I write, because it gets things out. I write because i want to leave something of myself behind when im gone. I write because everything else in my life is mundane and it bores me to tears. I write because i dont want to be mediocre. I post poems because i want to know if im any good. more »
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Amy Carmichael Poems
I know your secret. You told me yourself. And those grades you attribute, to me and my help.
My Favorite Places
I miss the cinema’s comfortable sofas At the entrance and outside the screen rooms. I miss sitting on them, curled into you, ‘cause We were kids and had nowhere else to go.
This night is a lie ‘cause im just a pretty girl beside you I kiss you like that and you stiffen like you know That I don’t ever want to let you go So I pull away quick and make amends
I wish I didn’t love him so much I wish I had him here to touch I wish he wanted me a bit more Instead of thinking im just some whore
We sat and watched as couples floated by Knew as we sat there that their love would die I didn’t think you could just walk away,
The Price Of These Words
They say to write more, that this is my talent, But they don’t know of these well-constructed lies, Or how I sit at night, alone, cold and silent. She can’t understand the price, no matter how she tries.
I'm burning all my bridges and I'm running out of time If I'd had just one more minute I could have somehow made you mine, But as it is, im broken and im falling to the ground, Im weightless, empty, and nothing I say makes a sound.
A Million of One Boy
I’ll love you because I know you’ll never love me too, But then my charm works against me and I lose my chance to be blue As you hold me tight and kiss me oh so sweetly And my inner masochist rebels and disposes of you oh so neatly.
BOY I wanna say I love you and mean it I wanna kiss you and never want to stop I wanna press you up against that wall one more time Before I have to run on home
The Price Of Popularity
No, no, no my dear you don’t understand He wants me bad and he offers his hand He wants to look after me and take away my pain But im a cynic and I see what he will gain.
I want you to say something Spark a conversation. Inspire me Be my muse. Your lips on mine-the feeling I translate.
Secret love, she’s with someone else She shares my name and you share her love. Does she see his face when you kiss her do you suppose?
Maybe I love someone, and maybe I don’t Maybe il tell him so, and maybe I wont. Maybe im heartbroken, and he doesn’t see That I need to leave him if il ever be free.
The formation of a star
Im bored I wont live like this I hate him more than I know He tries so hard and all he gets is my scorn
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
I know your secret.
You told me yourself.
And those grades you attribute, to me and my help.
You work all the time, you have commitments to list,
Your lack of time for me leave me a little pissed.
I've dug you out, accepted your flaws,
Now i need YOUR help, help without that pause!
Do you find me a burden? that you hesitate so?
Well i don't need you! i have drink and Blow.
So i dig myself in and blame everyone else
And you won't understand why I do this to myself
See, i can't bear the way everyone's let me down,
Sometimes, beside you, I scream ...