A Few Poems - A few poems of mine I think you'll like... - Life Style

Fire

I watch the splinters ignite
I gleam like a shiloette at night
I spread to the wood
I kill...

I feel thew power rush through me
I grow...

The screams die away
I climb up the stairs
I taste the flesh layer by layer...

A cold feeling suddenly spreads through me
I feel myself fly back down
I glide swooping around...

I try to lash out
I fail
The air, drops from around me...

I lie down dying
I close my eyes
And the flame dies.

Fog

I am the cover of all things evil
I close the eyes of good
I pull a layer over the world
I feel myself spread and be...

I roll over a car window
I climb to a mountains peak
I curl around a house gracefully
I lie down on the grass mournfully

I shadow the doings of man
I follow ships where I can
I push a woman out to sea
Where she tries to look through me

I am the cover of all things longed for
I make people disbelieve what they saw.

Inside me

The girt inside me tells me how the clouds are pretty,
The tom boy inside me asks where's the nearest place to play footy,
The peace maker inside me cares for all,
The hater inside me prays for war,
The anarchist inside me tells me to burn things,
The socialist inside me tells me to make friends,
The person inside me wants to break out,
The aristocrat inside me likes drinking port,
The goth inside me is always morbid,
The vampire inside me likes to be feared,
The poet inside me likes writing this,
The artist inside me loves painting pets,
I am inside me, watch my face,
As I try so hard to erase,
The pain I feel, inside me.

Black

Dressed in black from head to toe,
her face pale with an eerie glow,
The looks she gets devouring her inside,
The feeling of loss and never of pride,
The tears of her family wash over her feet,
She tastes their dissapointment, sour not sweet,
But inside she is happy, the way she wants to be,
And if people have a problem with what they see,
She cares,
Not a bit.

Tears

her face in her hands, she leans against the walls,
The tears stream down her pale skin,
She tries to hold on, but she is weak she falls,
Her mind remembers her many sins,
She holds a photo, torn in places,
Her fingers run over the paper,
She sees their faces, she hears their voices,
Crying to her through the paper,
Why won't,
They let her sleep?

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Rose or as some know me, Rosie Ragdoll, or Gothgirl, or Gigantic Moth, or Gordan or just "the freak" normally, well you get the idea
Voo doo doll lane,
Crapsville	hellsylvania	0000 0001
Ga ga land
0800 F-R-E-A-K
Fax 0800 B-I-T-E-M-E
GothgirlY2K@yahoo.co.uk

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Page Updated Wed Jul 25, 2001 5:14pm EDT