im not good at being mad
there are times when i know that im sad or mad or angry.. but seriously.. i just dont like being that way.. i love being laughy and happy way more, so ill stick to this for a while... and when something realyl pisses me off, im sure people will know. but for now. im happy, i got to go home and see my kitties and eat dinner with mommy and the bro at friendlys :) i miss home sometimes.
heres a really good poem that steve small wrote, he says it was a 40 minute venting poem, and ijust had to put it up here, with his permission of course. i see the connections, thanks steve :). It's called "Interpretation"
A crimson smile that lures you deep
And captures hunger, heart, and sleep
Inside a hand that holds so tight
The voids of darkness and the light.
So statuesque it may appeal
Upon the godly royal seal
To have so fine a crafter's gift
Of solid iron's mighty fist,
But given time and all the tears
Built up upon by many years
Give way to anger, hate and spite
Corroding iron's candelight.
The metal welts, the bonds revealed
And open up what once was sealed
With crimson lips and polar lights
To carry you through many nights.
But now it seems it was not wise
To falter water from your eyes.
For now that crimson lips are sealed
And light escapes across the field,
The darkness breaks between the shards
Of corroded iron falling hard
Upon the godly royal seal
That held up high a fist ideal.
The palm lays open on the floor
Of what was once a single door
To all that was and what would be
Within your life's eternity.
But looking now upon the ground
These little shards don't make a sound
As one by one they fall so neat
In subtle patterns at your feet
To spell out words upon the stone -
"For all your tears, you are alone."
heres a really good poem that steve small wrote, he says it was a 40 minute venting poem, and ijust had to put it up here, with his permission of course. i see the connections, thanks steve :). It's called "Interpretation"
A crimson smile that lures you deep
And captures hunger, heart, and sleep
Inside a hand that holds so tight
The voids of darkness and the light.
So statuesque it may appeal
Upon the godly royal seal
To have so fine a crafter's gift
Of solid iron's mighty fist,
But given time and all the tears
Built up upon by many years
Give way to anger, hate and spite
Corroding iron's candelight.
The metal welts, the bonds revealed
And open up what once was sealed
With crimson lips and polar lights
To carry you through many nights.
But now it seems it was not wise
To falter water from your eyes.
For now that crimson lips are sealed
And light escapes across the field,
The darkness breaks between the shards
Of corroded iron falling hard
Upon the godly royal seal
That held up high a fist ideal.
The palm lays open on the floor
Of what was once a single door
To all that was and what would be
Within your life's eternity.
But looking now upon the ground
These little shards don't make a sound
As one by one they fall so neat
In subtle patterns at your feet
To spell out words upon the stone -
"For all your tears, you are alone."