regret

To Quiet His Gaze

                   Cold stare

                        Cursing everything...

                     Everyone in its path.

                   A tug at her heart

                           and a painful emptiness

                   inside her chest.

                           Beautiful,

                              They called her once.

                   No, she thought, never again.

                           But the cold gaze

                         Continues to pierce her body.

                   The hole it leaves continues to

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this about making love to an angry man.

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A Lonely Old Woman

Not only was she old and lonely

She was also very wise

The words she spoke to me

Were somehow words I never heard



So many years later

Long since my old friend has gone

I again hear her lonely voice

And I finally hear her words



Hold your head up high

You must hold your head up high

And never look back



Now I understand what she was saying to me

For not only was she old and lonely

She was also very wise



If only I had listened so many years ago

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Advice Not Taken

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rants#!

what has become of  life. it seems that i waste more time as i get older. i feel i should be doing so much but in the end i do nothing of any consequence.  what happened where did it all go wrong. im not sure.  i look around at my life at the present state and i have to admit i really dont like whats going on. its been a week since the end of my spring term at the universtiy. i fail to regognize the  name of the institution, because, well it reaaly doesnt matter anymore. it seems that nothing really matters anymore. i got nothing to do but shoot my mouth off. it seems the greatist tragedy in my life is that i have nothing....no no one to share it with. whether its a superficial dream or just a need for some sort of social contact im not sure.  its relavent that it doesnt matter anymore. i have no more dreams, i have no more wishes .  because in my youth i have learned these things are pointless  whats the use in having a dream when your destined to fail. i feel i have the anti - midas touch. everything i touch instead of turning into gold just dies.  i know im probably one of the only other people that share this sentiment.  most kids my age im 20 yet im still a child, have freinds and things to do.  but life has passed me by.  what happened where did i go.  im still not sure where i belong, i quite sure that im not good at anything.  a life time of fucking things up has riddled me into shambles. i have no confidence, i ve always felt my life was some great tragedy  and well its pretty much playing out that way.  im dying one minute at a time. what am i to do. life passes me by but i really dont care. i have no more motivating factor anymore.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

not a poem

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Silent

Why was I silent for a year? I was too proud to make things better, but you also said you didn't care. You said you were sick of trying. Every day it was just us and we didn't need anyone else to have fun. Why did I not try to fix things? Because I was mad at you for some dumb reason that is trivial now. What would it be like now if we had never stopped talking? Would we still be as close as we were in the beginning?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

One of my biggest regrets: ignoring a friend for way too long. It got me nowhere

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Justification

I walk down the narrow dark hall,

Clouded moonlight offers little light through the barred windows,

My dark room awaits me,

There is no light there,

And the only sounds will be the chilling wind and dripping water from within the walls,

On top of my own whimpering as I cower in the corner,



Legs bent and head resting on knees, I cry, alone,

Water drips down the dull concrete blocks and forms a pool beneath,

Each drip that cascades down represents each tear I cry,

The dripping won’t cease, nor will my tears,

The monotonous sounds of dripping water and chilling wind forcing through the door drill into my head,



I start to rock, reaching inside myself for comfort,

Searching for a fond memory, anything that will help,

But I am empty, and as cold as the solid stones that make up my square dungeon,

So I sit and I rock, and I listen to the water and the wind,

Til I eventually fall asleep,

Head laying in a pool of water,

And my body rests.

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Fire

With the breath of my lips

I destroyed a friend

And in doing so

Destroyed myself

As though burning I writhed

As I heard her cries

And I longed to take back those words

That brought tears to her eyes

Though spoken, innocent,

They destroyed her now

And the fire, raging,

Consumed its creator.

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