"My dream"

Well, yes, i am sorry. I didn't mean to say that stuff to you guys on my blog. Can we forget about it now?

From now on, I will put it in my poetry whenever I want to get out with my rage, then put it in here to get views.

Well, This is the poem I call "My dream". It's about a girl who doesn't see life fully without sacrifice. It sorta explains my points. DO NOT BE ALARMED, FOR I WRITE THIS KIND OF POETRY SOMETIMES. DO NOT BE ALARMED WITH THE CONTENTS IN THIS POEM. I WILL not GO SUICIDE... why the Bloit do I have to even say that?!

(clears throat violently)
Ahem?
(Spotlight shines on)
Thank you.

My dream

- I am alone in my room,
my cold, dark room,
my old, lonely, undaunting room,
with but a shadow of light to keep me sane.
- Tears rest on my cheeks,
resting there, peacefully,
as my tears begin to bleed,
brake, and run down, peacefully, blissfully and painless.
-I lay in my bed,
my warm, soft bed,
The only comfort in Miles,
as more tears flow down.
- As they flow, no pause, no mourn,
like the thoughts of my past,
passing the burden with no thought of grief,
no regard of the suffering i've brought on myself.
- Not knowing quite why,
as no one truly does,
I glance to the mirrors, the mirror,
to find myself, all but happy?
- Just to look at my eyes,
to find myself, no love behind the tears,
this burden i've placed on myself,
as if anyone, someone, truly cared?
- I stand out of bed,
my last shred of comfort,
into the shadow of light,
from the open window, moon a full.
- gaining my posture, crumbled as it was,
I head toward the kitchen,
to where I head toward the drawer,
Whereth I pull out a knife.
- The reflection of this beauty,
the stainless steel mirror,
showing nothing more than a young misfit,
whom by all is ridiculed.
-I look at her eyes,
no love, no peace, but surrender,
sacrifice, pain, tears are no more blissful,
now remourceful, pitiful, and humiliating.
(now remember that I am NOT going to go suicide in real life, I just write some pretty sad stuff)
- The cut was thrilling, painless to my numbed corpes,
the wrist no more a paleness, but now a bright red vigor,
more deserving than all of those at school who ridiculed her,
that woman in the mirror, her happiness, now a dream.
- As I lay in my bed, tearful and scared,
the tears, the only comfort, my cheeks embracing their being,
as the light, the brightening light, turns to day,
and as I get ready for school, for the next treatment I deserve,
the dream fades away, and hell reigns again.

... well? comment, comment!
I'll be waiting at school... or next time I log in to this.
HEHeHE