Darksadness• Show poetry

I can only what I feel at that moment, find it hard to write something that I do not feel, but I can do it, but then I feel like a liar.

Sadly I must admit that I'm inspired by tragedy in my life for the most part.
Other inspirations come from the hope of a better world for all of us.

I believe that God has a master plan, I just try to figure it out before I'm supposed to know what it is.

My one biggest fear is that I will die before I accomplish my one great act that I would be remembered for.

As I grow older I see things in a different light and for that I have to thank God.

Through words I have died a hundred times, I use poetry as an outlet, its a part of me that I have learn to express myself in. Its better that way, because the feelings that haunt me everyday can be scary at times.

I make people laugh at will, but yet they never notice that I'm not laughing with them, its a defense mechanism that I use when I'm getting more depressed.

Depression is a scary thing, no horror movie can compare to the horrors in ones mind it just cannot be directed. written by: Irvin Gonzalez

I'm a survivor, I almost let depression take me into a place where there is no light, but through help I got out.

During that time I put my body through a physical hell that I now pay for, I hid my pain through over eating, over working, doing things that I just that I had to do, I'm still paining for them.

Again I have to thank God for what i call a gift, the words have helped me so much that I cannot actually express the feeling oddly enough.



Poem lyrics of A Prayer For My Daughter by William Butler Yeats.

Once more the storm is howling, and half hid
Under this cradle-hood and coverlid
My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle
But Gregory's wood and one bare hill
Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind.
Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;
And for an hour I have walked and prayed
Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.
I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour
And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,
And-under the arches of the bridge, and scream
In the elms above the flooded stream;
Imagining in excited reverie
That the future years had come,
Dancing to a frenzied drum,
Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.
May she be granted beauty and yet not
Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,
Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,
Being made beautiful overmuch,
Consider beauty a sufficient end,
Lose natural kindness and maybe
The heart-revealing intimacy
That chooses right, and never find a friend.
Helen being chosen found life flat and dull
And later had much trouble from a fool,
While that great Queen, that rose out of the spray,
Being fatherless could have her way
Yet chose a bandy-legged smith for man.
It's certain that fine women eat
A crazy salad with their meat
Whereby the Horn of plenty is undone.
In courtesy I'd have her chiefly learned;
Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned
By those that are not entirely beautiful;
Yet many, that have played the fool
For beauty's very self, has charm made wise.
And many a poor man that has roved,
Loved and thought himself beloved,
From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.




WHAT IS AN ABORTION?
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JUST A LEGAL WAY TO COMMIT MURDER.

written by:
Me


If a girl stands naked in front of you and says she doesn't want too, Damn its still rape if you try.



If people would stop teaching hate, we would never have to learn a definition for love.