Be warned, most of this poetry is rather depressing. Some is just wierd.
I don't write unless I am feeling a strong emotion, normally anger or
saddness, so expect that to show through.
Waiting... (Fall 1996)
We are all pathetic.
We sit here watching, reading, waiting....
We complain about friends we are supposed to have,
Loves that we seem not to find,
Lives we are supposed to have.
Yet we sit and we wait...
For the friend that will never been found
For the love that will never blossom
For the life we do not lead.
And yet we wait...
And do nothing but sit and complain.
Blood Hunger (Winter 1996)
Red is the color of the demon hordes,
Red is the color on the evening doors.
With red doth the eyes of hatred glow.
With red the rivers in the street shall flow.
12:03 (Dec 15, 1997)
The clock it reads 12:03, dull red numbers glowing dimly.
"12:03" she mutters to the surrounding darkness.
Such an insignificant time 12:03.
And yet it is a milestone of her life, a time when all became nothing,
when her world shattered, her soul wretched and broken.
12:03... the clock slowly blinks the seconds away...
With a tired flick of her wrist, a small flame sputter to life,
the dancing light illuminating her stark features.
"A candle to remember by" she sighs as a tear rolls down her cheek.
To remember what was and what was lost
at this most insignificantly important time.
She stares at the flame, lost in the memories of what was.
And behind her, the clock quietly blinks 12:04.
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