Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
AnnaMarie Jenema Sep 2016
How could something so trivial,
so far away,
still be painful?
How could something so long gone,
cause one's soul agony?
To fall to their knees in tears.
Why must my past haunt me?
A life never lived clouds my mind.
'What If's' float about.
I could've been different.
My life could've been that of a nightmare.
Yet I was saved.
How can they still taunt me?
Still scab a wound who should've healed.
Why will they not fall from existence,
when things have finally slowed?
How could something so trivial still remain so painful?
AnnaMarie Jenema Sep 2016
Why is it that your so misleading.
Your every action shown to be that of a hero,
but in reality your the puppet master.
Pulling others stings to recreate your plan.
You call them pawns, game pieces,
who can be used and abused to fit your schedule.
Yet they call you friend without realizing your sick intentions.
You cause flames to leapt amoung them,
to become a hero,
when all you are is a coward.
That is the life you lead:
Izaya Orihara
Inspired by Durarara
AnnaMarie Jenema Sep 2016
The night moon gleamed upon the Earth,
It had created the tides,
and smiles of young children.
But now there is no such thing,
looking over us on these moonless nights.
there remains only a slim smile,
that left over after the attack,
a warning shot.
This poem was inspired by Assassination Classroom
AnnaMarie Jenema May 2016
They say my poems are filled with sorrow,
and that is mostly true,
They say that my poems, though filled with emotions,
are too sad to ever be written,
They say these words should never hit the page,
that sorrow should not be shown through poetry,
and that these feelings that pain us to show anywhere else;
should never be shown in any form,
She dislikes my work,
wishing I would write happy poems,
ones that do not free me from my worst fears,
ones that do not cry for me the tears I cannot otherwise spill.
They save me from drowning,
offering a life raft on a merciless wave,
but they say they would prefer to see me drown,
in a storm of my emotions.
Where poetry will save my soul.
AnnaMarie Jenema May 2016
I watch a love blossom from behind this pane.
I see the two figures meet for the first time.
It's only through a couple of typed conversations,
leading the girl to fall in love with his words.
Through my standing point I see her phone number across the screen,
wondering what she got herself into.
He replies,
and everyday it's the same.
She let the people she loves,
the other figures that walk around this house,
fall from her life.
They desperately try to be apart of her life,
so she locks her room door.
They knock,
ceaselessly trying to touch her heart.
She holds her hand over her ears,
texting with the other.
Barely making out the texts from my window view I see things no girl would want to hear nor say.
He hurts her emotionally and threatens her physically,
and she just wishes to disappear.
Finally light enters her room as I lift an arm to readjust myself to it.
She let's them in,
telling them to block him from her life.
Her sister sighs,
her worries quenched,
her bent over mom hugs her to try to fill her with warmth and love.
...
A couple of years pass and still I watch,
not much happening,
but the girl now falls away from her friends and family once more.
She has a new texting friend,
One her mother and sister adore,
rather she's hiding from shadows and shaking in her shoes.
Her sister worries,
but goes untold,
as the girl whispers to her mothers ear, "Do you see them too?"
Time goes on and her sister worries more.
Drawings are scribbled of creatures that would only exist in nightmares,
But they exist for the girl.
Years ago she could see them.
Her family believing it only a brilliant imagination.
But, no.
That's not so.
Her new love worries countess times until he pleads with her to tell her family.
I watch through my glass boundary,
a spectator who has been shown quite a tragedy,
The sister leaves,
off on a school trip,
than the girl is missing for a time,
The sister and mother leave the house once a week,
they're gone for a couple of days at a time.
two weeks pass and finally the girl returns home.
I try to listen through this screen,
hearing "psychiatry Hospital"
At night the girl takes prescribed pills,
they scare away her visions.
She goes to school - but comes back early
shaking and tired,
but at night,
not a single dream will come as she stares at the wall.
She does not smile,
and will not speak to friends she used to enjoy the company of.
But I have little I can do to become a performer in this play.
I am merely a spectator, a friendly everyday window watcher.
Or am I?

Sincerely
                      The sister
My little sister is going through a ton of stuff right now, and I'm not able to say details, but this is something I really wanted to share that doesn't quite tell too much.
AnnaMarie Jenema May 2016
This force that impacts our daily lives,
now awakens to keep me stirring.
It causes the brain extra aggravation,
and the mind a restless night.

We clash,
creating the rub of two minds,
to never fully comprehend the other.
Our mind's gears pulling in different directions,
the speed set at different intervals.

If friction tears us apart,
than why must we get along,
what glue could hold us tight,
keeping this crumbling friendship alive?

That of family bonds,
Tis only an obligation!
What must I do so that they are not disappointed in me?
How can we mend this shattering trust and love?
I fight a lot with my mom. I really love her, but our fights get really in tense, to the point she threatens to run away, or says she'd be glad when I finally leave. I love her, and her words really hurt me.
AnnaMarie Jenema May 2016
Eyes watching the wall,
unable to close.
A tangible knot of loose ends,
awake in the mind.

Recall those times,
when that knot wishes to be undone,
but instead is pulled further,
weighing on the mind.

Time ellipses,
More thinking to be done,
so much stress built up,
in one sleepless night.
Next page