InternetWe would talk face to face;
Not screen to screen.
But still you bring us together;
Joined are the nations across the seas.
We would read books,
Hear the voice of one
But still you are the bringer of free speech;
We hear the voices of many.
We have many faults,
You may be one.
But still and for now,
you are the people,
and the people you.
To DoI've a never ending list,
of things I should probably do.
The question is do I want to;
The answer probably not
The InnocentAll is not lost.
They can be saved.
Their hearts, so pure;
Their minds, so free.
No one will touch them;
They will learn for themselves.
Hidden YouYou hide behind your logic
We must read between those lines,
To define you is impossible
As you don't show.
You follow how you should be,
Not as you wish.
Your views are stolen
Taken from a higher source,
You are not your own,
You only think,
Your maturity grows sweet
From the childhood you never had,
You are beginning to unravel,
Your world, crashing
Falling off the frail truths you told,
You will one day learn
Lonely"Don't give up, You're closer than you think"
I Remembered those words,
"Don't let your heart sink"
But I wanted to give up, I was tired of trying
I would just fall to the floor, Broken and Crying
Every thought of you made my heart flutter
And when I tried to speak, It would just be a stutter
You were so close, Yet so far away
Alone and sad, I would lay
And Dream about you and your great smile
I could hear your laugh from miles and miles
But it was only a dream,
And my mind wouldn't let me forget
I wanted my dream world, But my mind would not let
The dream I've always wanted to come true
So I could be lying next to you
But my dreams are just dreams
You think I'm happy? It's not all it seems
And as I close my eyes, I let out a sigh
Lost, Cold and alone I lie.
.........Today....I had someone unknown text me.......asking me..."why do you try? what's the point?"......I replied..."the point is located at the end of my razor blade"...................again...they repeated..."what's the point?"....I said..."to draw on my body"........they replied.."your not worth anything"....while I ended with a.."that's one of my pictures I drew on my arm"..........
Die Haut meiner Seele,
so dünn wie Papier-
verschlossen hinter dicken Türen.
Dennoch öffne ich dir.
Verborgen im Schwarzen in all seiner Pracht,
liegt mein Ich verborgen,
mit all seiner Macht.
Ich greife verunsichert, schnell deine Hand,
lasse dich mich führen,
du hast wohl erkannt-
wer ich bin.
Du sagst nichts, doch ich sehe es in deinen Augen.
Deine Weisheit und mein tiefes Vertrauen,
es lässt mich nicht los,
doch sag mir-
wohin führt das bloß?
Du hältst meine Hand,
lässt mich dich führen.
Öffnest mir deine verschlossenen Türen.
Ich hab dich erkannt. Wer du bist.
Ein Traum der nie endet,
Porzellan, das nie bricht.
Ein Weg der nie wendet.
das nie erlischt.
STOLEN INNOCENCESTOLEN INNOCENCE
Maybe you're wondering why the title is bold,
well that is because a story needs to be told
This isn't your average poem about a personal thing;
actually, it's about a subject that makes my heart sting.
Picture a girl, no younger than five
whose heart is filled with joy and is oh so alive.
Think of the teen you may call your best friend
who just might have nearly met a bitter end.
Think of the boy, you might have once known
whose purity was taken before he was grown.
Think of the men women stolen away
only to be tortured and sold another day.
What am I referring to? you may ask.
Well this poem of explanation, is my next task.
They're the victims of pain and despair; whose hearts did break
on the day they were robbed when people their innocence did take.
Innocent and unknowing were these people like you and I;
those who, today, are often passed by.
Without being able to fight back, they were molested and raped,
with hands bound tightly and mouth duct taped.
HealIs this what a recovery looks like?
My mind is free but my body is too tight
There's clothes that I can buy but they can't fit me right
Sometimes I miss being sick because
I could measure love with numbers instead of words
I couldn't sleep but
My grades came in first
My heart can beat again
But now it can't stop-
Living with the cure
Is harder than I thought.
Is this what a happy ending is?
A loss of control and winning again
I'm in my dreamworld but inside I'm still alive
The same girl that has a woman's mind.
A POEM FOR A FRIENDI've got a friend,
she's not of this world,
Her skin isn't green,
her hair isn' curled.
She still is amazing,
like no other one,
her smile is just perfect!
She can beam like the sun!
And in days when she's sad,
I'm down as well,
because I can't bear to see
when life gives her hell.
She's truly spiffing!
She's cute, funny and bright!
And I'm proud to say that,
I've got her on my side.
Her name is Charlotte,
and she's absolutely grand!
I love her, because she is
my best friend.
Deshbo.In a world so marred by careless glances,
trifling terrors and
no second chances -
it's hard to live as a romantic,
but still I'll ask you for all of the
Hold My Hand Hold my Hand.
Hold my hand and let the night drift away ,
Allow the joy of silence a time to play ,
Hold my hand , your soul touches me ,
Allow the freedom of love to comfort thee .
Hold my hand and drift to lands afar ,
Allow our hearts to join and never part ,
Hold my hand , touch us deep inside ,
Allow our minds to coincide .
Hold my hand and let the day arrive ,
Allow the light in , and come alive ,
Hold my hand , the sun is here to stay ,
Allow all pleasures to start another day .
Written by Doodles 15 / 10 /2014