Crona's PoemHow do I learn to dealCrona's Poem5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
With things I've never experienced?
What if they're scary?
Can I curl up in my corner?
Can I block out these strange sensations?
What if these new things are fun?
No. They won't be.
They never are.
Am I happy now, with things the way they are?
I don't know.
Am I sad at all?
I don't know.
How about angry?
I don't know.
Am I anything at all?
There's nothing here to help me
The line that let me hide away is gone
What do I do?
If I curl up in my corner, could I...
Hide away from the world
And everything that makes me uneasy?
Will I be forced to handle something I can't deal with?
I don't know.
So many questions
Not one answer.
Why am I who-and what- I am?
I don't want to be something
That hurts others anymore
I don't want to be anything
I don't want to see the world
So bright and overwhelming and scary
I don't want to acknowledge these questions
I can't answer them; I shouldn't have to!
I'm so scare
Crona's PoemDeath is imminent in all situations.Crona's Poem4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No matter the case, it'll come
Thus, why live on this planet
of pollution and horror?
A new terror to haunt our minds
Living insecure and lonely lives.
Corners being our only form of refuge.
Our rushing blood our only true friend.
Blood is the equivalent of death.
Death is the equivalent of blood.
Therefore, life is death.
Yet the horrors continue to grow.
New ones continue to come.
How are we to deal with this?
The right choice is impossible to make,
and inevitably, every choice is death.
Why not pass instead?
Yes, that is the choice to make.
Passing is the only way to be happy.
So making everyone pass is the right choice,
but isn't passing life like dying?
Does it make it right?
If every choice is death then the right choice is death, too.
But if the right choice is death
then why be born?
Crona's Poem Crona's PoemCrona's Poem4 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
In the dark
no to to care for
or to be cared by.
Forever in torment
always in grief
with no one around to hear me cry.
Mother of darkness
or mother of me?
Do I prefer darkness
or horrors to see?
Life is a puppet show
tied to web-like strings.
I am the dumby
A servant of the mother
of lack of intimants.
in the black
no one cares enough to bring me back.
Until this girl
all bathed in light
saw me through
broke me free of the fright.
She took my hand
and I followed her
to the edge of the water
and the edge of the sand.
My soul was awakened
my life back on track
the strings have been cut
and I've been filled with what I've always lacked.
Crona's life...I have pink hair,Crona's life...3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And I'm always depressed,
I don't care how I look,
So I never look my best.
I am so lonely,
I have not one friend,
Because people hate my mother,
And her I must defend.
She sends me into battles,
Where my life could easily be taken,
But she wouldn't even care,
If I were to never awaken.
She's trying to free Asura,
The evil Kishin man,
The unbeatable god of madness,
This was a really bad plan.
She put me in his lair,
I was to protect it with my life,
That's when I saw her,
Maka and her scythe.
She strode towards me,
A tender look in her eye,
She wouldn't stop progressing,
But I had no idea why.
She smiled so innocently,
And asked to be my friend,
She really cared about me,
And wanted me to mend.
I started crying uncontrollably,
And on the ground I sat,
She really wanted to be my friend,
I don't know how to deal with that.
Crona's poemThe endless sorrow. The failure, the pain. The people I have let down. As I walk this beach with no water, and think of all that I have done, none of it has helped anyone. With a family that doesn't need me, a reputation that haunts me, and friends I do not deserve, I live this meaningless life. Trying my hardest not to dissapoint anyone else. And yet I do over and over. And each time I tell myself that it won't happen again. Only to fail and not only hurt myself, but others as well. Sometimes I think of what it would be like, to live a normal life. To walk a normal path. Not one filled with darkness and betrayl. Yet that will never be possible. For my blood is black, and yours is red. And that makes all the difference in the world.Crona's poem4 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Crona + Me - That Darn CircleI'm safe now .Crona + Me - That Darn Circle4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in my own little circle.
No one could get inside it .
and I couldn't hurt anyone outside of it.
I lived with fear of ruining everyone's lives.
So i'd shut myself away from them
I also had denied myself.
I couldn't interact with anybody or
answer any questions thrown at me.
So I'd live alone in my little circle.
I watched all the other people getting along perfectly
and wished I'd be one of them someday.
But I never thought it would happen.
After all, I could never hold a conversation.
Then one fateful day .
She watched me in my circle,
then asked to join me.
Why would she want to go to me?
Aren't there all those others out there?
She erased the line,
and I watched my only defense disappear.
She brought her hand out to me,
"Do you want to be friends?"
I couldn't answer
Without control, I started crying.
Why would she want me?
Don't I make people suffer?
I ..I couldn't!
When I closed my eyes,
I felt t
Crona's PoemCrona's PoemCrona's Poem4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Everyone has a hell; it's just hidden, inside their head.
Darkness in my blood flood through my being slowly, much like a river flowing into a well.
Scars of black blood and souls captured by the unholy blade,
Screams of humans that pierced my ears as I bother not to hear what they tried to say.
I'm alone, truly alone. With a mother who beat me and stole my freedom, I was a prisoner
In my own home.
The walls around me close in, slowly, ever so slowly they begin to cave in and creak.
Breath ragged in sleep, haunting memories of dark sins to keep.
The ever silent death glides behind, every step, each breath
A dull sign of being alive.
Colors and kindness seem dim and bitter,
Everyone gave up on me the world's youngest sinner.
I can't deal with this .I just can't.
Slaying humans and taking their souls, growing stronger as my blade cackles at the food that's been granted
Blood red tears stream down weary eyes, tired of death, of all these lies.
Crona's PoemI am scared. I sit in this empty room, with a demon in my spine. He's always there, twisting my nose and poking at my face. His hateful words stab at my blackened heart. Its hurts in a way that the black blood will never heal. My blood is black.Crona's Poem4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
This demon, in my spine, is always there. Then why do I feel so lonely? He always talks to me. He always makes himself known. Then why do I feel so solitary?
I hold my chest, hoping to feel a heart beat. Why can't I find it? Did She take it from me? Did She take that, like She took my sanity? Wait, no, it is there. I feel its faint fluttered, shriveled to nearly nothingness. That is worse than having no heart beat at all. My blood is a hollow black.
All my life I've been beaten. I have been broken. And I have been locked away. My sorrow filled words will forever be unspoken. And that scares me. What if no one hears my last breath? What if no one realizes that my life is lost, even before my death? Is it best that way? Best that no one knows of