Puddeloftears• Show poetry

*WARNING: You read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your actions.*




































I write slightly depressing stuff, but it perks me up. which is funny, cuz i hate perkiness. i'm terrible when it comes to friends, so i mainly say everything in my writing. it usually involves death, darkness, blood, pain, the usual stuff for me. i have come to a conclusion about me. it's very interesting. if you want to know, write me. then i'll tell you. i don't really feel like writing it here. too many eyes looking.
but i'm pretty much always available to talk. what can i say? i have no life. my aim sn is the same as this sn.


























if you're still reading, thank you for taking an interest. i am 16 and a female. i've been told that i'm good with advice. so i'm here to help if you need any. i'm on the colorguard squad at my hs. it's ok. there are some ppl that i greatly dislike, but what can you do. if you want to read more about me, i have a xanga journal thing. i usually keep that up to date. it's rather interesting. i tend to laugh at it. anyways, it's http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=evilblooddrinkingfairy.  but once again, i warn you before you enter: you will read things that are ... quite personal and ocasionally scary. you enter at your own risk. thanks again. now here's some stuff not by me ... enjoy.

~~~~~~~


The Mirror Girl
by: Brigid Spackman

The Mirror Girl-stares back at me-
With a Look that knows too much
And a Skin that's never felt the Burn
Of a soft-caressing-Touch

She speaks with Lips that smile-and laugh-
But never have been-kissed-
And cries with careful-Countenance-
That never has been missed

The Mirror Girl is cold and crystal-
Hard enough to feel-
But who is to say, on the other Side,
She's not the One who's real?

The Mirror Girl is a stoic Thing-
That does not pain or ache-
But while I suffer and endure-
The Mirror Girl merely-breaks


~~~~~~~~


Emily Dickinson poems


Much Madness is divinest Sense

Much Madness is divinest Sense-
To a discerning Eye-
Much Sense-the starkest Madness-
'Tis the Majority
In this, as All, prevail-
Assent-and you are sane-
Demur-you're straightway dangerous-
And handled with a Chain-


I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you-Nobody-too?


~~~~~~~


Johnny -

Dear Die-ary,
There's nothing terribly wrong with feeling lost, so long as that feeling precedes some plan on your part to actually do something about it.
Too often a person grows complacent with their disillusionment, perpetually wearing their"discomfort" like a favorite shirt.
I can't say I'm very pleased with where my life is just now...
But I can't help but look forward to where it's going.
---
Dear Die-ary,
The passions that drive us should be the ones we respect and admire.  To feel contempt for one's own motivations is a vulgar thing.
Too often, it seems, I've succumbed to less than admirable compulsions driven by this furiously reprehensible machine of mine.
So many things inside that i can do without - desires and urges and what not.  So extraneous.
By the time I write in this book again, I hope to be as cold as the moon that lights this page.
---
Damn! Hell makes a yummy bagel.
---
Sometimes...
You can cry until there is nothing wet in you.
You can scream and curse to where your throat rebels and ruptures.
You can pray, all you want, to whatever god you think will listen.
And, still, it makes NO difference.
It goes on, with no sign as to when it might release you.
And you know that if it ever did relent...it would not be because it cared.
---
Kids,
Drugs won't help things.  They'll only turn you into a hideous little freak troll-baby with exploding eyeballs.
---
Dear Die-ary,
I stared, motionless, before the mirror. As always, I stayed until I'm convinced that there is no glass, nothing, separating me from the room I see on the other side.
I imagine that everything is different.  Over there.  Better.  There are people in that world, who I would like.
But, like always, my hand hits that glass.
I know that if I'd only waited just one more second...
Shit...
---
Moral: Listen to your naval. (it knows things.)
---
Dear Die-ary,
Today I learned that on the inside I'm pretty fuckin' ugly.
---
Forward (Rob Schrab ) :
"You only feel when you bleed."
Pain is a food.  A food that is essential to the growth of one's soul.
There's a little monster inside all of us, a little wrol-faced monkey that need to be satiated. As people, we mustn't ignore that monster. If we do, we cheat ourselves. We deny an emotion, a feeling.
As humans, we are taught to forget that we are animals.