I believe writing poetry for me is an escape. I write when I'm sad or depressed. I can't really say that I write when I'm happy because I just don't see the point in it. I think, 'I'm happy. Why mess with it? ' That was hard for me to be, happy. Living with an abusive father and step-mother took its toll on me these past three years. I was one of the lucky ones and got out. I only lived with my father because my mother passed when I was six from a car accident. It was a devastating thing to go through, but I'm here today, alive and well. It really didn't get to me until I was about nine or so. That's when I realized she was never coming back and I was alone. My dad wasn't with this woman since I moved in. You see, he had women in and out of the house. So, you can imagine it was very unstable for a child of six who had just lost her mother. Doesn't it sound funny though? Lost her mother. It's as if she misplaced her or something. Other things went on inside the house and out as well. Some a little embarassing to write about and some I wouldn't dare tell anyone outside my home. So to all who are reading this, this doesn't even begin to describe all the major tragedies in my life, but maybe you'll read it and think yours is a little better.
What's the use of living life
When it's not worth living?
I just don't see the point
My heart is tired of giving.
...
The pain crashes to the depth of my soul
Just another feeling of sorrow
Another flinch from pain
Just like yesterday, it'll be there tomorrow
...
The flames that scorch
They're near the fire
It's just like a torch
My feelings expire
...
I need you more than the sun itself
I need your hand touching mine
I need your beautiful voice
Just your smile shows me it’s a sign
...
I am your confusion
I don't mean to be
I'm right in front of you
But you cannot see
...