Biography of Sara Holzen
Poetry has always been an extreme love of mine, since I was young. When I could not express myself verbally or physically, the words flowed easily and naturally with any creative writes I had. Some of my poems date back to when I was eleven, until the age of seventeen. I believe all poetry, no matter the writing style, is the creative and discreet view we have into a person's soul. Something that lingers beneath the surface, that you cannot see but feel when you read their work.
Sara Holzen Poems
The grass melted as the sea bled into the sky
The World's Ignorance
Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but what do we aquire when all there is in this world, is ignorance?
With Your Love ≪3
Your love is like a fire that has lit my blackened path, Before I met you I had grown tired of waiting for life to end its wrath.
A First Love; 4 Seasons
You, you're bringing me down in pain You, I'm screaming your name in vain
My eyes burn from exhaustion, as my body refuses to physically equip my whims to move around.
Dad, You Are My World ≪3
I wish this life had offered you more as you slowly had aged. Even though I was young, I felt the heartache and
Psychology Is My Passion
Psychology is my passion as the brain continues to grow, learning human behavior is just a fraction of what we could really know.
Falling Into The Happiness
On some of my lonely days, I remember what use to be as I look at my reflection in the mirror.
Wishing Upon A Star
To the stars I see I make just one wish, For happiness to penetrate
You Can Make A Difference
The blades of the fan rotate in sync with the clicking hands on the clock, The atmosphere silenced so quickly you could of heard a pin if it had been dropped,
Beautiful Butterflies Lying On The Cemen...
Oh, Beautiful butterfly lying on the cement, what had happened when I was not present? Your family and friends have been searching but you are nowhere to be found
Everything Was Gone, Everyone Was At Pea...
I took a breath and said my goodbyes, Turned around and ignored the lies,
Why Can'T You See That She's Dying On Th...
The scars and cuts are hidden, invisible, the pain; a repeat of unbearable no one to the human eye can see that the little girl did cry,
Save Me, Before The Maggots Come
Through the piles of wounded bodies my spirit does plea, somebody come quick and revive me.
I have been contemplating with myself
about my worth in our relationship,
I feel worthless, hopeless, and trapped.
My tears have become more consistent
as the pain clings to my chest,
everyday life becoming more of a struggle
as getting out of bed is less of an option.