Life.

What lies around the corner
never seems to come
the distance increases
becomming further away,
like a horse running in circles
going nowhere.

I'd go anywhere.
to get out of this hell.
To end the pain,
would be the greatest gift anyone could give me.
But no one seems to understand,
how I feel,
about life,
love.
everything.

Why don't they understand?
Am I just that strange?
Stupid? Insane?
Why must I suffer, when everyone else
looks as if they are having the time
of their lives.

The clover.

Different, like a clover
with four leaves.
not three, as all the others
usually have.

Different, yet the same.
Blended in like a
person in a crowd.

I am that clover
different, yet the same
in so many ways

Treated differently
the "lucky" find
people search for
clovers all day
while I'm here
still searching for
myself.

Will I find me?
Will You search for me?

I am the clover; where are the eyes?

This Girl.

The girl
withered in soul
body, spirit.
Loved by
no one, not even
herself.
She has thoughts
about death, murder,
and suicide. Maybe
she is crazy, Maybe she
is the only sane person
on earth.
Will we be able to tell?
She tells herself that she is okay
her emotional scars
tell otherwise.
Would looking in her room help?
How would that help anyone?
Will she survive
in this hell
that we all call home?

I guess we will wait to find out.

Alone

No one to love
no one to hold
does it matter anymore?

Does anyone care?
Does anyone see?
all this pain is building
up. Inside of me.
ready to explode. to errupt.

like a volcano.
A little warning, but is it enough?
for you to stop it?
for you to be there?

I need friends
I need a hug.
One of those hugs
when you can just feel
that someone cares.

Does someone care?

I guess I'll never know.

Bitter Blades

The razor cuts, digs
deep into the flesh
to let the blood drip,
drip down the arm.
erasing the pain
or does the pain just hide?

Hide for a while, but it
always will come back.
the razor is at it again
wont somebody stop it?
before it's too late...

The scars are hidden
the pain is still there
It will never fully dissappear...
or will it?
Can it?
Should it be that easy?

A Lonely Day

A lonely day
a walk in the park
no one around
to see. to hear.

A lonely day
with the kids at school
everyone around
to ignore.

A lonely day
a day in my bed
with racing thoughts
and to no one I share

A lonely day
alone in a crowd
Impossible? maybe
but not for me.

Those lonely days
happen more than not
Somebody talk to me.
And show me that I'm not alone

I am alone

Why does this happen?
Am I just wrong?
I hate being ignored.
Left, to die, like an abandoned puppy.

I thought I was
a nice, caring friend.
But I guess I'm not.
I should just give up.

On friends, on love.
Hell, why not life?
Yes, I give people hugs.
But will I ever receive one?

No, because I am invisible.
I don't exist. Not to anyone anymore.
I should just dissappear.
Like a balloon into the clouds.

It would be for the best.
No one cares anymore.
I am alone...

A Dreamer's Nightmare

A Dreamer’s Nightmare

A tale of a dream that must be told,

A dream of a child, that was barely thirteen years old.

A tornado was coming, with no time to spare.

No time to grab anything, no time to despair.

I was at home, alone with my flashlight.

As I settled in my closet on that dark, scary night.

The wind picked up, at a miserable pace.

I could feel the ground trembling, I was ready to brace.

But not ready for what was about to come,

No one would be ready, except the wisest some.

I heard windows crash, and cars crashing,

The yells of helpless people, and items smashing.

When it all stopped, not a moment too soon.

Until it arose again, like the tide by the moon.

This time more violent, more deadly to me,

If only I could see, what was about to be.

My closet door came open, to the outside air,

And the wind was picking up, streaming through my hair.

And something happened, the wind became strong,

And I was taken into the air, like the lyrics of a song.

The wind became faster, objects flying about,

When I realized what was happening and began to scream and shout.

But no one could hear me, or feel my heart race.

Then I was thrown into a window, glass hitting my face.

The glass gave a cut, not very deep,

But it was still enough blood, to give someone the creeps.

And then it again stopped, but this time for good.

No one could see me, and no one ever would.

And then I awoke, from a short nights sleep,

Breathing hard, panting, like a dog chasing sheep.

And I walked to my mirror, and to my surprise,

I had a small wound, between my two eyes.

I reassured myself that it was only a dream,

And no matter how real it may seem,

It was only a dream… or was it?

Visions

I have these visions.
sitting through the day.
of a gunshot, blood, a cadaver that lay.
That cadaver is me. I see myself dead.
at this day in time, a gun to my head.
My body lays, for the funeral march.
peaple are happy, people cheer.
I guess most are glad, that I'm no longer here.
If this truely happens, and I should be dead.
People willbe cheering and laughing,
'till their faces turn red.

What?

What goes through your mind
when you're going to die?
are you tensed? relaxed?
do you cry?


What goes through your mind
when you're forced to live
through pain, suffering, and hell?


What does it feel like to be happy?
Really happy.
not just a laugh at a joke.


What doe you care about most?
In life? In dreams?
In everything.

What. What. What?