Welcome to Gaia! ::

He paused, not breathing in the venomous air. Sol opened his dark green eyes, watching the pale, skeleton-like figures, once associated with him, fall to the ground. Inhaling the toxin visibly floating in the air.
"Why now? Why must we fall now? Only to have our bodies burned in the crematoria."
Sol's thoughts began to become blurred by his lack of oxygen.
"Either die of suffacation or poison, cruel Nazis..."

Sol's malnutured body fell to the floor. As a body reaction he gasped for air. Sucking in the venom that floated. His lungs were on fire. A yellow veil fell over his face as he felt as every bone in his body broke, and every organ burned.

Suddenly, the pain and suffering stopped. It was all over. Peace.

(Author's note: This is based off the gas chambers the Nazi's used to kill millions of people in World War II. Rest in peace all those who suffered, were killed then burned by the ideas of the Crazed Hitler and his minions.
I have nothing against the German people though, just the Nazi's that knew what they were doing. {not majority of Hitler Youth} Oh yea, one more thing, my favorite writing subject is WWII stories.)

(Author's note: I don't know if this is going to be the whole poem. I might add some. But this poem is another personal one. I tend to write poetry when I'm stressed and unhappy. So, there you go. My inspiration: stress, and complaining friends.)

Life

Life has a terrible way of making you hurt
Take my father away
Take my grandfather away
Why oh why does life do this?

Life takes and takes
Take away my pet
Take away my cheeriness
Why oh why does life do this?

But with all those thoughts of taking
I think, what has life to give?
Life has given me friends
And life has given me a family

Not only that, but much more
A house, clothes, and food
And as I thought
It's time to give back

I give what I can
I give hungry people food
And I give cold people warmth
And I give me friends and family happiness

So I guess,
Life gives, for us to take
And We give, for life to take


Writer's Block

I seem to have Writer's block
I stare at my paper, then at the clock

Not a thought in my head
Except for thinking time for bed

I looked at the clock again
Then reached for a pen

And I just sat there
In my chair

Shifting this way and that
Something suddenly touched my leg oh, it's the cat

So I was chewing on my nails
And drinking coffee by the pails

When I finally got it, and took the chalk
And wrote about writer's block

Hold Me Tight

Hold me tight
Don't let me go
Hold me close
Don't let it happen
Don't let them touch me
Please help
Curl me up
Hide me
Just Help

(Author's Note: While searching my old file from my old computer, I found some old poetry that I wrote. I like the second one in a childish way.
The first one is the pro's and con's of life, then the second one was when I had writer's block and is one of my first poems. (I was a little on then.) The third one is wanting protection.)