Biography of Stephanie Boccia
I love poetry. It's what keeps me sane.
Stephanie Boccia Poems
Forgive My Guilt
Not always sure what things called sins may be, I am sure of one sin I have done. It was 10 years ago when I was a young child, I sat on the floor, marker in hand, ready but not for fun.
Knowing that I might not have another chance to see her breaks my heart in two. Knowing that there might not be just one other day where I could hold her in my arms feels so wrong. Knowing that no matter what I do, or how hard I try, I can't keep her from fading out. Tuning out. Blocking me out.
One Crow Stands Alone
One crow stands alone. Its family flew, When no one knew, Shivering loss to the bone.
His skin… So pale… His hair… So thin… His lips… So brittle… His eyes… So shallow...
Uncertainty No reality Discomfort of all humanity Melting
The Hidden Thinker
I feel the need to get away. The need to scream. The need to stop... and think. Just think... nothing else.
The sound of falling, Found and calling. The cry of screaming, When death is dreaming.
The Plea For Help
Screaming, Crying, feel like dying. Cutting, tearing, please stop staring. World is crumbling, done with stumbling.
Sick Of Crying
Sick 0f crying Tired of trying Yeah, I'm smiling But inside I'm dying.
Popularity, that's the key. See Sally? She's the one to be. Skinny jeans, high ponytail Do these things or you're sure to fail.
Lunatics R Us
We've all worked so hard. Being here in Lunatics R US. Battling through those family members who just don't understand, Who think Insanity can stop a man.
Can't sleep, can't hear, can't see, pain everywhere. Can't stand, can't walk, can't skip, can't turn, can't bend, can't move, can't run, can't breathe, pain everywhere. Can't focus, can't listen, can't hear you, pain everywhere. Can't see cause the world keeps spinning, can't walk cause I keep on falling, can't shrug cause my muscles are crying, can't hear cause my right ear is dying, pain everywhere.
Clear waters, no reflection Running tears filled with rejection. Warming hands without a print Nothing less than a huge hint.
Forgive My Guilt
Not always sure what things called sins may be,
I am sure of one sin I have done.
It was 10 years ago when I was a young child,
I sat on the floor, marker in hand, ready but not for fun.
The rapid beating of my heart signaling me to charge,
Charge at the doll that was so effortlessly fooling with my mind.
Forcing me to think horrid thoughts I never knew I could.
This doll was my stepsister’s who was not my kind.
Towards, the doll I ran to end this evil madness,