Attempts to quell
sorrow's raging drake,
We met again hoping peace would follow,
But pain crept in still whilst you're awake,
Leaving you once again agonizingly hollow,
With slumber eyes I then wake to see,
My lover reject and doubting me,
However I know with sorrow you do not agree,
And somewhere in there you wish to be free,
Of suffering's grip that's tight on your heart,
I want to help rid you of this pain,
But hopeless once more I know not where to start,
Right now I can but remind you again,
That I love you and hoping it pierces that heart,
Times may come of these rancid pains,
But I beg you beloved not to buckle and fall apart,
For if you don't fight sorrow's rancid rain,
And don't push it all away with an iron guard,
We'll find ourselves in tears, hate and pain,
Where we'll have to restart,
Taking repeated trips down memory lane,
Hearing battles of pain and peace's bards,
Go head to head forever in vain,
So I ask you again my lover so true,
Don't give up, don't give in til our time is due,
Fight that pain fight rain when you're feeling blue,
And remember nothing but these words for you,
What is it you ask?Nothing old yet not new,
These three words that is 'I Love You'.

Twenty six alphabets swirling around
but this soul only has twenty four hours to wander.
Thousands of words
and there is only one of me,
deciding which word should sit next
to the other stranger.
So that it makes sense
to give the whole stanza a reason.
To let it sing a melody
but it just sits there
staring blandly at endless dreamers,
wondering if they would understand
the reason why these words
were stringed next to one another.
Or if they would give up
thinking the poet must have been
some clever mastermind
and the whole art piece needs to
be re-examined word by word.
Decoding each line
that unveils itself and
gives a whole new meaning
of it's existence.
Then again, what if I told you
As you read this
That there is no reason
To my creation.
There is no rhyme or rhythm
No rules that can set these words on fire.

What if I told you, I exist for no reason?
I am not governed by an external force
That is in need to tell a story
Or deprived of a reason to live
Or just to breathe.
Just like how the falling autumn leaves
Falls from its old roots-
Silently.
Without needing a reason to fall
Without anyone telling - its time is over.

Surely words were created for a reason,
To converse with impalpable creatures,
But words didn't ask for it
It didn't plead to have a reason for its survival
In the lonely throats of the dead.
But the universe came together
And did it anyway.

So today, the warrior words formed together,
In a battle that was long forgotten,
In silence, when it was once thrown into every page,
Forced into the mouths of the filth
And sometimes the lovers
To create romance and never endings.

Today, the words stand here tall
Within the screens and papers
In bold it speaks-
That it holds no reason,
It does not take the blame for the hurting
Nor for the joy of the fresh bonfire
in cold winter.

It stands tall for its own victory-
In its own reality.
For no reason or rhyme,
For it was only meant for those
Built with sovereignty,
Who knew words were only meant to be free.
It belonged to nobody, nor will it ever.
And with no reason,
All the words in the world,
Cease to end right here.

Why do I care so much about my physical appearance?
You think it's because I actually give the slightest **** about what you think of me?
Ha. No offense but I couldn't care less what other people think of me. I mean this in the nicest way possible but if you don't like me, ***** your opinion. You're beautiful and you don't have to think I am.
You think I would act like I was thrown into a ceiling fan as a child the way I do if I cared what people thought of me?
No. By all means, please. Feel free to find me ugly!
Write poetry about it!
Etch it into bathroom stall doors! Put up posters for all I care!
I don't care about BEING beautiful!
I DO care about feeling beautiful though.
Feeling like I'm not hideous.
Because it HURTS to feel that way.
Don't you dare comment about my inability to leave the house without lipstick on unless you have BEEN me for a day and felt this pain of inadequacy.
Please.
I really don't care if I am pretty.
I just want to feel like it.

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Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my work and really anything else you have to say!

The little lady will do anything for you.
Kiss her hand,
Watch her melt at your every word.

You know how desperate she is for your acceptance.
Act like a gentleman,
Your intentions are anything but.

Royalty faces no consequences, after all.

.There is nothing else left to say to you.
I have said it all.
Poetry is emotions made out of words.
And I only have these last few unpretty words left for you
They are simply put, but I mean them with every ounce of my soul.

You're not sorry
I'm not sorry
You hate me
I hate you
You hurt me
And those I loved
So I sure as hell
Hope I hurt you.
Just stay away now.
You've done enough damage
To last a lifetime
But I'm stronger than you
So I won't let it.

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Comment! I love to read interpretations or any thoughts on my work! :)

Right now you could turn around
and walk away
you could save yourself so much of that
You could save yourself the pain
and the anger
and the resentment
and the screaming
and the lonely cold nights
of regrets
and aching sadness
missing what you had
You could save yourself the happy days
before it falls apart
You could save yourself from an experience
that strengthens you even if it turns out for the worse
the days you finally smile again
after being so isolated for so long
You could save yourself the waking up grinning
and the nights that feel like they last a beautiful forever
and the lovely memories that haunt you
save yourself the fear of risking that brokenness
and all that possible pure joy
Or...

Please repost if you are going to act on that OR... in your life
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Grandpa brought me a dolly
With golden curls on her head
Dolly’s eyes so blue
Her cheeks a rosy red
I left her on my shelf
But when I woke up at 1
She stood near my toy shelf
Near a plastic gun
Then I closed my eyes again
But I woke up at 2
And she was halfway to by bed
So I ignored her not knowing what else to do
Then she was at my dollhouse
When I woke up at 3
Her eyes were dark and demonic
Staring right at me
I swear I saw her blink
When I woke up at 4
And saw my dolly standing
Beside my closet door
When I woke up at five
She was at the foot of my bed
But I didn’t get to sleep again
Because I was dead.

Happy Halloween!!
Please repost if you love Halloween!
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my poetry! Especially long ones! Or if you have a creepy doll, or Halloween or ghost story! :)