Here it sits. A blank something for me to fill with nothing. I look at the little line that makes letters magically (maybe) appear on the page, and it seems so impatient, almost screaming for me to write before it blows everything up. Like a time bomb, ticking, waiting for me to decide the fate of... what?
Hi.
I am Marissa.
But only a few know if that is really my name.
After all, here on the internet, everyone
Is faceless, nameless, heartless
And only a few (The beautiful few)
Are who they say they are
My name is not Fallen Too Far, because what stupid retard would name their kid
Some depressing emo name
And still be normal?
But I have to use it because if I don't,
If I show the world who I am
Chances are, (And they are very high)
Someone will use it to fulfill some dark pleasure
And I am a girl (Woman?)
Who has the right to say
What the Hell? ?
And
Why the Hell? ?
And
Get the Hell Out of Here! !
...Don't look at me that way. I understand what Im saying. So I guess that's all that matters.
I am defiant.
I am indifferent.
I am in love.
I am alive.
I am irreplacable.
I am untainted.
I am me.
The End
The king sat in his silver bathtub one morning
And he realized, as he soaked in the soft bubbles
That you can not rule your kingdom from a silver bathtub
...
upon the arrival of the blinding sun
the earth drops thankfully into a rapid darkness
descending into the orbit of another godless mindset
obscenely unaware of a moral genocide
...
Words strung up in lines
Like Parisian lights
[Not to see, but to know]
In shining order
...
Weak, torn branches sacrifice the last of their crimson
Yielding a puddle of rainbows, collapsed from the canopy
Overhead, leaving only a bleak bleached sky
Dotted with the occasional bird or irregular airplane and
...
We the poets are roamers
Homeless in our skin
Always searching, frantic
For the words that lie within
...