Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Death Girl.
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This poem is written by emi.

You see her smiling,you see her jumping around,
You see her laughing insanely,uncontrollably,
She dances around,she prances,she hops,
Lyrics of songs are the only association she truly makes,
She was never happy,her life was one whole fantasy she made up,
A story she presumed.

But a very different story it seems,
returning home,spare me,she hides in a little corner,
Her smiles are gone,the music stopped,reality returns upon her head,
She asks herself why it all happened,she was out of control,yes she was,
She picked up the knife,with the satisfying blades,the sharp edges which poked her with such satisfaction,
Ran it through her skin,it felt so right,her personal haven of comfort,
She felt whole again,

Drip drop,drip drop,the rain?No,it was the maroons.
Bloody little streams flooded,red was her favourite,
She took her only possession again,
The one and only irreplaceable weapon,replacing the words she could never fill,
Words she would never say to anyone,nobody seemed to be there,
nobody seemed to CARE.

Her wounds stayed put,just like little threads sewed onto her,forever.
Remnants of the beautiful,now ruined,
Draped within her,dead flesh,snip,snip,snip.
The mortal inside could never be revived,she realised,
Emotional,brutal,blood vessels cut off,
Just like the wires of telephone cords,never to be connected again.

Then,it was another rainy day,her birthday.
She thought about her life,how it really was,
Through her play directed by her heart,
Longingly,she desired,the impossible,reigned,
Yet,she stared out the window,envying the freedom of the raindrops,
Her blood trickled and filled her room,
Her tears joined them,united in the bloom,
She slit,

Goodbye to the world,
Adieu to those shattered pieces,
Her echoes still filled the room with her last pieces,
Gruelling cries,mysterious yells,and,
A blood-flooded bed.
At night,at eight o clock,
Goodbye she had bade,
For her wrists were cut,her feelings fade,
Her dreams washed down,down the drain

The death girl looked into the mirror,
Murder had occurred that very night,
The night the knife had driven down through her,
was the night her blood found new meaning,
She wrote her last letter,and shed her last tears,
On her deathbed she lay,where she hid her utmost fears,
The room,surrounded by a red enigma,
She slept,and it all became a blur,
Goodnight;

7:15 AM

`____mellisais productions-   Â©2005-2006





blog
this is a place where we compose poems and whatever we want. if you don't like it, DON'T READ IT.

the composers
melissa - elisabeth
mel/lissa - lisais
18 - 18
chij st.j - sphs

hotmail:
mel.isforreal - peachypeachypeach

aim:
n/a - whheex

gmail: thebeautiful.letdown@gmail.com - n/a

domains
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lisais

previous compositions
- Jewels Of Heaven
- A Notorious Dedication-
- A silent Requiem-
- Extraterrestrial
- Superficial.
- Ode to a sad christmas.
- The Mutilation.
- hypocrisy.
- boreddee
- RENOVATED!


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credits
skin layout - rach