Emotionless

Meant To Be

Folder: 
*~ Charlie ~*

January 9th, 2006



If fate

Happened a little late

Its okay

Because it will happen one day



And if the sun

Happens to run

Well thats ok too

Because only it knew



If rain falls

And darkness crawls

It was meant

All in a days dent



And if it never works

Something else lurks

For it was meant to be

Even if it isnt you and me

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What Would You Do?

Folder: 
Poems

What would you do if life took everything away from you?

What would you do if there was nothing left in the morning to get up for?

If everything you ever believed in was shattered?

What would you do if you had no direction?

What would you do if you were confused

If you were truely lost

What would you do if you couldn't stop crying

What would you do if you felt like you were dying

If every memory was painful

What would you do if you couldn't stand?

What would you do if you couldn't breath?

If you couldn't feel anything but agony?

What would you do?

would you end it?

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Solitude and its Demised Victim

I have began to sit
And to sit alone
All by myself
I figure I bought this.

Stoic mood
Is the flavor
Of my saviour.
Solitude.

Of the mind
That is a trap
--Inside
Alone.

Pride from
the torn hide
No more
Of the essence

of

Life.

Scars across all
as the stars above.
Time is victim
And future child.

Darkness is true
And is the saving
motion of a dying
person.

When the world
felt full
is when
a person lives.

Break it,
the essence of life
drains from it
With the taste of salt.

Its purity gone
It stings the
expression
forever.

Is solitude the
final
answer to
my fate?

Forever I can
write.
Eternally
I can.

Always remember
ing every
thing
endlessly.

A cold heart
exists because
it was bled
to death.

Reach for
The stars
To find a
lost dream.

Pointless laughing
Inane thoughts
Discontinued
Reasoning

of
want.

What is purpose
without
its perspective
of mind.

Meaning of
life eternal
is a decision
--Mine of love.

A perfect world
a bond pure
--shattered
gone.

Wishful thinking
that is
hope.
Then

there is
the
--rope.

Two rights
do not make
a wrong.
One wrong

Destroys all right.
What an eternal
Rant
From the internal.

The music speaks
of the past
it pulls
for perfection.

Systematic
Destruction
Of all
thoughts.

it is in this
we find truth of
ourselves.
we

all want
something.
--What is
the eternal

grab?
The reason
we continue
for a moment

--or for
hell's existence.
Chaos in order
surround

all sides
by sound.
Give that
feeling

OF
SOLITUDE.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

And that is.

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Spring will never come

Spring Will Never Come

By Muriel Palanca



Morning light shines through the clouds in the grayest of blue skies.

Winter wind is drowning her as her tears release in sighs.

The trees are dying just like her with every passing day.

Holding on to any hope that maybe spring will come her way.

Her flesh is turning black and blue with every gasping breath,

A raw and frigid agony that leaves her begging for her death.

She’s fragile as the fallen snow though her heart’s as hard as stone.

She’s reaching for a hand to hold though she knows she’s all alone.

Misery is company since dead ends seem to come in pairs.

And all the while, she’s wishing for a slightly lighter cross to bear.

The moon is all that’s guiding her. A fire so still, it burns at night.

The stars so pale in all their glory are such a bleak and tragic sight.

The snow falls down like hells own fury as if the lonesome angels weep.

The darkness feels like rain to her when the nightmares help her sleep.

She fought against the crushing tide of reasons why she could not stay.

She lost herself and all her faith when waves of doubt swept her away.

She builds a castle made of ice, a refuge where she’s trapped inside.

She calls it home forever more, eclipsed with walls where she can hide.

Solitary in her prison of beauty twisted with despair,

A wasteland of her innocence as her soul is buried there.

She saw her fate with lying eyes that longed to taste the sweetest sorrow,

Of never waking to the dawn of another cold tomorrow.

If only love could bring her mercy and warm her broken heart, so numb.

Then winter’s frost would fade away, but she knows spring will never come.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i quite like this poem...i related love to springtime...and winter is how cold i feel inside. i guess i've kind of given up on spring...

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Hollow Emptiness

Sitting here so cold and lonely

No warm hands to embrace me

In my head everything is black

A deep oblivion of thoughts

Just hollow emptiness



So many questions, but no answers

So many riddles; it?s all a big cipher

There?s no land in sight

Only a big empty hole

A sea of confusion



No hope; no love to find here

Only a forsaken waste land

A desert of twisted minds

Only memories; only grief

In this endless emptiness

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Just A Word

Love is a word that describes a feeling for another,

We describe it as a wonderful thing.

We are naive to think we can explain it,

To understand it where do you being.



Hate is a word that carries great pain,

It is empty and complete with darkness.

People are careless when using this word,

It accomplishes nothing often ending in sadness.



Sadness is a word of hopelessness,

Hurtful and full of sorrows,

Dreaded and unforgiving.

From loneliness a great pain it borrows.



Emotion is a word random and confusing,

It carries feelings bad and good.

How you see it is how you look at it,

It depends on where you stood.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Words are used so often and so carelessly. Is it possible that we don't know what they are, that they have lost all meaning?

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STEP INTO HOMICIDAL IDEATION

No one can really describe what it is like.

It is something that takes over.

It is moments that some people say rationality goes out the window.



For a moment I allowed my mind to take the trip.

To think of breaking a universal rule.



I thought I could end it all.

The nightmares, that person stalking me, my family, my friends.

The maligning of untruths, burdens, and me over damage control I should not have to do.



For a moment I took a step into homicidal ideation.

I thought I’m an expert firer, mixed race with dark skin.

The army taught me to always complete a mission, so I could pick a night, park a few blocks away, wear dark clothes, lay in the prone and handle the situations.



I thought in doing so I’d take the step from homicidal ideation to suicide and no one would even have to know.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I have dark moments at times and they scare me.

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The last poem I ever write

Folder: 
2005

Countless words make their way onto this paper

then evaporate into thin air like water vapor

why can't these words breathe, I gave them life

but they consume and take over me in the void of the night

what eats me up inside are words that never existed at all

that were richocheted off my brain like a padded wall

cause I could never find the words to say how I feel

I want my hurt to come to life so I can make them real

or maybe everything that I have written will disappear in the night

and maybe this will be the last poem that I will ever ever write

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dream-covered

to dream from here

inside all of these places

all this torment covered up

by unconsciousness

dream-covered life

where are we to go?

there lay their body

draped upon the ground in the cemetery

their eyes directed to the dark above

open star-filled sky



the things in life that exist...some so beautiful

why must they mislead?



she sits upon the graveyard wall

looks up and says that shes dreaming

cover me up

ill take it-give me

drape me in dreams

Author's Notes/Comments: 

dreams...escaping from reality.

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