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Better Than a Dream 02/11/04:
[Was dedicated to a man who cheated on me... may his soul rest in hell.]
staring out my window, I see the moonlit sky,
upon it two dancers walk, arm in arm.
slowly they begin their dance;
gracefully moving amoung the stars.
light creeps across the horizon...
the two dancers embrace with each other,
gazing into their starry eyes, a blossoming dream.
the horizons light grows as the dancers gently kiss,
the light submerges the stars, the dancers dissapear.
glancing downwards there I see..
you standing there with a single baby rose.
the most hansom thing placed on the earth.
standing there before me I see,
my best friend,
my lover,
eternally together forever,
for my love has no end.

You list your faults
afraid I will run away
and hide
But I'm more afraid
that if I list my own
you would be the one to run
Leaving me alone
in the way i've been left before
I want to live in the moment,
but I hold back.
I only give you part of me.
There's still that part of me
who can't surrendor
to the love you shower.
I feel almost selfish that I hold back.
I feel almost greedy
how I expect you dish me pain.
I live with this whithered black hole of a heart.
It's being like I am,
Feeling what I feel,
Knowing what I think
that scares me the most.
My worst feal is of being left alone,
continuing to live,
to exist,
in this way will kill me.
I don't want to live
if my life will be like this.
You plead for me to stop
talking like this.
But it pours forth in a torrent.
I feel and hear the pain and hurt
that resounbd in your words.
This guilt that I feel keeps me up at night.
Haunted by the ghostly emotions
that we've felt.
Drowning in my words
that I brutally pushed forth
across the platinum tabletop.
Coming to me in the hours of the morn,
I cry.
I cry these steel tears
That I couldn't hold back any longer.
The burning of the feelings
tears as my soul.
About to snap,
I throw my arms open and plead with the wind
to carry me away.
Carry me away to a place where I can't feel like this.
Where I can't hear this.
Where you won't be hurt by my past.

how come people only like my angsty poems? my happy ones never turn out good. lol. And.....<_< >_> I wrote this last night due to a conversation i was having with Fuzz and my Greggeh

War Sick

I'm sick of fighting.
My hair smells of black powder.
My trigger finger hurts.
When I close my eyes I hear gun shots.
I'm sick of fighting.
I could run.
I could run, just let my legs carry me as far as they can go.
I could walk to a valley of peace.
I could find a beach and rest.
I'm sick of war.
I could run!
But I can't.
When the freighter hit shoar and I was dumped here to fight.
I did'nt know if there was a god or not.
But from endless battles.
And not showing any cowardness.
I know there is a god.
And I know I can't run.
I hate war.
But I also hate being a coward.
Here these words.
"Let freedom ring"

I'm feeling an angsty poem of my own coming on... :: huggles teh Skad:: you keep dissapearing!

I have a lot of anger poems, but they are mostly not PG-13.... for they are very gorey... I'll post some more..

Little toy Soldier.

Little tin soldier shiny and new.
Wind him up and watch him go.
Given to a boy on yon christmas day.
A smiles is born that time that day.
But sadley the father that gave the boy this toy is off fighting.
The boy keeps his soldier close at all times.
Keeping memories of his father dearest in mind.
His mother died a long time ago.
He stays with an aunt while his father is gone.
A year passes quickley and the father does'nt come home.
The little boy worries, the tin soldier is held closer.
Many years pass the boy worries more each year.
Finally after 5 years, a letter is in the mail.
The boy now 14, opens the envelope.
He reads to find sad news for...
his father lie dead.
A grave cannot be dug for he was lost at sea.
A heart is torn to shreds that day.
The soldier is thrown into a trunk of bad memories and sealed away.
5 years pass.
The boy is now a man.
The war continues still and the boy now must fight.
In the house he played with that dear toy in.
There is only broken bricks and a torn up roof.
He trudges through the reckage where the enemy was slain.
And stumbles upons a small pile of ash.
A small glimmer of metal and a winding pin.
The man picks up a small toy.
Dull and charred and dented in places.
A wind up soldier with a slightlie scratched up face.
He winds it up and sets it down.
The little soldier marches happily.
A smile is cracked and a tear is shed from the man.
His heart is pacthed as he finds happiness again.