Beyond this peircing pain,
Of cutting my vein,
What can I do? ,
Besides loving you.
...
Standing on the edge afraid to fall,
Wondering if your life really mattered at all.
...
Once more you tell me lies,
As my love for you dies.
Why can't you be honest with me,
When I tried to be.
...
This blood on my hands,
Is something I regret.
This love for you I cannot forget,
Your love is worth more than money can bet.
...
I sleep among unearthed corpses,
Dreaming of riding skeleton horses.
Unto the shadows I'm born again,
To bring destruction and pain among men.
...
This love so open,
I share her pain.
By my death would leave a stain.
This love so blank,
...
Have you realized your love,
Is it not what wanted.
Having someone to think of
Has left you haunted.
...
Day, night, and daylight.
Everyday, everynight terrible hauntings show their light.
Morning dew, night heat,
and terrified whispers underneath my feet.
...
The murder was questioned,
And names were mentioned;
Yet your murder was a mystery.
Madness and obliteration,
...
Blood stained cries,
but to know only lies.
Murder scene destruction,
memories are only an obstruction.
...
'Tis a dream of a murderous plot,
Or a dream is not.
I'm to remember the before,
When his blood was spilled on my floor.
...
How to describe,
The tale when she died.
Running from him,
The evil within.
...
With the full moon high in the sky;
Pictures of memories run through my mind.
Pain, Hurt, Love and Hate;
All The same shame.
...
Somehow I know I'm haunted to be wanted,
What of this unwanted love.
Sometimes I feel I've got get away from you,
The pain of knife you drove right through.
...
Behind the masks are shadowed lives,
Evil, hatred, and murders arise.
Children, men, and women cry,
As they watch their loved ones die.
...
Looking through this shattered glass,
Distant times and memories pass.
Only this may bring good charm,
Where fear and doubt will bring you harm.
...
My Name is Blanche Hardin. I am from Bakersfield, California. Im 21. I have written poetry since 7th grade when i wrote my first poem, 'Die Poetic'. i love writing and art and the uniqueness of The Scribe. Add me on facebook. Blanche Bio Shockxz Hardin.)
Why Me? , Why This?
Beyond this peircing pain,
Of cutting my vein,
What can I do? ,
Besides loving you.
A little more I get weaker,
Pouring his blood in a beaker.
the drinking of blood makes me stronger,
What I've wanted takes longer.
Love is what I'm far from,
Hating you until it is done.