maybe
i am just
that one girl
no one seems
to care for
to love
to embrace
to do anything with
but
i dont think
they realize
that i’ve got
feelings as well,
and maybe
just maybe
I've got someone
who needs me to live
who needs me to be there
and take care of them.

m.g.

2 am is for the poets who
can't sleep because their
minds are alive with words
for someone who's not there

for the alcohlics drinking
themselves into amnesia to
forget someone who left

2 am is not for the lovers
asleep in each other's arm

it is for the lonely.
the ones who are in love
with the loved
but are the one's
who are not loved
in return.

she hides behind a layer of skin
covers her like a mask
doesn't want to let any one in
things can't go to fast
she was the girl who often sinned
just another outcast
hiding behind that layer of skin
that covered her like a mask

Alone
With my thoughts
In the dark
Of the night

Moonless
Starless
Dreams now take flight

I dream of tomorrow
And of days long since past
I sit in the dark
Alone here at last

I once wanted peace
And quiet within
Now I know loneliness
And quiet within

I want sunlight
And warmth from another
Chaos and laughter
I want my true lover

Never cry in your bedroom.
Because a place of comfort
Should never contain sadness.

I live a poet’s life in an anonymous plane
Unseen by those considered normal,
Unheard by those deemed sane.
The only proof of my existence
Dangerous knives of poetry in lines on paper
An alias moves the pen in my hand
That scribbles stinging, bitter words
About love, death and the atrocities of man

I am anonymous
Even my name is not my own
My thoughts are scrawled wickedly with intent on paper
For the masses to observe
At a distance my carnivorous demanding audience must remain
From physical contact with these dull creatures
I gladly refrain
Retreating behind a mask of stone
Beneath it a face that bears lines of great sadness
A frozen sculpture of a heart for many years entombed

So it is and shall always be
Truly my words are all you will ever see
Closing off the door to reality
With the stroke of a pen
To my invisible life I hastily return
I am anonymous

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby

I don't have much to say;
      there's not much I want to do.
I want to be
alone.
Not for the sake of
my sanity,
no,
but for the sake of
feeling whole.

I've never done well,
understanding things
like everyone else does.
my mind keeps turning gears
over and over
and over again.

At least when I'm
alone,
the confusion,
the stress,
the anxiety.
It all seems to
         go away;
I don't have to focus
on anything.
         And that puts me at ease.