PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I found a girl, and saw her perspective
Silent, yet surprisingly reflective
They claimed she was away, entirely defective

But I knew otherwise just from the look in her eyes
I saw through the silent, and closed off disguise

And from there, I saw the immediate connection
Completely dissected, but still searches for true affection

Her warm, yet crooked emotion
A calmed, yet broken devotion

Silent, but struggling for her sound
and yet, still not a face found

Her skin torn, gone and rotten.
Her mouth stolen, words lost, ignored and forgotten.

She was exposed to all of the morbid things
Corrupted lies, and uneven broken wings

All she wanted to know if happiness was true
This is what I saw, this was the girl I knew

And she left sudden, without a word,
Her existence she seen was too blurred

Before I could realize, she was gone and done
Did you ever wonder what life can become?

All she wanted to know if happiness was true
This is what I saw, this was the girl I knew..

Tell me, is it ever really "Okay?"

At times I wish I could disappear, away from the day.

Tell me, was it really all a mystery?

Or was I really something plagued by history?

Judge me, try to reason my scars,

Yet, were you there for  my unreasonable wars?

Did you ever set foot in my shoes?

Taken account of what brings the blues?

Tell me, does it really matter?

If I was any more the sadder?

Perhaps it's just my business, only my trouble.

Not another place to intrude into my bubble.

I'll solve my self alone, and myself alone only

Not for you to break my silence, maybe tonight, I'd just like to be lonely.

Blame my shortcomings for my scars if you dare.

For me, it just occurred, the past isn't something I ever chose to wear.

There was once an estate

Painted in such colours as white

With asphalt roads and street lights so bright.

It had a pool for the ladies on sunny days

And a field to keep the boys shining in sweat,

Wrestling for the ball in so many ways.

The houses had no fence

And all were friends with all.

A jolly estate with gay weather it was.

But there was one house, the last house it was.

One house that made no difference

in all its seeming complacence,

With arrowed gates so tall

And wired fence hiding in the clouds.

The house stood as an empty mall

With an expensive paint job of black

And a roof that had no words.

It had a door with a fallen face.

It had a field thirsty of sweat

And a pool going dry.

No one saw no one go in

No one saw no one go out.

But I see his face through the attic window.

I stare at him and he returns the stare.

When I blink, so does he.

When I talk, so does he.

He likes his attic as do I.

He is my only friend.