...

So I wrote a poem during 6th period... I called it Black Heart.


Full of hatred;
Blinded by insecurities,
burdened with this guilt.

Save me,
Someone save me from myself.

Oh, inside, I'm bleeding,
Twisted dagger,
This pain I feel,
Cuts me up inside.

Stop me,
Don't let me fade away.

My heart is poisoned,
but it keeps pumping.
The hatred,...

For a time,
I have been clinging to a false hope.

My fingers are slipping,
from the rope that holds me up.

I'm still falling,
down a never ending tunnel.

There's little to no light,
leading the way.

I'm walking, blindly, through the unfamiliar.
With nothing but the small hope as my guide.

If you hate someone,
Don't hold on to the little strings;
the strings that keep them attached.

One second more than need be,
is another second risking the tears --
tears of one who don't deserve the pain.

Let go quickly and swiftly.
Don't hold on for far too long.

One second too late,
and their hanging is at your feet.

Be the witch with the stone heart;
show the grays and the blacks....

I must release the hold that I have on the balloons of my past,
Each balloon -- soaring up into the sky --
is another friend I have lost to pointless drama.


I close my eyes,
dreading the truth,
hoping that maybe -- just maybe --
this is all just a figment of my mind.


Yet when I blink back my tears,
and my sight returns,
I see the world bright and clear --
It's true and real --
I have...