loved

Shadow

Sometimes do you feel like a shadow?

You're always there but no-one knows

So many times you've gotten trampled on before

And before anyone notices, you're always gone

 

This is what I feel like

Not loved, forgotten and disliked

These things seem to get in the way

But they always say "push through the day"

 

Sometimes I can, sometimes I can't

I feel so sad and yet so mad

I am really not a shadow anymore

I am just a girl who is unsure

 

I'm lost in a life that I am living

Just hoping and wishing I could change the beginning. 

 

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Love Hate Relationship

Feels like I’m being tore in two. As that creature of habit wears into you.
Same shit, day in and day out. Nothing changes with pleasure or shout.
The days go by and you’re still the same. Drowning your thoughts with electronic chains.
“Relax, relax, relax, I just want to relax.” You’ve been ‘relaxing’ for days, you’re driving me insane.
The light from your screen blurs what you see. Nothing around you is clicking up stream.
You torture me with your sloth, and pride. I've never loved and hated someone so much.
I don’t want perfect. I don’t need perfect.
I need peace. Peace of mind you’ll help when I need. That you’ll be aware of the scene. That you know what’s at stake. That I know you are headed for your dreams, instead of you making me want to pull my hair out and scream.
But all you do is sit and wait. Make a move, show that you’re true.
Don’t wait for me to leave you behind, wishing I hadn’t given you a second of my time, for you to turn around and learn what you had to do, when this whole time I have been telling you.
Your games, your internet, it’s all a drug, and you don’t even know you’re addicted.
Saying others are scumbags because of their need, while blocking yours out by the lights of that goddamn screen.

"Orphanne' "

Folder: 
My Work

“A crippled; crawling, curious girl,
stumbled into light.
Her fractured, hopeless, dreary world,
is given second sight.
Her heart hardened and doubled;
broken now, into.
Her manic thoughts so troubled,
daily now, renewed.
As memories mirror an attack,
by tragic childish fears;
the smile you see is now unmatched,
caressed by happy tears.
The enemy of stolen time,
now it’s become best friend.
The youth she had to leave behind,
has been restored again.
Her faith though kept still; shaken,
grew higher than the storm.
The nights that had been taken,
now feel so safe and warm.
A life of bitter ashes;
replaced by dreams of dare,
the sorrow of the past has,
vanished into air.
From believing no one loved her,
to convinced that Some One does.
From accepting she must suffer,
to receiving special love.
From cringing in a cold cage,
to soaring high and free.
From leading lady, on a stage,
to praising out of key.
The mask hiding the glow,
has fallen to the ground.
Revelation knowledge flows,
peace can make a sound.
This change came slowly,
and remains a mystery.
He forever Holy,
searching for..just…me.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The transformation of a heart.

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Toska*

Folder: 
Newer Poems

Hand over hand spinning through time
Deep with thought in this tormented mind
Selfish, angry and twisted with rage
Screaming and crying through bars of this cage
The quickness of life moves with such speed
Pages move faster than what I can read
Constantly turning to remember the past
Visions embedded; I want them to last
Sorrow and solitude all in my reach
An indestructible barrier unable to breach
Desire and burning resides in my chest
Desperately seeking to put them to rest

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For anyone who doesn't know, the word Toska is a russian word. It is one of the words that doesn't translate into just one word in the english language.

Vladmir Nabokov describes it best: “No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom.”

I welcome any comments so feel free to speak honestly.

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