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GIRL
Like cobwebs in closets,
And stains on white sheets;
Like plastic on couches,
To make them look neat,
And hide all the razor blades
Under the seats;
Red is the blood
From our veins as we bleed.
And sick is the mind
That is writing this poem,
Withering,wallowing,
Writhing alone;
Doing anything possible
To find her way home,
But failing attempts
Leave her dying alone.
So scarred is the heart
Of this scared little girl
Who takes all her problems
Out on the world.
But world is so crazy,
World is so blurred,
And Girl goes unnoticed,
Girl goes unheard.
So,Girl gets so angry,
Girl could just kill.
Girl could just strangle
And mangle at will.
But Girl is not evil,
Girl is just ill.
Girl just fell down
The wrong side of the hill.
And Girl just wakes up
On the wrong side of bed
With screaming still echoing
Inside her head,
Like a Funeral Song
That is played for the dead,
As droplets of Crimson
Form pools where she bled.
i relate so well to this one i felt it real deep inside where all my pain dwells hope if u ever read my work you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed urs
Hi! I'm here because of the invitation you left at my site. Thank god, I can give you some more positive comments on this one than the last one...I was scared you'd hate me for what I said about 'Fini.'
I like this poem...I mean it's obviously not pleasant, but it's very good. I love the first part especially, because it paints a vivid visual picture and also the idea of this self-harm being kept secret. Okay, but one thing, poem and alone really don't rhyme. Other than that, this is a beautiful and sad poem and not just because of the subject but because of how you wrote it, and that's what makes a poem special. :)
~Kate~