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Posted: Fri Dec 29, 2006 6:06 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 29, 2006 6:08 pm
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WildWildWindWhisperer Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Jan 08, 2007 9:15 am
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Posted: Sun Jan 28, 2007 3:07 pm
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Posted: Sun Jan 28, 2007 3:16 pm
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Posted: Sun Jan 28, 2007 3:23 pm
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WildWildWindWhisperer Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Feb 02, 2007 7:59 am
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Posted: Sun Feb 04, 2007 2:15 pm
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 11:38 am
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Posted: Mon Feb 12, 2007 1:15 pm
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Unloved
Why do you tell me Everything will be okay When you know that statement Is very wrong?
I can't stop wondering why You did what you did and how some you said what you said. I'm pondering the the answers I'm asking the questions But for some reason No words will come out
Maybe it's because I've sworn to God Maybe it's because I've sworn to the Devil I know why I'll tell you something Here and now You laughed, I cryed You gave me sorrow and pai Loving you Was all I could ever do So why can't you explain?
I want to jump off that cliff Falling into the cement-like water Hitting the jagged rocks that await me Feeling my body die Has to be easier Than being betrayed.
Any mortal sees death But than why don't I die? No matter how many times I try, I cut myself and hung myself But I will never die.
Those words you said to me, They made me immortal. They toughened my inner heart, They toughened my outer shell. The one thing I do know, Is that you will go to Hell.
Will someone explain What went wrong? You broke my heart, Shattered my bones, And with every kiss That became the pain and the grudge That I hold against you.
Pondering why You didn't give me a clue You left me feeling black and blue. As I sit here Alone in my room, I think to myself:
"Razors pain you Rivers are damp Acids stain you And drigs cause cramp Guns arn't lawful And nooses give as smalls awful You might as well live..."
This is what you have done to me Coming and going Moaning with woe Being shunned Feels better Than wanting you back.
I am unloved by all That I love so dear For no one takes my seriously And that is their downfall.
Can't you see What you have made out of me? Can't imagine why You would do what you do.
But instead You ignored the crying girl And now I am almost dead.
Tired of dieing over and over. That's what you should do. You should die.
Then maybe, Just maybe, You will understand, What I go through. Day in And day out.
This poem, I am a little ashamed of. It was written back when I was in seventh grade. I didn't have a very good time, if you couldn't tell. I just kinda, well, wanted to die. I thought my life was absolutely horrid. Please do not be quick to judge. I have changed drastically! The poem doesn't have very good flow. But I put my heart into it. Thats all that really matters. Right?
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Posted: Mon Feb 12, 2007 1:34 pm
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Okay. Before I even post this poem, I am going to tell a little about it. This was also written in seventh grade. It was written for a friend of mine. He, well, he cut himself. Not a lot, only a couple times, but it was still enough to make me cry and worry. When I wrote this poem, I only shared it with my other friend, afraid that Jon, my friend who cut, would be mad. Then I finally decided to come out and show him the poem. When he read it, he laughed and threw it away. So I talked to my teacher and the matter was dealt with. Here it is.
He Cuts (I)
No one knows The way I feel, Unless your friend Has cut.
It feels like Falling into a dark abyss Observing life From the inside out.
Wondering why he did it. He said it was because He didn't feel loved. I told him that was bull.
It hurt me, That he didn't bother to tell me, Any of this.
I cryed But he then laughed, And said that it was okay. He wouldn't cut again. How was I supposed to beleive that?
As I walk the boulevard, I can just imagine it... They found him lying dead, In his room with blood on the floor, A mirror broken, shards wedged in the door, His wrist, it was slashed. Deep.
This thought scares me He is my dear friend I've known him for years. And in those years, He never gave a clue... I don't read minds, How was I supposed to know? Am I the one to blame?
On starry nights, I am crying Wishing I could make it stop somehow. Cold hands and feet Are the result of writing on late snowy nights.
Now I wish he hadn't told me, What he was keeping inside. The bloody wrist, An image that won't go away. I should have known, I wish I had.
You may call it brave. You may call it stupid. You may call it love lorn. Or you may say he was mearly Looking for attention.
I don't care what you say. He was dear to me, Like a brother.
I can't accept What he's done to his life. Just wanting control of his life... But he didn't have to do it that way... His voice is nothing But an empty void That can never be filled.
It's like a keilidesope <----Spelling? Yeah, I'll give him that His life may have been hard to cope. Next he will do drugs Or steroids.
My only wish Is that he is happy With what he has done with his life. And I can't thank him enough For everything he has done for me. For he is my friend, Like a brother.
This poem, I know, is a little choppy, and doesn't flow nice. But to be honest. I could have given a rat's behind if the poem flowed or not. I just wanted to convay the message. So comment, critique, whatever. Just please read it. Cutting is a serious issue and I want you all to know, that it will not only effect you, but everyone around you. If you hurt yourself, you are hurting the people you care about you the most.
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Posted: Mon Feb 26, 2007 7:50 am
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WildWildWindWhisperer Vice Captain
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WildWildWindWhisperer Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Feb 26, 2007 8:01 am
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shiko_me Okay. Before I even post this poem, I am going to tell a little about it. This was also written in seventh grade. It was written for a friend of mine. He, well, he cut himself. Not a lot, only a couple times, but it was still enough to make me cry and worry. When I wrote this poem, I only shared it with my other friend, afraid that Jon, my friend who cut, would be mad. Then I finally decided to come out and show him the poem. When he read it, he laughed and threw it away. So I talked to my teacher and the matter was dealt with. Here it is.
He Cuts (I)
No one knows The way I feel, Unless your friend Has cut.
It feels like Falling into a dark abyss Observing life From the inside out.
Wondering why he did it. He said it was because He didn't feel loved. I told him that was bull.
It hurt me, That he didn't bother to tell me, Any of this.
I cryed But he then laughed, And said that it was okay. He wouldn't cut again. How was I supposed to beleive that?
As I walk the boulevard, I can just imagine it... They found him lying dead, In his room with blood on the floor, A mirror broken, shards wedged in the door, His wrist, it was slashed. Deep.
This thought scares me He is my dear friend I've known him for years. And in those years, He never gave a clue... I don't read minds, How was I supposed to know? Am I the one to blame?
On starry nights, I am crying Wishing I could make it stop somehow. Cold hands and feet Are the result of writing on late snowy nights.
Now I wish he hadn't told me, What he was keeping inside. The bloody wrist, An image that won't go away. I should have known, I wish I had.
You may call it brave. You may call it stupid. You may call it love lorn. Or you may say he was mearly Looking for attention.
I don't care what you say. He was dear to me, Like a brother.
I can't accept What he's done to his life. Just wanting control of his life... But he didn't have to do it that way... His voice is nothing But an empty void That can never be filled.
It's like a keilidesope <----Spelling? Yeah, I'll give him that His life may have been hard to cope. Next he will do drugs Or steroids.
My only wish Is that he is happy With what he has done with his life. And I can't thank him enough For everything he has done for me. For he is my friend, Like a brother.
This poem, I know, is a little choppy, and doesn't flow nice. But to be honest. I could have given a rat's behind if the poem flowed or not. I just wanted to convay the message. So comment, critique, whatever. Just please read it. Cutting is a serious issue and I want you all to know, that it will not only effect you, but everyone around you. If you hurt yourself, you are hurting the people you care about you the most.
**** The statement you make and share is a powerful one. It`s well worthy of proclaiming and stressing as importance. Thank you, for the being a good citizen of our global world. It takes many to help keep the world spinning in balance.
Sincerely.... ...................WildWildWindWhisperer wink
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Posted: Tue Feb 27, 2007 3:40 pm
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Posted: Mon Mar 26, 2007 2:04 pm
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