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Some Horrible Poems Written At MidnightCategory: poemsss
Thursday, 22 December 2011
04:25:08 PM (GMT)
I always can't sleep and then I feel the need to write. 
And everything I write past twelve is always horrible. 
I'll prove it. Read this. ☟☟☟▼▼▼⇓⇓⇓↓↓↓

Paint over
her eyes
Paint over
her mouth
You don't want to see her
So just shut her out
You're sick of her face
and the way that she talks, 
you're sick of her body and 
the way that she walks. 
She goes to your school 
She lives in your house
She sleeps in your bed
She's always about 
You see her in the mirror
You see her in your shadow
You want her to leave or
at least move to Colorado. 

(THAT was the WORST poem I have EVER wrote. Thank you.)

Same time, every night
the illusion of morning
before the sun rises
everyone's said what they think 
I need to hear
but the only lesson I've learned
is that life is always unclear 
and of everyone who's hurt you
the only one who matters 
is you

no on needs to be told
of the myriad of wonders
yet to behold 
if they know how to get out
of a cage
by imagining a door

(I don't know why I think I can write, just shoot me, please.)

I'm here to apologize
for thinking that I 
understood you.
Dreaming of Heaven
isn't standing at the gates,
after all. 
I'll never see
the sun again
if I don't 
open my eyes now,
but I'm afraid
of endings. 
But I'm here, 
and this is final.
Because the edge
of this rooftop
is the edge 
of the world. 

(I'm really weird.) 

What haunts you, darling? 
What keeps you up at night?
What makes you stand on tip toe and
recite the words
to protect you from the fight?
Don't buy into the games,
the price is your peace. 
Accept the gift you've been given, 

(Insomnia, fuckthewhat?)

Do cat eyes 
watch you from the trees?
Are there creatures lurking
behind the leaves? 
Do you want to sink
into the ground, 
deep down forever,
never found,
to escape all the eyes
that see your every move?
The truth of paranoia is
that no one's watching 
you but you. 

Last edited: 15 April 2013

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