Time to forget

Time to forget

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Jul 11, 2014
The following is my collection of poems I have accumilated over the years of loneliness, melancholy and lethargy. When day to day things such as stress, betrayal and dark moments in my life almost crushed me beneath despair, I turned to paper and ink and freely wrote my feelings down as peoms. Unlike many of my age who perceived the cold kisses of sharp blades on their wrists as an escape method, I on the other hand, had a philosophical talk about everything and nothing to paper. Heavy thoughts have been lifted from my shoulders as soon as I would add another stanza to the ballad, sonnet or a short narrative. I hope you guys will enjoy these, as many asked me to see this collection. I really hope one day, one of you who is reading this and is on the brink of falling into abyss, will realise the beauty of this world and will break free of chains of depression. Enjoy yourselves during your short stay, Jason
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I may just be a girl. No one special. Nothing compared to others. In the eyes of the universe, I am just a little speck of dust. My light may not shine very bright, and it may not be of any use, but I am me. Writing is my only escape out of this world. I cry rivers of ink and climb mountains of words. I may not write as well as others, but my writing is just a different style. They're my feelings. I really do hope you can connect to some of the work in here. Please, do not copy any of this work without informing me first. Thank you! "My Escape" I have a supply, In the closet near my bed, Of past memories, Hanging by a thread. A thread, Connected to my mind, That thread, Just follows me around. I have a hole, In the middle of my heart, That hole fills up, When someone's torn apart. I have a tear, Accompanying my lonely eye, Knowing, whenever I'm alone, I can sit in a corner and cry. Even though, These things are there, I still have ink, a notebook, and a pen, To care. I write and write, To my heart's desire, New feelings erupt, By the hour. Writing is, My one escape, In this cruel and careless world, I have the power, to awake. "A Story Without Words" A story told, In a little tune, A golden smile, And a shining tear, Rolling down my cheek. A little breeze, The nice sun, A marvelous day, Turned into a wet one. The memories dripped, Down on my cotton white shirt, Leaving stains, On my malicious heart. Your smile, Worth a thousand words, Can't cheer up This depressive mind. A storm bewildered, Your indecisive mind, Drowning me, In my reckless thoughts. A rainy day, A gleaming lie, A story not told, With words Nor sounds. This story is, But a mere thought, In this universe We share, Every night. This story is, A withering storm, Drifting off, In this careless soul. This story is, Not told with sounds, But a never ending blow, Of swirling emotions, Bottled up inside.

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