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One of my friends suggested I should start wrinting poetry again. So, I guess I'll start typing it in my journal sense the papers get scattered around my room. gonk

BROKEN HEART

Those who call a broken heart a metaphore, have never had a broken heart before. The way it drops to the bottom of your chest and stops with a desperate rest. Before the heart began to break and crack, all memories worth keeping turn to white and black. After all these years of being so confused, I truely feel abused. As pieces of my heart break and shatter on the floor, it leaves me to feel love... nevermore.

to Tyree: SYMPLICITY

I live a life of no anger or fear and never must I shead a tear. My way may seem rouge, but correct to me, for I use symplicity as my key.

to Lenora: PURPLE DREAM
Purple is the color of my emotions, all shades of disire and devotion. I've had thoughts as a girl to live in a world and i would be their purple queen! This is my purple dream.

AUTUM BREEZE:

I shall no longer feel sorrow or pain just the empty thoughts of a man who's been slain. I smile as I fall to my knees knowing I'll be taken home by the autum breeze.