Do you hear it?
The tiniest cracking of a twig
as we walk in the forest.
No, of course you don't.
...
Perfection: an ugly word
we have no use for it
no exact definition
for it is an opinion
...
I live in this country
the US of A
im not proud of it
we have done a lot of terrible things
...
life
a different description
lying inside all of us
some say a living hell,
...
Poetry, obviously, and there's not much else to say... my life hasn't been lived, so there nothing to tell. I write poems because they are a way to vent, and half of the ones on here aren't real or true. They just express what i'm trying to say better than a memoir.)
Darkness
A wave
harmless
a salty spray across your
lips
children play
they don't know
underneath the lapping waves
there is darkness
an unforgiving darkness
showing no bounds
swallowing all
who dare go too far
these children,
too young to be bothered
but this, this is real
under the waves is another world
This world, so many colors
they dart around
as you swim further
you get lost in it's majesty
too late;
too late for you
you must slip under the waves
find your world
find the death
the place you truly came from
go to it
and slip into the darkness
it welcomes you
and we will all be waiting