clayton young Poems
|3.||Dead Bones And Dry Tears||5/4/2009|
|8.||What's Done Is Done||9/13/2009|
|9.||This Is Me||9/23/2009|
|11.||This Is Me 2||10/29/2009|
|12.||An Attempt Not To Regret||11/2/2009|
|13.||My Flawed Cure||12/3/2009|
|15.||Second Idea To You||11/11/2010|
|20.||My Shattered Soul||4/30/2009|
|22.||Burning Flame And Bright Light||5/4/2009|
|29.||Medication Or Discretion||7/17/2009|
|30.||Forgive And Forget Doesn'T Exist||10/28/2009|
|31.||Chains, Tears, And Dead Bodies||4/30/2009|
Pain, Hate, Love, gone.
I say I have this hate, this unbelievable,
unconceivable, and unbearable hate,
that lashes out from in me,
and explodes in fury that I have locked
deep in a vault somewhere that must
remain locked forever.
But why? Why do I feel so much hate,
or was it love? No. it can’t be love
, who could possibly…
but wait, I love her and she loves me,
does she not? And them,
they’re there too and.. I think they love me.
As I fall into the abyss of that dark
place I see hate, and I see love,
but.. I can no longer ...
I remember those things you
threw so uncaringly at me.
I remember the dark blade
dripping in the poisonous remorse
you so nonchalantly carry with you.
You slid that blade through the outer
rim of my being as I came to you
and that dark place and could only stare.