Melody PoemEverything seems to fall, to the ground, soft and hard.
Strangled up in my feelings, I'm so confused, so confused.
I fall to the ground, on my knees.
These Tears I cry, fail my Heart.
Everytime I know to smile, its always fake, its always fake.
I can't choose now, its coming too close.
The winds have strengthend, and the stars are falling.
The whispers seem to fill the night,
the waters seem full of life.
Hearts are broken, children are playing.
This melody, is so un-willing.
Its far away, my laughter sings.
I see your face, and you've grown some wings.
Over and over again, lets play this Melody.
Starting from depression, over to serenity.
Over and over again, Scream your Love.
This way to live, is such a waste.
Stop the hate, Play the Laughter, Pause the Pain, I'm going Insane.
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Love is, 'poemLove is like the wind, your life is spinning just like spring has sprun, yet voices lie there, and sing the saddest song. lies lies lies. are what they seem to be, and you soon find out, there will never be a you and me.
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Love is like the rain, it splashes down onto the ground in a gracelful way, some might say. It sings the tune, the tune of love, yet gets in peoples way, and seems to missbehave. What does this mean? Will I ever see the rain again? Or will I just be outside, burning with the pain?
Love is like the ocean, it moves swiftly, and never backs down. It twists and turns, but never stops. And always seems to make the mark. But as it sings, it leaves its ways. And parts into one, while the other goes away.
Split second.Find me a way to save me from myself,
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all the streets are empty of thoughts;
your company is enough. You hold me
down on a spot. I find the keys to my home,
it's your name that opens the door.
Still, all photographs are useless;
we're not in any of them. We're a dream
short of reality. We sleep constantly
waiting for the wake up call. A ring
that calls us both to the empty houses
we once left behind.
Still, we hold on; our hands untied
of one another, our wrists still tied
to our will. We look at the distance,
like we measure our own. We can't
cross our line of sight without feeling
Still, I find me ways to save me
from the thought of being emptied:
the colors you own are not yours to keep,
the flowers you leave out to dry are just
signs of when our wills don't meet,
but I leave my body on your bed,
I dream asleep for you to come.
You rarely do. You rarely walk
the distance between your steps
and the lack of your own thoughts.
All the wooden boards crack under our fe