Poem 1
The illness of anger,
Consumed by the concept of fear,
Stay away from danger,
What do I even hold dear?
My one true beautiful sin,
Those poisonous words consume my mind,
Unrevealed beneath my skin,
What kind of monsters are mankind?
I am blinded by the pain,
Disturbing emptiness consumes me,
I am nothing, I am slain,
To them I bow my knee,
They are sickos, they are scum,
Something I did not want to become.
Poem 2
A lone soldier sent off to war,
To put the demons to sleep,
The light she needed to restore,
Their arrows penetrated deep,
What once filled her with joy,
Now sprouts like weeds in her heart,
She is like a fragile toy,
Her thin seams rip apart,
The art of being perpetually broken,
Consumed by anger and defeat,
Her true being awoken,
The end she awaits to meet,
Somewhere deep inside her shell,
Is somewhere nothing can dwell.
Poem 3
They are sickos, they are scum,
That time will surely come,
After these days of their rain,
When the sun dries my pain,
Revealing beneath my cracked skin,
My one true beautiful sin,
Hatred flows in my veins,
As rushed as a river,
It aches and boils,
My blood it does soil.
Their words echoed,
My mind an empty ravine,
The water evaporated into steam,
Dense, it blinds me,
I see shadows of faces,
And old favorite places,
That once gave me light,
Now dawn on me like darkness,
They are sickos, they are scum,
Something I did not want to become.
YOU ARE READING
My Notes For Cheer
PoetryI write to whisper words of my heart. My Notes for Cheer is all but cheerful. It's to cheer on the people who suffer, who can't stand it anymore, who don't know what to do. You are not alone. I write to tell my story in ways of small stories and poe...
