Biography of Samantha Desmond
I'm 17 years old. I blow my candles out on July 15.
I'm a dancer and have been for the past 14 years.
I'm luckily a senior in high school =D I graduate on June 5th!
I have recently started writing poetry again because of my poetry class and I have found that I write better than I used to. So I decided I want to share it with people.
Let me know what you think!
I hope you all enjoy =D
Samantha Desmond Poems
Tell Yourself Your Beautiful
Tell yourself, That you love what you are, Despite the criticism around you, From the ignorance of the people,
But what can he do but touch, For he cannot see, Not a shape nor a color, Al he has are his hands.
She tells me everything's fine, so i go about my day, but with this burning feeling, something must be wrong.
For seventeen years I've lived on the earth dealing with love, hate, tragedy, and loss.
Our Own Beauty
I Do Not Care
This poem was written about and incident where a white cop shot a 10 year old black boy, he was found innocent even though everyone knew he did it. In class we had to write from any point of view and I chose the point of view of the cop. And with this gun inside my hand,
Sprinkle the stars upon her lashes, And whisper that sweet goodbye, Tie the dreams with scarlet ribbons, And sleep easily in the sky.
Wish Me A Dream
Under the evening moon, I watch the stars, as they dance across the sky, sparkling just so bright.
Like a child again, laughter filling the air, and eyes sparkling, for once without a care.
The dark mesh of the woods, leading to the unknown, my unknown.
I look at my reflection, and I fix my messy hair, I brush it soft under the light.
This is all true events that happened between me and my boyfriend. Listen to the rain falling, as he whispers in her ear,
What she remembers, is running through the house, their laughter showing their joy, as they pretended to be secret agents.
But what can he do but touch,
For he cannot see,
Not a shape nor a color,
Al he has are his hands.
His hearing, which once was great,
Is dwindling away,
Like his frail body,
And all he can do is touch.