The painful poet

poetry r us
2002-06-13 21:28:56 (UTC)

something new

Why can't I breath?
I'm sitting here thinking,
About all of these things.
When you never saw the real me.
I thrive for your touch,
Am I asking for much?
Why does it hurt to sleep at night?
I mean it's not physical pain.
scooby121501: It's mental,
I see him in my dreams,
Us dancing through wheat fields.
Hand in hand.
Both happy,
Not a fear in the world.
Us holding eachother close,
When we have bad dreams.
Where did I go wrong?
Am I being punished,
For if so,
What did i do?
Why am i so out of place?
And misunderstood...
Nobody sees me for me.
Not some screen name,
Or some freak,
Or a retard who likes to write alot...
Why was it my time?
I'm not ready!
The world hurts to much.
Doesn't show me enough,
Yet does in so many words...
The first taste feels like freedom,
Yet the most scariest thing ever!
scooby121501: Why do people do childish things?
When they know they are wrong?
Who made depression?
Cause I feel trapped.
Locked in a dark dungeon.
In a bottomless abyss,
Of nothing...
Will it always be this way?
Will the same question stay?
To haunt,
And taunt me,
Everyday!
Why don't my wishes come true?
Wishes are nothing,
But,
Ones imagination...
Maybe his love for me,
Was all in my imagination,
A wish.
Nothing more.
For the raven has crocked it's last message.
Never more...

Stephanie Steiger
Written: 6/12/02




Ad: