As good as it will be
for you to hold me
As much as I want
you to be the truth
You aren't the one.
As much as I want
my search to be over
As long as I've waited
for him to come,
you aren't the one.
Here are some crappy, unfinished poems for your pleasure.
I'm so lost
lost..lost...
You hear that echo?
Its the emptiness of this brain.
Uh oh.
Here it comes again,
all this stress I build on,
and worry I feed on,
that keeps me feeling alive
just, until I break down.
I'm a pretty broken person. I wonder when I will be fixed.
Cold is the weather
and cold is my heart.
Too much of one thing
and my brain falls apart.
Always overwhelming,
this feeling that overcomes me.
This is about my beautiful Momma.
You take blame upon yourself
Even when it has nothing to do
with you at all.
You bring it upon yourself
to catch everyone around you
when they fall,
Even when you can't keep yourself
going on or standing tall.
Why is it that Mom's are so awesome, yet most people can't write well on the subject? You'd think it would be easy!
There is something
I've dreamed of
since childhood dolls
Through Jr High crushes
to High School halls.
Red cheek flushes
Slight hand brushes
And gentle lip touches.
I want you intimately,
To hold you close to me
To know you thoroughly
To love you with all of me.
Love will be mine
someday.
Won't it?
When I feel it
one day,
Will I know it?
This mind
keeps a bottle of pills
in the back
just in case
I get tired of the race.
So, let me sit.
Let me just think.
I'll just lay here
And make a list
of all my faults,
the crimes,
of this broken body.
I'm no one special,
invisible really.
I could lie in bed
and do nothing,
full of apathy
for the world,
and me.
So let me sit.
Let me just pity
This sad thing.
