PoemsWhat These Eyes SeeMore Like This
With these eyes, I look at thee
And see not what others see
Instead I see beneath the mask
To find out what, you need not ask
You need but look into your heart
To find out what you truly are
Your heart is black, far from divine
But shame on me, for so is mine.
You are my angel, and even though
Your skin may not be as white as snow
Your wings they are the deepest black
That would put to shame a witchs cat
And instead of a halo, you have horns
The tips of which are sharp as thorns
Youre still my angel, and you should know
Whatever your destination, my soul will go.
I feel Im trapped, nowhere to go
Time quickly passes and flows
I look around, but can see nothing
Nor hear a sound, nor feel a sting
I believe that you will truly find
That I am trapped within my mind.
What Lies Within
In shadow, in darkness, beneath everyone's guise,
Past the flesh, through the bone, hidden with lies,
A face, a secret, that the world won't abid
A poem....You're always there to listenMore Like This
When I'm feeling down
Somone I can turn to
For a smile when I frown.
You always know just what to say
to get me feeling glad
And I in turn help you, my love
when you are feeling sad
We've had our times when we have not
exactly seen eye to eye
And times when I was so upset
we almost said good-bye
But I know this much is true, my love
Ill love you forever more
Its taken time, but now
you have finally opend up the door
to my heart....
You know my deepest secrets
Stuff Id rather not tell
To anyone but those who know me really well
I cant help but think
That we'll meet face-to-face some day
And until that day comes, I will wait
And never look away
the sun is shining bright
And the stars will point the way
soon ill hold you in my arms
We'll be together soon....Someday
Destroy This PoemDestroy This PoemMore Like This
To the person grading this poem
To the kind, patient woman hovering over this with a pen
Waiting to say kind, patient words in response, do me a favor:
Dont Patronize me.
I did not slave over this with hammer and anvil
Shaping it into a masterpiece.
I didnt paint it onto the ceiling of some church,
Going blind from the pain and the stress.
I didnt even turn this in on time.
And while Im writing this in my fifth-period economy class,
You can bet Im not concerned with iambs and troches and Italian terza rima.
No, Im concerned with how much water is left in my water bottle.
This isnt a masterpiece.
Who are we kidding?
Youre not going to hurt it, and you most certainly arent going to hurt me.
Dont patronize me.
I want you to destroy my work.
I want you to rip it to shreds with sadistic dominatrix glee.
Tear it apart from margin to margin;
Laugh openly at its crippled, struggling body.