Biography of Edward Veilleux
Edward Veilleux Poems
Life Is What Life Is
Through all the ups, all the downs, Some will be there, some can't be found. If they won't care as they should, so be it. This is life in the way that I wish to see it.
It's hard to translate one's feelings into speech, It takes time to overcome the obstacles we meet. Don't live life scared of what your words will bring, Even if you fail, at least you attempted to do something.
Fear Of Death
Why must one such as I, live my life with fear, the fear to unjustly die. It is not what you first hear,
Do you see things as we all do? Trying to prove yourself, but to who? Are you worried about what we think of you? You're insecure about yourself, but who knew?
So much to know, So much to learn, Fires to start, Hearts to burn.
I can't sleep, not allowed to dream. Sitting here wide awake, thinking about what it all means...
When I die, carry out my final wish. Bury me beneath the soil, away from all of this. The want for love, the need for her company. Bury me far from it, when my breath has left me.
Funeral For A Friend
At his funeral there will be sadness and tears, Some are fake but some have been forged through years. Through the best of times, and equally through the worst. It'd be interesting to see who would speak up first...
Built With Beautiful Intentions
We build it up, beautifully, In all our rage and anger. when will we pull the pin? If it is set off today,
I woke up today as I do everyday, Wondering if you dreamt of me too, As you said, I can't help everyone, I would be content just to help you...
In The Midst...
There is an angel in the midst, She stands beautiful and tall. So much time spent in bliss, Left with confusion now, that's all.
There she stood, with another new guy. She looked good, actually that's a lie.
Andre and Edward, twin towers indeed. Left to look after each other when found in need. Their parents don't support them and never understand. A pact made with words, as strong as a shaking of hands.
Easy And Good
writing a bad poem is hard, when something good comes out and we realize it for what it is, a good solid poem.
When I die, carry out my final wish.
Bury me beneath the soil, away from all of this.
The want for love, the need for her company.
Bury me far from it, when my breath has left me.
Never to be reminded of this terrible place,
We've called it home but it's really just empty space.