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Literature Text
She is worthless,
A toy to be strung along.
A heartbroken loner,
Singing her bitter, ugly song.
She is useless,
A discarded rusted tool.
A hopeless dreamer,
Even she knows she's a fool.
She is alone,
A prisoner of her own twisted mind.
A forgotten princess,
Happily ever after was never hers to find.
She is numb,
An unfeeling ghost.
A lost, empty soul,
Death is what she yearns for most.
She is fake,
An imposter pretending.
A self-loathing bitch,
Some wounds are never mending.
She is giving up,
Becoming another statistic.
A desperate suicide,
If there was hope, she must have missed it.
A toy to be strung along.
A heartbroken loner,
Singing her bitter, ugly song.
She is useless,
A discarded rusted tool.
A hopeless dreamer,
Even she knows she's a fool.
She is alone,
A prisoner of her own twisted mind.
A forgotten princess,
Happily ever after was never hers to find.
She is numb,
An unfeeling ghost.
A lost, empty soul,
Death is what she yearns for most.
She is fake,
An imposter pretending.
A self-loathing bitch,
Some wounds are never mending.
She is giving up,
Becoming another statistic.
A desperate suicide,
If there was hope, she must have missed it.
Literature
Apathetic Angel, What You Deserved
Child of dreams, wonderful soul, oh, how I let you down.
Angel of all the things I'd forgotten, oh, how I let you down.
You were the one who taught me to love; the one who taught me to dream. You were the one who made good things seem like reality.
Son of the Truth, son of the Lord, oh, how I swallowed the words.
Dear of my heart, the one who resides there, oh, how I swallowed the words.
You deserve more than me, darling I know that; trust me, I finally see. You deserve breathtaking beauty and honor, not what I stole for me.
Teacher of patience, teacher of wisdom, oh, how I tossed you aside.
Gentle, your words were always the right ones,
Literature
Always an Angel
We never got to hold you, feel your skin, see your smile.
We’ll always wonder who you would’ve been
and how you would change this world.
You never lost your wings
Literature
Wasted Life
Drip, drip drip...
Can you see my blood?
The spring of my life
Flowing in a gigantic flood.
What can ease,
This endless bleed,
Which still keeps,
Draining from me?
My heart cannot be free,
Neither can this empty,
Flesh of mine.
As the blood,
Continues to run,
Inside out,
Along with it,
Goes my very will.
Maybe at last,
I shall be put,
To rest,
If it be not so,
Then let me go.
To you I am unknown,
And broken away,
From flesh,
I will be.
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Ironic how I haven't submitted in forever, but as soon as I apologize for not writing I write a poem.
© 2012 - 2024 crazi-4-muffinz
Comments8
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The poem is great. I don't like that you feel so bad about yourself. You have a lot to offer others. I truly see that. I know at the moment you don't feel that way and often feel trapped. But, you have made a difference and touched people here on DA. If nothing else, that counts for a lot.