Kelsea Osterman Poems

I walk a path that has no end.
It seems to go on and on.
Never comes to an end
and has no light.
...

Taken from me and returned to our mother Hera.
You were my brothers by blood and at heart.
And now you lay separate,
Only one is allowed to return to the heavens,
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I hate the way you can look at me
and I get lost in your gaze.
I hate the way you can see past
my looks and see who I really am.
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You are but a young girl.
A sweet little girl.
Yet you hold my heart.
And you hold my soul.
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Is what I am so bad?
Is being pure so bad that I get mocked
Is being who I am what makes me so different
Because I don’t follow what everyone else does?
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The last of the group is a teacher.
A history teacher to be in fact.
And I know many hate the study of history,
But there are some who just love his classes.
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I love you is all want to say to you.
I do I do love you, sure it took some time but I know now that I really do.
I love you with all the little tiny fragments of my broken heart.
But no now that I want you, you want nothing, nothing to do with me.
...

One day I'll leave you a black rose on your door step.
You'll see it every where you go.
No matter where you hide it, it will always find you.
I hope it brings back the memories of you and I.
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I never thought you could hurt me.
I thought I closed the iron gates after the last one left.
But yet again you proved me wrong.
Ha silly me.
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it is but a simple thing.
This thing we call life.
We hold it so dear yet means nothing to me.
What is this thing we call life.
...