Diamond in the rough, p.1

Diamond in the Rough, страница 1


Diamond in the Rough

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Diamond in the Rough

  Dedicated to:

  Austin, for always being there for me. My friends and family that have always supported my poetry. And Morgan, for helping me when I have writers block and giving me new ideas. We make one diabolical pair.

  Thank you all so much for being there for me. You all have inspired me to continue writing.


  It doesn’t matter where he is,

  Or how far away he lives,

  I know that he will always be here for me.

  He lives with me, in my heart and soul.

  He would challenge the Heavens to be with me.

  He would aim to freeze Hell just to find me.

  The love of my life, my soul mate and true love,

  Would do anything to hold my hand and kiss my lips.

  The things he says and does,

  The way he will gently hold me close in a hug,

  Always makes my tummy flutter with excitement and love.

  Always making my heart jump and skip a beat.

  My love, always putting a smile on my face;

  He’s always making me laugh at the silliest things.

  I love those nights we stay up,

  Just talking on the phone for hours about why we love each other.

  I love him more than words can describe.

  More than there are stars and sky.

  I love his imperfections.

  He is my sunshine on a rainy day.


  The days grow short,

  as the killings increase.

  The hunters will rise,

  to hear your screams.

  You may hide,

  and you may fight.

  But you cannot escape,

  the hunter's night.

  Red as blood,

  a river flows.

  Beautiful and lovely,

  Like a bleeding rose.

  The days grow short,

  as the killings increase.

  The red river flows,

  carrying your screams.

  For What It’s Worth

  My poetry is both a cry for help,

  And a warning not to get too close.

  Save me from my depression

  But don’t get too emotionally attached.

  Each word, written or typed,

  Each thought of desperation,

  Unsure if I want someone to find me;

  Or to leave me and save themselves from the heartbreak.

  The truth hurts more than the lies.

  The realization hits harder than the imagination.

  Can you handle what I have to say?

  Would you do something about it?

  My poetry is my soul in words.

  My thoughts said aloud.

  My secrets shared,

  And secrets gained.

  Each day it gets harder to lie.

  Each night I wonder if I should speak up.

  To ask for help;

  Or to warn them to stay away.

  No one understands the way I see the world.

  Colors are brighter,

  But the meaning is darker.

  Perhaps that’s just the lie talking.

  There is only one place I cannot lie to anyone.

  In my poetry and my written words,

  I cannot bring myself to do it.

  Because I can’t lie to myself, no matter how much I want to.

  Don’t get attached.

  Live through life pretending.

  Don’t get hurt.

  But is it really worth it?

  Child-Like Innocence

  Memories of innocence and laughter. 

  The smiles of children with soft little giggles. 

  The thin line between innocence and corruption.

  The time between day and night. 

  The cries of an angel shedding her tears in heaven. 

  Each tear, a rain drop on this earth.

  Washing away the dirt and pain. 

  Leaving the world fresh and alive. 

  A child's heart beating gently against their chest, 

  their silent breaths as they sleep in the night. 

  Untainted by the evil that surrounds them. 

  The purity about them that protects the innocent. 

  The fading memory of child-like happiness. 

  The fearlessness inside their eyes as they face new challenges. 

  The angels smiling down to their children, 

  Hoping this innocence and courage lasts.


  Who’d have thought,

  Someone like him,

  Could love a coward like me?

  I’m afraid to lose him.

  I’m afraid to ask certain things.

  I’m afraid of the world.

  I have so many fears.

  I’m a coward.

  I take the blame because I’m afraid.

  I’m afraid of my heart.

  I’m afraid of others being hurt.

  I’m simply afraid.

  He’s told me so many times,

  Why he loves me.

  I’m still surprised.

  How can he love

  A person with so many fears?

  And so many weaknesses?

  Serial Killer

  I feel each drop of rain pounding against my skin.

  The cold that chills my bones to the very core.

  The downfall of angel’s tears,

  Masking the fall of mine.

  The haunting memories of that night.

  My hands are still stained red.

  My heart still broken into a thousand pieces.

  The image of the fear in their eyes burned into my mind.

  But it’s not my fault!

  They should have stayed quiet.

  They didn’t have to die.

  I didn’t mean to lose my temper.

  They were gonna tell on me.

  They saw what I did.

  They knew.

  I had to stop them.

  I close my eyes tightly, blocking out the world around me.

  All I can hear are those blood curdling screams.

  The feel of the knife in my hands,

  I felt safe.

  They walked in at the wrong moment.

  They came in just as the mask came down.

  I was no longer the sweet innocent one they knew.

  I was a killer; a murderer.

  The rain is coming down faster.

  My body is becoming colder with each drop.

  Each motion of the memory is still vivid in my mind.

  Each picture is repeating itself to me.

  I’m sorry.

  They shouldn’t have pulled out their cell.

  They should have helped me move the body.

  I use to call them my friends.

  They knew why I had to do it.

  I couldn’t risk getting caught.

  This was my life.

  They were going to ruin it.

  I just had to rid myself of one person.

  Then it became three.

  It wasn’t my fault.

  I told them not to come over.

  I can still see the blood on my floors.

  I haven’t washed those clothes either.

  Their bodies are all sleeping peacefully in my living room.

  I’m still deciding if I’m keeping them as a trophy or as guilt.

  I trusted them all.

  The first disappointed me.

  The second and third simply didn’t understand.

  It’s their fault.

  I was not on drugs when I did this.

  I’m not drinking as I stand here in the pouring rain.

  I am simply me.

p; I am a serial killer.

  I wonder when people will notice them missing.

  When I will turn them in.

  Or even how I will continue living.

  After all, I’m not at fault.

  Passion Strength


  The race of our hearts as adrenaline rushes through our veins.

  The need to express out desires and concerns.

  To burn away the bridge that lets you go back,

  Back to nothing and the safety of nothing.

  Passion clouds our eyes,

  The eyes that are the windows to our souls.

  Passion filling us with confidence and fire.

  Fire to be strong when we are weak.

  Fire. To say all that we have held back.

  The flame to burn away all doubt and insecurities.


  The strength in our voices as we yell out our words.

  The strength in each word uttered.

  Strength! Strength to be stronger every day.

  The passion in our voice as we sing out our favorite song.

  The reason we say what we say and how we say it.

  Passion for our writing.

  Inspiration around every corner.

  This is passion.

  Welcome to Wonderland

  The Caterpillar sits,

  Smoking away the day.

  Laughing as you struggle,

  Only wanting to run away.

  The Mad Hatter sings,

  To you a happy unbirthday.

  Not the day you were born.

  But the day you will fade.

  His smile appears,

  His body gone.

  He warns you of terror,

  To awake before dawn.

  "Welcome to Wonderland."

  The White Rabbit sneers.

  "I'm late," he says,

  As he leaves you with your fears.

  Now the Queen of Hearts you meet.

  She invites you to play a game.

  Then accuses you of cheating.

  Her temper goes untamed.

  The Cards of her Majesty,

  Drag you away,

  While you curse and scream,

  The Queen caught her prey.

  "Off with their head!"

  The old woman screams.

  Cheers erupt from the audience.

  If only this were a dream.

  The Cheshire Cat lays on the edge,

  Of the mirror between worlds.

  Your life he tries to save.

  But into death you are hurled.

  Welcome to Wonderland.

  The place you will stay.

  Trapped in this nightmare.

  With your life you will pay.

  I Grew Up

  Who am I?

  Who are you to tell me that I can’t do something?

  I am who I am and I will do what I want to do.

  You know, I grew up with a loving family, surrounded by friends.

  I grew up writing every day and reading a book at night.

  I grew up! I grew up scare of who I will become.

  Who I might be when I am nothing.

  I lived my life scared that I will lose myself.


  That one day I will look to my mother, with tears in my eyes, and say,

  “I can’t do this anymore.”

  As I crumble to my knees.

  I am afraid.

  I am weak.

  But I will not! Let you tell me what I can do.

  I will grow up how I want.

  I will make my opportunities and fix my aching soul.

  I grew up better than this.

  I will become better than me.

  And I will not! Be scared anymore.

  Not anymore.

  Everything and Forever

  The softness of his lips,

  The loving caress of my cheek,

  The understanding and care in his eyes,

  The protection of being held in his arms,

  The comfort of his heartbeat,

  The safety of being close,

  The happiness in his voice,

  He is my one and only.

  He is my sweetheart,

  My everything, my forever.

  Tick Tick Tick

  Listen to your heart beat,

  Tick Tick Tick

  Faster and faster

  Filling you with heat.

  Like a bomb set to go.

  Tick Tick Tick

  Time runs out

  Feel the blow.

  Death rests for no one

  Tick Tick Tick

  He's here for you

  Better run.

  Your heart stops in his wake

  Tick … Tick

  Your life runs out

  Souls he begins to take.

  He steals you last

  Tick … …

  Death takes you away

  The pain goes fast.

  Listen to your heart beat,


  Against Death you are no one.

  Admit defeat.


  Falling into my own darkness,

  Being swallowed by my sorrow and fears,

  Lying to myself and everyone around me,

  I just keep drowning in a sea of regret and anxiety.

  I'm so alone in this world.

  Left to crumble into myself,

  Rotting from the inside out.

  Lost with no hope of being found.

  No one understands the pain I go through every day.

  Pretending I'm someone I'm not.

  Lying to get through the day.

  Escaping reality by creating a fantasy world in my mind.

  I have nothing to hold onto.

  Nothing solid to keep me from falling further.

  My heart is breaking,

  Pushing me deeper into my depression.

  Why do I feel so numb inside?

  I cannot speak my heart.

  I cannot move at my own pace.

  I cannot even think for myself anymore.

  7 Deadly Sins

  Be silent you worthless creature!

  Be still your thrashing about.

  Your chains are made of haunted essence.

  Thy soul sold to Satan’s realm.

  Stop your growling and snarling.

  Silence thy whimpering; it is just pain.

  Hear the crack of my whip as it snaps before you.

  Step back wild animal!

  Hell will welcome your Sins.

  Lust, Wrath, Pride, Greed,

  Sloth, Envy, Gluttony;

  You are the foulest of beasts.

  A slave to personal biddings.

  Be thankful Hell has welcomed you like Heaven will never.

  Your Sins have dug your grave.

  Satan’s darkest demons will eat you alive.

  You will burn in your ashes.

  Be silent you creature of Sin!

  Feel the sting of my whip across your chest.

  Be gone. Hell has come to your sleep.

  Birthday Girl

  Congratulations my dear friend.

  It is your birthday once again.

  May your days be filled with happiness.

  Maybe soon you'll become an actress.

  Don't let others keep you down.

  Remember your first touchdown.

  I know this poem makes no sense.

  In fact, it even makes me tense.

  Today is your birthday.

  And although I may be far away,

  Remember that I'll always be by your side.

  I'll always be your ally.

  So now I want you to smile!

  Or else I'll give you a bad hairstyle.

  I'll bring you a bouquet,

  Every year on your birthday.

  Happy birthday my dear friend.

  For this is your special weekend.

  Bloody Midnight

p; Midnight strikes.

  The moon disappears.

  A castle rises from the ground.

  Darkness swallows our souls.

  Demons laugh,

  As they slit our throats quickly,

  Drinking our blood,

  Eating our muscles away.

  Time is frozen.

  We cannot fight back.

  The earth bleeds,

  A red river flows.

  Demons fly,

  Catching their prey.


  That is what we are.

  When midnight strikes,

  We are chained to the ground.

  Unable to run from this horrid nightmare.

  Unable to catch a dying breath.

  The demons keep us only as food.

  We can try to resist,

  The temptations they may bring.

  But it’s all in vain.

  Looking like fallen angels,

  They draw us in through love.

  Only for us to be betrayed!

  And killed for their own game.

  More blood flows.

  When Midnight strikes,

  The demons will rise again,

  For their dinner is here to stay.

  A bloody midnight it is.

  A glorious midnight.

  A horrid midnight.

  But a bloody one indeed.

  The Battle

  Let my pen be my sword,

  My words my shield.

  Let the battle be fought,

  The paper as the battlefield.

  The blood is the ink,

  That stains each sheet.

  The curves and lines of words,

  That are etched into the ground with the so called blood.

  My sword will follow through the cut,

  My pen not once hesitating.

  My words will not be broken,

  My shield will stay strong.

  My pen protects.

  My words shield.

  We fight, long and hard,

  Until the battle is won.

  I won't back down.

  My sword will not be lowered.

  My shield will not be put away.

  This is my story of battle.

  I will write of ever action,

  Of every cut made,

  And of every ounce of bloodshed.

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