actor, cold hearted, contrast, dangerous, dark, depression, fake, gloomy, happy, heart, love, poem, poems, poetry, short story, story, suicide

“Let Me Take You Away!”

Spotting her is a mere child’s play,

She makes all the other flowers look black and grey.

Her face is pale, but her lips are rushing red,

She smiles like there is something she’s keeping from you, something remains unsaid.

Her eyes a soft washed out green, so beautiful, so divine,

Her silky hair effortlessly falls down her spine.

She smiled at me with just the right touch of blush and shyness, and used to say,

“Darling, hold my hands, let me take you away.”

“You look confused and alone, my dear.”

She used to whisper into my ear.

She knew from just a touch,

Who I was, and she didn’t judge.

She was the one who brought happiness to me,

I was blinded by something so effortlessly beautiful, she.

But once my smile had returned,

I held her hand once again, something wasn’t right, it burned.

“Darling, hold my hand, and take me away.”

“Darling please, I dont want to stay.”

Her mouth lie in a thin morbid line,

It looked so unnatural, like they were not used right, to their design.

“Take me away!” She said again, this time louder.

She dropped to the floor, like a dehydrated flower.

“Take me away…” She cried. “Take me away.”

“Forever, please, I dont want to stay”

Her cry had a rawness to it, like a freshly cut open wound.

I just stood there, utterly astound.

I took her cold hand, almost like ice, dead.

And I realised, her hands were red.

Her eyes were dripping flames ,

Everything clashed together, lives unspoken worries and pains.

I couldn’t believe that this girl, who had showed me life,

Would leave it, by just the cut of her little pocket knife.

And I still remember what she used to say,

“Hold my hand, let me take you away. “

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cold hearted, happy, instruments, mind, music, musical, poem, poems, poetry

Mysterious Musical Mind

The best music comes from the most mysterious people

They are unpredictable, can be good or evil.

They may hide a lot, not talk as much,

You might think you know them, but its easy to misjudge.

Their brains are filled with colourful bundles of ideas that they can only communicate

Through their instruments, these are the times of passion, their brains goes crazy, they almost hallucinate.

They dont feel much in our grey world of repetition and boredom, nothing can stimulate their senses,

But that breathtaking tune on the violin, makes their hearts fill with joy, and the tunes become intensive.

We are musicians, there are no guidelines, nor good or bad,

And our tunes dont get lost with time and become a fad.

Our tunes can fill your heart to its maximum, bursting with joy,

Or suck out all your life, describe your situations without words, you cry, but you still enjoy.

We are musicians, we love what we do.

Because even though music cant be seen, nor touched, it still has the power to influence you.

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change, cold hearted, dangerous, dark, goomy, mood, poem, poems, poetry, positive vs negative

No one can read me, not even you.

No one can read me, not even you.

No one can see me, so whatever you see, you should think through.

My eyes are blank and my heart is cold, they say.

And feelings are nothing but the mixture of colours on the floor in fall, all swept away.

You might not know, but whilst Im smiling, Im dying inside.

You might not notice, but when I tell you Im fine, that is just another night I cried.

You dont know my past, I dont expect you to.

No one knows my past, no one, not even you.

You dont know me, I know you dont.

You dont know me, you can try to find out, but I cant let you, I wont.

How can you act the way you do, when Im supposed to be the one in distress?

How can you throw me away and believe I dont notice?

Ive been thrown away before, and with every time, I get more numb.

And now look at me, look at what Ive become.

Ive become someone no one knows, not even you.

So whatever you do to me, you should think through.

You may know my passions in life, but my not my past,

Which still dwells over me, its been some time, but time runs fast.

My skin burns everyday,

But since no one knows, you still treat me like trash, I pay.

Stop please, just stop. I cry under water to make it seem like its nothing.

The tears mix with the salt water, but dont you see Im drowning?

Im locked in a prison cell, bound down with ice cold chains.

Stop please, just stop. My mask will fall off from the tears.

And I will have to face my biggest fears.

Give me a hug, I need it now.

Force me if I refuse. Even if I dont allow.

Give my little heart some warmth, I need it.

You dont know me, but you can try,

To give me a smile, and make the bad fly.

No one can read me, not even you.

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change, cold hearted, dark, goomy, poem, poems, poetry

Changed

You told me I changed.

Its something about me, my hair, maybe one has been rearranged?

You say my light is slowly dripping away and my smile is gone.

That I look like I wear a mask everyday, its just a show I put on.

When I hear these things, it feels like a dagger slowly being forced into my guts,

Leaving me behind with huge cuts.

I tell you “I havent changed, dont you see?”

“I am still the same, happy little girl Ive always tried to be!”

 But when you tell me everyday that everything is my fault,

With every new time, my world stops turning and comes to a hault.

I do smile, but its at times that I am away from you.

You are totally ignorant towards my feelings, oh if only you knew.

If only you knew how many nights I have cried over how you treat me,

You might even understand my acting towards you, and agree.

But you dont, you are just as cold as I can be sometimes, we are very much the same.

We both hide our troubles, and never show signs of pain.

But you still expect me to hold all the troubles you can’t bear,

You dump them on me like trash, you don’t even care.

What if I told you I can’t hold this load, that its slowly making me die?

What if I told you, that because of you, I have broken our trust, now its all a big lie?

At least you’ve noticed I changed but you haven’t noticed the source of my sadness.

You haven’t spotted the source of my infinite madness.

If only you knew, 

That the only source of my madness, is, you.

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brat, cold hearted, poem, poems, poetry

Brat

How can you walk,

How can you talk,

Do your thing,

Walk these streets, like you’re the king?

How can you smile at me like that?

When in all reality, you’re nothing but a brat.

A brat who earns his livings by taking others smiles away.

But why make them pay?

Im not stupid, Ive seen you walk around,

As others drop next to you, white faced, you think you`re so profound.

But you are nothing but air.

You are nothing but air, so I understand why you care.

You want to be more than just a thing people take for granted.

You walk around like your heart has been transplanted.

You want to inject some kind of power feeling into them. Fear.

To me your`e still air, nothing, transparent, clear.

And you will remain exactly that,

Until you decide,simply, not to be a brat.

But I fear my warning is too late,

So Ill just leave the future happenings up to your fate.

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