what?

Energy.

Look hard. At everything that has a brother. A line of energy casts a connection between the two. The energy, with its harsh glares and cold looks creates the strongest and most complex bonds. Strong because of their brotherhood. Complex because of its invisibility. For there is power in invisibility. Cold, cruel power. The power to be a persecutor with no chance of being a victim. The power to twist and squeeze but not feel the wrenching pain of your twists.

Now, you ask, what is left? Cruel, invisible energy. For a cruel, invisible world.







This is my first time writing in stream of consciousness. I know it's short but don't judge me too harshly.