poems

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Da gothes invited Dusk into da goth party where they wrote poetry and shit.  Looiz was also there. Henrietta invited her fffffrends into her room.

-Here is ma poem- Henreitta answered. Her mom cum into her room and flipped her off. Omg so baddie.

Henrietta's poem

  My mum is happy
  But I am not.😓😓😓😓
Fairytales are bright.
  But I am not.😭😭😭😭
  I am very sad and Ii wanna cri.🥺🥺🖤🖤

Firkle came in and read his poem.

All these people.
I just can't take it people judging.
Don't think I'll make it.
Breaking down.
I think I need you.

Michael came in and started to read his poem.

If a mehn wants u,
Nothing can kip heem awey.
If hee dazn't,
Nahthing will meyk heem stay.

-EWWW EMO KYS- Henreitta shouted. Michael threw a bottle at her. Gacha logic.

Loois sighed and read his poem.
-Sunshine on your gayce.
And a sparklele in ur ayez
You set my hart afarter.
Only if it wasn't meh.
Right as you cumfessed, you were torn away.
I'm sohryy to live you hangin🥺🥺

Ski cried. She related to this poem so much.

Ski read her poem.

Elder sister vomits blood,
younger sister’s breathing fire
while sweet little Tomino
just spits up the jewels.

All alone does Tomino
go falling into that hell,
a hell of utter darkness,
without even flowers.

Is Tomino’s big sister
the one who whips him?
The purpose of the scourging
hangs dark in his mind.

Lashing and thrashing him, ah!
But never quite shattering.
One sure path to Avici,
the eternal hell.

Into that blackest of hells
guide him now, I pray—
to the golden sheep,
to the nightingale.

How much did he put
in that leather pouch
to prepare for his trek to
the eternal hell?

Spring is coming
to the valley, to the wood,
to the spiraling chasms
of the blackest hell.

The nightingale in her cage,
the sheep aboard the wagon,
and tears well up in the eyes
of sweet little Tomino.5

Sing, o nightingale,
in the vast, misty forest—
he screams he only misses
his little sister.

His wailing desperation
echoes throughout hell—
a fox peony
opens its golden petals.

Down past the seven mountains
and seven rivers of hell—
the solitary journey
of sweet little Tomino.

If in this hell they be found,
may they then come to me, please,
those sharp spikes of punishment
from Needle Mountain.6

Not just on some empty whim
Is flesh pierced with blood-red pins:
they serve as hellish signposts
for sweet little Tomino.

Everybody clapped. She had the best poem.

~🖤 Many broken hearts 🖤~Where stories live. Discover now