So, for my birthday, I got a notebook. I had no idea what I wanted to do with this notebook, but then I decided I would fill it with my own literature. I started writing my poems in it, and short stories, but then it turned out to sort of help me channel my thoughts and simply write about life. Yeah, most of you would call that a diary, but it totally isn't. Anyways, I wanted to copy some stuff down on the computer and wanted to post them on blogger, so... yeah. (YAY FOR LONG BLOG POST!) Warning: Some of these poems/notes make absolutely no sense or don't even rhyme. I wasn't really paying attention to what exactly I was writing :P
What am I?
What do you see when you look at me?
Am I a stranger to you in this world,
Or something more?
If I came to you, would you shut the door in my face?
If I tried to get closer to you,
Would you push me away?
What am I to you?
The smoke is thick, covering my eyes.
It's toxic, filling my lungs with filth.
I want to scream out, but I only manage to cough.
I'm blind, my eyes are stinging, my throat closing.
I try to find my way through this hell,
To get back to my sanctuary.
I battle with the smoke, losing my strength,
Thinking that my efforts are useless.
Where did this smoke come from?
Where is the fire? Does it even exist?
I'm searching for answers, my mind is storming,
And I finally figure it out.
The smoke begins to clear, I'm starting to breathe,
I'm not in any pain.
It turns out this smoke was something different.
...It was only confusion.
All these sensations
Too confusing to bear,
I keep looking for you,
But you're never there.
I try to control my feelings,
But I simply cannot,
Why can't I have a button
That has the option "Stop"?
Just give me a minute,
That's all I'm asking for.
A second to gather my thoughts,
To stop asking for more.
Stop me from drowning,
Give me a chance to sleep.
I am a poet
I am a poet,
Though not all things rhyme,
A master of words,
The twister of time.
I create things with my paper and pen,
I make people remember again.
I can create worlds,
And tear them down with ease.
I can write about you,
And you will do as I please.
So be weary of a poet,
The rhymer of words,
The joker of life.
Their pens don't only create words,
They also work well as a knife.
Almost everyone has someone to show their affection to, even if the other person doesn't know it. People do crazy things for so-called "love". They try to get the other person's attention, and give them little hints that they care about them. They dream. They dream that someday those two people will be together. Sometimes, you're too nervous to even talk to them, but you show your affection in different ways. But... What if that person that you "love" says something about you and they have no idea that you heard? It brings your hopes down... You force yourself to keep trying to win them over, to try even harder. But now, when you look at them, it somehow feels wrong. As if you're having second thoughts on whether you even have feelings for them. You feel like you've spent all your affection and you have nothing to hold on to. A stupid comment of "She's too tall for me" did that to me.
Get back up
If you fall, get back up.
You must stand tall and search for luck.
Don not dwell on things passed by,
Don't look back, because time flies.
Try your best, be prepared,
Do some things you've never dared.
Get back up, don't fall down,
You must smile instead of frown.
When the rain is pouring,
And you want to quit,
Think of your goal,
Make it fit.
Work hard for what you want,
Don't give up or get second thoughts.
Just get back up.
Sadly, that's all I've managed to write in it so far. I'm bored. And these poems aren't that great. Blagh. I just wanted to write. Anyways, there we go. I'm happy now. Actually, I wanna go for a walk. Then I'll be happy.