GuiltyConscience• Show poetry

Hi, my name is Samantha. Most people - especially my friends - call me Sam.

I was born in Mombassa, Kenya (I AM NOT AFRICAN). I moved to Cambridge, England, UK when I was maybe 2 or 3 months old? - Not too sure about that one. Anyway, I now live in New Zealand. I've been here for about 9 years now. Hated the move. Always think about what it would have been like if I didn't come here, what I would have been like. Yeah...

I hate English at school but I kinda want to be a writer so I guess I'll just have to endure it. But when I finally become a well-known, famous writer, I'll just think back to all the constructive criticism I recieved here hahaa...


~ But without you I'd rather die
Than live another f***ing lie. ~


* I don't know what hurts you
But I can feel it too
And it just hurts so much
To know that I can't do a thing
And deep down in my heart
Somehow I just know
That no matter what
I'll always love you

So why am I still here in the rain? *
~ Yiruma - Kiss The Rain ~


~ Even heaven is hell without you. ~


~ Please don't break this --> <3 ~


~ What got me into this mess that devoured me? ~


* Maybe if my heart stops beating, it won't hurt this much *
~ Paramore - Never Let This Go ~

* Ignorance is your new best friend *
~ Paramore - Ignorance ~


* And it's obvious that your dying, dying.
Just living proof that the camera's lying.
And oh oh open wide, 'cause this is your night.
So smile, 'cause you'll go out in style.
You'll go out in style *
~ Paramore - Fences ~


~ Community and hope and help would replace secrets and silence ~


~ To Write Love On Her Arms (TWLOHA) ~


~ Sing, always, even if you don't think you can, because if you believe it, you can! Even if you're the only one listening. Music is a universal language that communicates beyond what we as mere humans can conceive. Love, light and peace! ~


* Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words. *
~ Paul Engle ~


* Water still flows downhill and falls off mountains;
if time is a disease, memories are its symptoms. *
~ Whitney Leininger ~