Biography of Brookelyn Walker
My parents divorced when I was 10, and at that time I stupidly had a boyfriend, who abused me and I walked home every day with bruises and a new lie. I am now 15 and am strugling with getting away from my abusive mother who drinks herself to sleep every night. I am planning on moving to New York when I am 18. I write poems to get thing off my chest. And I quite honestly don't care who reads them.
Brookelyn Walker Poems
'A Little Book Of Poems'
Filled up like the sea, One that none shall see. A little book of maddness, That is filled with saddness.
She is staring out the window again. Looking at something distant. Past the parking lot. Past the trees.
Yellowed pages; Thin and frail. Yellowed pages; Tell my tale. Yellowed pages; Keep my secrets. Hiding in plain sight
Description Of A Girl.
Can't you see the bags under her eyes? The way that she stays up so late at night? Can't you see the way she cries Not too hard, so, so light?
Mr. Musican - Why Didn'T I Listen?
Curtains Pulled apart at the conductors command. Sheets
I got angry, At someone I didn't know. I mistook a guy,
This doesn't help I don't care anymore. Haven't for a while now. I'm not okay.
She stays up far too late. She wakes up far too late. He stays there far too late. He leaves there far too late.
Why did I have to fall in love with him? Why does he look this way and smile? Why does his affection seem to smother me? And then why does he suddenly turn cold?
Rebel For Me
She walked up. They asked her last words. For everyone to hear. She said, in a coarse whisper
Dark brown eyes hold no lies, But the person behind them does. She tries to hide, stupidly thinking That the pain will subside
There Is No Reason
Why do the birds fly? Because there is no reason. Why do I not try? Because there is no reason.
Me? I Am Free
In this world, I quite honestly think That there is no such thing as 'perfect' If there was, I'd be anythin' but that, I'd be me, Yeah, I'd be me,
Lakeside Veiw Of Life
The Lake was aflame in the bright morning sun, The Trees whispered, telling to run. I took a step, then another, Quickened pace in both fear and haste.
Me? I Am Free
In this world, I quite honestly think
That there is no such thing as 'perfect'
If there was, I'd be anythin' but that,
I'd be me, Yeah, I'd be me,
Free from social heirarchy.