an idea while in the park. I always felt like I could fly...

with the sky

going so fast I scare myself . . .trying to get to where I want to go . . .

is only human. isn't that one of the most complicated things on this earth? our actions? humans are truly odd . . .

i hate being human.

there is only gray. why do people try to remain pure when things are never really one shade?

I thought I let go of someone. but I didn't. and it affected someone else.

of my life.

can that be done?

for a muse.

me.

from this blind fog: hope.

"I want your love . . ."

to live and write.

so I won't remember whom I love.

the words are easily lost. like losing love.

of writing. losing those perfect ideas and hoping they will come back again.

to love for pain

a friendship dying.

should've known pain would come . . .

inside life.

from you . . .and me.

once more.

on how to say 'i love you' just a phone call away, waiting, such hope never felt before. half of it written at 1 a.m. for terrence.

All someone's been through, asking for only one thing: love. And how I want to give it. For Terrence.

Loving someone so far away and what for? Does it matter? For zel.

Being in love with the perfect image of a boy. Not easy when he is so far and you cannot find anyone like him at all. for zel.

This is NOT a cute, political-driven poem that loves this country. I wrote about what so many people don't want to accept because they fear bad evil negative. Sad. Flame, but it won't change reality.

Second sonnet. About someone's wish, romantic again. r/r.

First sonnet. A heart has one lost plea for the one it loves. Fixed.

No, it is not Halloween. Today is the Day of the Dead in Mexico. That is the only celebration I actually like. This is a short poem about it. I am not really satisfied with it. r/r

Hard to say what it exactly is about, except the fact that it tells of a dead living girl (and no, it is not some metaphor of me).

Dear Death . . . This poem is simply a letter to what we call death. (wow) anyway, I need to look over it and stuff. to lee & zel (like he cares) r/r

This is for communications class: an essay about a philosophical idea. Written to lampoon my stepfather. r/r

I wrote this for Communications class! It's another poem based on family. Meaning, it's about the death of my father. r/r (note: complete title is too long. this needs revision of content, but I couldn't wait to post it ^_^')

Dreaming of a wonderful night with the soul you love . . . (This is not inappropriate writing, in case you wonder.)

Love is not like in the fairytales; happy endings with a prince and princess. To Lee-chan

This is what I was really writing that day when I got to stay in your room and I wasn't feeling well, Lee-chan. About what I wish that could be said.

It is not a good poem. . .I dunno. . .'Bout the evil in this world and what it does to souls...r/r...

I am now into writing (quote) romantic poetry (end of quote) - again.

To people who will never allow love.

A better version of Broken (it's written differently though). About how I cut, tried to get up, fell again and where I am now. For Lee.

Personal meaning. It's how I feel and such about when I got help but then I knew it wouldn't turn out right because it's not supposed to happen...I can't summarize it correctly. Just r/r please.

During the cold night, a person gets lost in the empty world.

Err . . .It's kind of personal. All you need to know is that this is how I feel when *ahem* some people keep you from what you want.

aka - betrayed.

Another dumb, stupid [insert synonym here] poem. Being a voodoo doll is not fun.

Watching down below, looking at the street. . .warning: you should know what's coming. . .

A late September 11 poem.

To sacrifice the wish of having that one person back.

Please take the warning of the rating seriously (or w/e). Suicidal and cutting stuff . . . and a shadow.

Okie! I has tried to keep my Spanish alive! ^__^ Ventanas estan por todos lados. Y en nosotros tanbien. (??!!) r/r!

[Redone] Hylia is 13. She hates everything and she cuts. There's no one that can help her . . . Except for a young and mysterious man named Reynald.

You're in the middle of the ocean. Alone.

[Hump, parental guidance...] NEway, it IS very awkward but....Dear parents, plz stop hitting your children. r/r

Abuse. A little boy. What else is there to say?

Redone poem Blood. I hope it pleases the people *ahem* that kept saying something about it.

One minute it's white, the next, you're red.

Another haiku. When we go outside - away from the city that is - wouldn't it be nice to hear nature?

A better genre would be nature! Somebody tell the ff.net ppl! *looks around nerviously* Me? Naw! erg...This poem is 'bout when the full moon comes....r/r

K. Erg....Depressed...yesterday....Oh well. Lullaby, please make me sleep.

K. Depressing. Death/suicide. Bout it. r/r

Aly questions a friend's brother, Doni, about Christianity one night. To all the (quote) heathens/pagans/sinners/whatever that hate Christ! (or simply dislike it ^_^''')

It's not the death of a friend, it's death of a friendship because of...stuff...

I think I don't need to summarize it that well. Someone's....well, haunted. Yet, it's not by ghosts...

It's pretty obvious that it's about a father. The thing is it's about MY daddy; not just any father out there. r/r plz.

Short. Cutting is not just about bleeding.

Sweet pain. . . Small but ok. For zel.

If you could ask a firefly to teach you some thing, what would it be? r/r

Death. A friend, pain . . .too much. Based on Dido's song [Isobel]. For my best friend, Thalia. Merry Christmas.

This is my own song (or whatever) that could relate to Blink182's Stay Together For the Kids...r/r

This sweet poem is about....the holidays....I do like this guy, and I came up with a way to make it (quote) funny. r/r

You just can't stop loving even if you have been hurt. Don't deny!

Anger, just like what? Some metaphor......

The word death.....

(Couldn't think of a better genre) Have you been there? To the Place?

Well, yeah, it's (quote) poetic. Leaves, they are so in a rush!

One night you find out and wonder endlessly why, but you realize that does not matter.

This person found out that...well, read to know.

It's angst mainly because the thought for one is just upsetting . . .

It's the original I'm-in-love-but-I'm-not-loved-back thing.

Anyone with guilt ought to leave something behind....