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i could paint you a picture,

a work of art,

a picture of pain and tears,

a picture of my heart

i'd dip my paintbrush in my sorrow

and paint you my saddness

i'd use the colour of my anger

and make streaks of maddness

and like a sad picture, you would have to look very hard, to find any happieness, a picket fence or a front yard, you might not find any, but if you do it would be distorted and melancholy, in shades of blue,

but there's a place, i can show u where,

where a saving grace resides there,

where the sun still shines and the shores are clear,

where a trumpet of light sounds and there is no fear,

and when i die, this grace will take me home,

to my mighty fathers palace, where ill no longer feel alone,

and in His mighty company, i will raise my glass,

to the joy that i am home,

and that the pain is past.

you have said that you love him,

but does he love you too?

is ''youré mine'' the same as ''i love you''?

every once in awhile he'll look at you just the way you want him too, but in a flicker that moment is gone, and you're left wondering what went wrong,

he'll have you breathless, he'll take you whole,

hes always wanting you, yet he's still so cold,

he wont get too close, wont let anyone in,

you cant see inside him, because of his second skin,

lying in his arms his hands running down your back

you ask him if he loves you and to answer you with fact, he looks at you and speaks, his eyes sparkling like wíne, ''i adore you, i crave you, ive told you before, youré mine''

wrote this crappy little poem when i was sixteen, lol





insomniac

asleep all day

awake all night

slumber does not come

till the young hours of the light

watching the sun rise

as i lay down my weary head

and when the night duth fall

i lay awake in my bed

COMMENTS

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TheVampyreNico
06:34 Aug 06 2011

Thats very lovely poem sounds like vampires life to me.

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