You call it madness, but I call it love.
Things cannot describe it... it's that feeling I get whenever I enter the school for the first time everyday. Pure hate revolves around the main feeling, making it this powerful force which cannot be penetrated with any normal weapon. A bullet could go through me, but it would not stop the feeling. The feeling so many seem to wonder about, so many want to help, but cannot when the person holding the feeling will not accept the help. So what is this feeling? Dismal... maybe, but not quite. Desolate... a beautiful term that could describe it at it's weakest point, but not good enough. Possibly, a dire need to feel wanted... when so many lie to tell you you're wanted. You're smart, you can be whatever you want, but do you know it's true? No. No one knows the truth... no one can foresee this hellish future that we try to carve out to be "nice" for our children when our parents screwed it up so bad there's no fucking way we can possibly make it any better... or worse for that matter. War is among us, terror is out there... rapists, murderers, and even police officers will deny you the truth as long as it saves you from a little bit of hurt.
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Last seen on Nov 2 3:39 AM.
Member since March 26.
- I'm a emerald dog poet for 6 comments.
- I am a
15 year old
girl
from Indiana (United States)
- When I'm not writing, I'm attempting to keep peace between the few I care about..
 - I am in the groups the power of darkness
- I have 6 comments, 11 poems
My Poetry
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A silent slumber of innocence, easily washed away
Wicked dreams of chaos to keep down the pain
25 lines,
April 29
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All answers will be received tonight
I'm done with this happiness and love of life
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The smell of death encased the man's clothes
An era of foreplay triggering memories from before
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But light from the sun can melt you into place.
The sinful knife shines as moonlight hits its blade.
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