Numb can't you feel,
Spite where did you go,
Her heart grew colder,
Does apathy make you bold?
Look what you did,
You left her crying,
Full of hopes,
Inside Dying,
Don't you know...
What you do?
When your actions don't show,
Now all she has are memories of you,
You took away her dreams,
Raped her of her love,
It seems to me,
That you will never have enough,
Why would you lie,
Feed her false hugs,
No breath left to sigh,
You were her drug,
She could have had better,
Someone to fill her with worth,
Now she will never know shelter,
Because you filled her with hurt.
About Me
- Crisha
- I started to write poetry when I was 9 years old after the death of a friend. Ever since it has been the only outlet I have embraced. I write about situations of friends, but mostly about self conflicts. My poetry are my psalms, if you will. I have always had a dream writing poetry for publishers, I suppose I have never persued it because of the fear for the lack of talent. Probably a poor excuse. I always hope that when someone reads mypoetry it strikes them, right in the heart. In that place they themselves have not even noticed they have. Often when I write I find emotions I have submerged for so long I pour it out in mass. I want the reader to feel that and find themselves swimming in my heart.
Fancy Fence
ooh la la