Okay, here's yet another slightly depressing poem written in free verse by me. Just so you know this about the two-line stanzas: the first line is what the person takes, and the second line is what he/she thinks about it. Just read.

Altering everything I say and do.

Twisting me into a lunatic.

You tell others you've figured me out.

I don't speak to you;
I'm silently plotting your murder.

I don't speak as you speak;
I've obviously cracked.

I don't respond to your gripes;
I'm apathetically demented.

I write rather than talk;
I need to be locked up.

They say free verse isn't art;
I can't show expression.

I write while you talk of my lack of sanity;
I'm making my hitlist on my suicide note.

My friends don't meet your standards;
They're not worthy of a second glance.

No miniskirts or bellyshirts in my closet;
I want no chance of romance.

I don't go out every night;
I have no life or will.

My music is real and raw and loud;
I've taken Satin's turn.

I lock myself inside for hours;
I must be a vampire.

You are the vampire.

You suck the life out of me.

You have no right to judge.

You don't know me.

You never will.

Tada. Yet another peice of crap from Angie. So yeah.