My poetry

March 7, 2008, 8:35 PM

This one I wrote not evne 3 days ago:
You're letting him be the akward one,
You're letting him be alone in a crowded place,
You're letting him feel betrayed and done,
You're letting tears run down his face,
The ability to feel alive,
Has left his soul alone,
It can no longer thrive,
And sings in a sad, sad tone,
Its eyes sore and red,
From the crying and tears,
It continues to cry and wants to be dead,
Laying in a wake of fears,
It loved the life it can no longer feel,
Standing alone in the crowded place,
It fears it will never heal,
It laves not a single trace,
Because it is not real.

This oen I'm nto sure how long ago I wrote it, but I love it. It's my favorite one:
You watch as I fall behind,
You stare as I can't be found,
Why should I be kind,
You didn't make a sound,
I'm lost in the dark,
I can't find my way,
Your right on mark,
But I'm not there today,
You walk a mile ahead,
I fall behind once more,
You don't know I'm dead,
As I fall to the floor,
The air to thick to breath,
My energy drained from inside,
What am I to believe,
As I run and hide,
I can feel the icy grip,
Of Deaths' hand on my shoulder,
The long scyths tip,
Seems friendly as I grow older,
Yet the candle still burns,
Though small and weak,
The grim scyth turns,
And looks to take a peak,
Though out of reach,
The icy arm extends,
My barriers a breach,
They give way and bend,
My life feels drained,
As I'm cold and alone,
My heart is trained,
To be cold as deaths bone,
I watch from the fog,
As you search in vain,
I'm stuck in this bog,
And reach out in pain,
I scream for your touch,
I find all sound at bay,
You find nothing much,
Then wander away,
The cold icy snow of winter,
Dark clouds float above,
The sole barefoot hunter,
On a branch a small white dove,
The snowy ice under cold feet,
Cracks and splinters underneath,
The blue skin and loss of heat,
The dove holds a wreath,
Sudden panick and loss of breath,
Paralyzed figure and mind,
The cold icy grip of death...
The thought of being left behind,
Sudden silence and peace,
The soul is set free,
The soul in peace,
The family plants a tree,
One to remember and grow,
The one soul lost and forgotten,
Suddenly remembered like a hard blow,
To the center of the rotten,
The ones who let it wither,
The ones who let it fade,
They remember together,
How they had made,
A wayward soul left alone,
Forgotten, lost, and left to die,
Now peacefully left on its own,
The sad ones no longer may try,
To save the lost souls cry,
Of pain and misery never heard.