Heather (hedder_42) wrote in _online_love_,
Heather
hedder_42
_online_love_

Yes I still do angst poems


Yea this poem came from the fact that it seems like alot of my friends really don't support me in the things that I do. All my friends are saying Brent and I are moving to fast with getting engaged and are just worried about money. Like we don't know what we are doing with our lives. No one seems to think I can do anything for myself, and they don't believe me when I say I am saving up money and trying to get on with my life with Brent. All my friends just seem to think I am making a huge mistake and am wasting my life away. I just wish people could be happy with what I am doing,cept that I am marrying Brent, even if no one approves, it hurts that no one approves though.

Secondly I have been told by more than one person that I whine to much. Even Brent has said it, even though he said he didn't mean it. What am I sapposed to do? Just keep all my problems inside? I know I always have problems but what can I do?! Sure if I say I am cold or hungry I will do something about it, so I am not whining about things I can fix. Man, I don't know, I guess I can just accept the fact that the only support in life will come from most of the time Brent,.

now onto the poem.....



poison escaping each facet
finding friends slip away
because they have more
and I find myself alone like before
pensive with a pencil
I suppose I’m sinking in this sorrow
misery doesn't feel so bad
it's righteous feeling sad
blisters have turned to scars
I guess I went too far
trying to win this war
what am I fighting for
I don't want to be a whisper
but I don't have a choice
I wasn't born with an angels voice
I fear my dreams will never come true
and I’m afraid the rain won't stop, too
there's a virus raging in my veins
and a poison that tries to escape
but I can't explain
my fury and my worries
I carry my sorrow like a sword
and I’m still raising hell
cos there's a story I must tell
I dwell in a dungeon
are you unaware of the void
the emptiness eating me inside
the abyss in which i hide
rough tissues upon my broken face
each miserable day is a waste
I’m withering away in this place
I’m a whisper of a petal
resigning that I’ve lost this battle.
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