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Tyler Tillett Poems
Living Dead Girl
I called her. She didn't answer. Something is wrong. I know it, I can feel it. Her light is on; it is bright, very bright. I opened the door. I feel a cold draft coming at me.
He promised me his world. He promised that I was everything. He promised his love He promised his life.
I Need a Smoke.
In my hand is a bloody pare of scissors. My wrists are bleeding. The
I feel like hell. I don’t know if you love me any more. I don’t want you to go. You cheated but I still love you.
Is It You?
Is it you? My heart is trembling, like a rock slide. I miss you, I want you to come back.. to me...not any one else. I want to feel your fur, I want to put my fingers threw your long black mane. I miss you. I want you back.
How I miss You
I know you care, I know that you are there, I care about you, I just wish that I could see you, hold you and feel the touch of your lips against mine. I love you! I cant stop thinking about you. I feel like I am obsessed with you. Only if you weren't careless, you would be standing here with me.You decide your fate; be with me and live with me forever, or die without a memory of those who you loved and hated. Don't play with fate, don't look for love, be young and free, because that is what you will only get; is the freedom. Why did you have to go? Our love was so young, how I miss the touch of your lip; so soft, moist, and smooth, they are like there almost perfect, but not. How I wish I could kiss them again. I miss how your body was so fine, muscular, and smooth like a baby's bottom. How I miss it so.
Sangre I am bleeding I need out. I need your help. Please get me out.. I don’t want to bleed anymore. I don’t want to be desperate. Please help me. Your here right now. Please help me. I need out of this. I don’t want to hurt any one any more. I don’t want to cry out for your blood anymore. I am done bleeding out for people that I hurt, that I killed. Please help me. I am done. I promise I won’t hurt you. I am hungry but I don’t want your blood. Please help me get out of this. I don't want this life anymore. Please I am begging you to help me. The more people I kill the more blood I want. I cant take it anymore. There faces so white, like they have seen a ghost. I am not a ghost. I just want to be human again. I want to love, live and laugh again like I used to when I was young. To be free is all I ask. I wouldn't ask for anything more. I am sick of drinking blood and hurting others. Seeing the look on the face of a human. The terror in there eyes. I just want to be out of this mess.
To Katja, mama can i fly? mama can i fly? fly into the unknown..where no one can find me even on their tippy toes. mama can i fly? to meet that someone watching me. to meet my only angel. mama can i? i just wanna spread my wings and fly. no more pain no more cries i don't want to die but mama can i once? spread my wings and fly.
To my grandma Joann Lyon, I put myself in her position. 1936-2008 I feel like to die, I don’t know why. I sense it.
Roses are red, violet's are dead.
Oh how I love thee
Oh, how my heart goes out to thee, with doves fly up so high, wings expand so, ho so must this heart love thee? Once this does so, butterflies flutter threw out this body. See her, see her, how I love to crest thee soft warm cheek. With wild, wild flowers, below her soft white feet. How my heart longer for thee. Oh who her sweet, sweet smile is, how I long to kiss those sweet lips of thee, How her darken long hair blows threw the wind. Oh her beautiful, sweet scent like cheery blossoms., so sweet, and soft. Oh how my heart longer for thee.
He pokes her, she pokes him back she tickles him, He tickles her back He tickles her better, she laughs really, really hard. She bites him really, really hard. He blinks then screams, and then writhes in pain. She kisses his neck really slowly where she bit him at. They love one another.
I Wish Time Would Stop.
Left to right
Right to left which way shall I go just to make the pain go away the feel of the bleeding that I shall never feel,
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Living Dead Girl
I called her. She didn't answer.
Something is wrong. I know it, I can feel it.
Her light is on; it is bright, very bright. I opened the door.
I feel a cold draft coming at me.
It feels like 10 degrees. I see her zoning out. She has a smile on her face. I wonder why. The window is wide open, there is snow on the ground. I saw terror in her eyes. I start to smell blood. Maybe I could have smelt blood when I came in to her room but was to distracted on looking for her.
I see the cats liking her wrist. I wonder why. I see blood on the floor, in a puddle next to her.
Am I too ...