More poems for you!!
Well guys, here's some poems I've written. Mostly from a couple of months ago, and I just fancy posting them...
Nothing.
I don't want my life,
but I don't want to die,
It's not in me to laugh,
and I've no tears to cry.
I don't want to scream,
I don't want to shout,
There's nothing I want
'cause I'm going without.
I'm fed up of me,
I'm sick of myself,
all I can think of
is ruining my health.
I don't want to be strong,
I want to be weak,
but I want to stay strong,
I don't know which way to think.
There's nothing inside me
I'm numb, blank and dead,
yet there's a thousand things
that spin round my head.
Am I living or not?
I can't tell what is real,
all I'm aware of is
the nothing I feel.
The words aren't forming
so I can't get it out
but everything around me
I'm starting to doubt.
I've no interest in anything,
no words people say,
nothing it seems
can touch me today.
I don't want to live,
I don't want to walk,
I don't want to hurt you
I just simply can't talk.
I'm scared every morning
before I get out of bed,
I just want to cut and get pissed out my head.
To drown in the liquor
gets me out of all this,
nothing makes me better
not a hug nor a kiss.
I'm just empty and here
and in pain and upset,
I can't shift the thought of
"I''d be better off dead".
I want to be free,
to have a new face,
to be with my Saviour
in that glorious place.
I know I could do it
I don't doubt that at all,
I'll be all by myself
and silently fall.
So with a pint glass of water,
paracetamol too,
look into my numb eyes;
tell me, what should I do?
25/08/04.
Please don't read if you're not wanting to get triggered,it's just summat I wrote the other night...
Cut my throat and let me die
Leave me alone so I can cry.
Give me the pills to let me go
I’ve done it before and nobody knows.
Hack my arms up and let them bleed
Then from tiredness and tears I can be freed.
Help me to fight and stay strong for us all
So I can be there when somebody calls.
Allow me this to give in just tonight
Then when tomorrow comes once more will I fight.
I don’t want to give up or give in forever
Just for now I want to find my own piece of Heaven.
A moment of bliss where it all goes away
The pain that will help me to get through the day.
I don’t want to die, but living is hard
At least in Heaven I’ll no longer be scarred.
Take me to the place where His glory falls
Where nobody hurts and nobody crawls.
Where everyone stands and raises their chin
And no-one remembers the pain they were in.
If I can’t die (and I can’t)…nor do I want
Then just give me some rest where my fears won’t haunt.
Where for only one evening I’ll forget that I prayed
The answer is clear - please hand me my blade.
18/12/04.
Poppy Day.
Green fields, shining gold with the summer sun.
The soft grass gently swaying with the cool breeze.
Scorching hot outside.
The only noise is the shrill call of each bird,
the humming of bees, the distant train.
July.
Gradually, scarlet poppies cover the meadows,
each one dazzlingly bright, scattered all over.
Flawing the landscape is this beautiful red.
Significant.
Symbolising each soul lost at war, each tear shed for the lost
now represented in this blood red flower.
White sheets; freshly cleaned, cooling in the heat of summer nights.
The bright white cotton gently caressing my aching body.
Deathly cold inside.
The only noise is the hoot of the owl,
cats scavenging around the steal bins, the buzz of a far away tram.
December.
Gradually, scarlet tears cover the snow.
Each one thick with sorrow, dotted all over.
Destroying the white is this beautiful red.
Tragic.
Each ounce of pain felt, each cry for help unheard
represented by this blood red flower.
The sickening beauty of my own poppy day,
when another figure passed, this way.
15/07/04.
Nothing.
I don't want my life,
but I don't want to die,
It's not in me to laugh,
and I've no tears to cry.
I don't want to scream,
I don't want to shout,
There's nothing I want
'cause I'm going without.
I'm fed up of me,
I'm sick of myself,
all I can think of
is ruining my health.
I don't want to be strong,
I want to be weak,
but I want to stay strong,
I don't know which way to think.
There's nothing inside me
I'm numb, blank and dead,
yet there's a thousand things
that spin round my head.
Am I living or not?
I can't tell what is real,
all I'm aware of is
the nothing I feel.
The words aren't forming
so I can't get it out
but everything around me
I'm starting to doubt.
I've no interest in anything,
no words people say,
nothing it seems
can touch me today.
I don't want to live,
I don't want to walk,
I don't want to hurt you
I just simply can't talk.
I'm scared every morning
before I get out of bed,
I just want to cut and get pissed out my head.
To drown in the liquor
gets me out of all this,
nothing makes me better
not a hug nor a kiss.
I'm just empty and here
and in pain and upset,
I can't shift the thought of
"I''d be better off dead".
I want to be free,
to have a new face,
to be with my Saviour
in that glorious place.
I know I could do it
I don't doubt that at all,
I'll be all by myself
and silently fall.
So with a pint glass of water,
paracetamol too,
look into my numb eyes;
tell me, what should I do?
25/08/04.
Please don't read if you're not wanting to get triggered,it's just summat I wrote the other night...
Cut my throat and let me die
Leave me alone so I can cry.
Give me the pills to let me go
I’ve done it before and nobody knows.
Hack my arms up and let them bleed
Then from tiredness and tears I can be freed.
Help me to fight and stay strong for us all
So I can be there when somebody calls.
Allow me this to give in just tonight
Then when tomorrow comes once more will I fight.
I don’t want to give up or give in forever
Just for now I want to find my own piece of Heaven.
A moment of bliss where it all goes away
The pain that will help me to get through the day.
I don’t want to die, but living is hard
At least in Heaven I’ll no longer be scarred.
Take me to the place where His glory falls
Where nobody hurts and nobody crawls.
Where everyone stands and raises their chin
And no-one remembers the pain they were in.
If I can’t die (and I can’t)…nor do I want
Then just give me some rest where my fears won’t haunt.
Where for only one evening I’ll forget that I prayed
The answer is clear - please hand me my blade.
18/12/04.
Poppy Day.
Green fields, shining gold with the summer sun.
The soft grass gently swaying with the cool breeze.
Scorching hot outside.
The only noise is the shrill call of each bird,
the humming of bees, the distant train.
July.
Gradually, scarlet poppies cover the meadows,
each one dazzlingly bright, scattered all over.
Flawing the landscape is this beautiful red.
Significant.
Symbolising each soul lost at war, each tear shed for the lost
now represented in this blood red flower.
White sheets; freshly cleaned, cooling in the heat of summer nights.
The bright white cotton gently caressing my aching body.
Deathly cold inside.
The only noise is the hoot of the owl,
cats scavenging around the steal bins, the buzz of a far away tram.
December.
Gradually, scarlet tears cover the snow.
Each one thick with sorrow, dotted all over.
Destroying the white is this beautiful red.
Tragic.
Each ounce of pain felt, each cry for help unheard
represented by this blood red flower.
The sickening beauty of my own poppy day,
when another figure passed, this way.
15/07/04.