Submissions by Page_Writer (Mad Girl)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Poet. Dreamer. Hopeless Romantic. Music Lover. Avid Reader. Writer. Mother. Storyteller. Neurotic.
DARK POEM
Published
4th Jul 2013 3:14am
4th Jul 2013 3:14am
The Truth About The Lies: The Reawakening
I wanted to tell you your not alone on the hurt thing by Alexis. She tried to kill me. . ."
I stare at the words on the screen.
This girl that annoyed Her so much.
This girl that Alexis told me that she tried to kill.
After a while I didn't believe it.
"I molested Amber, well it wasn't me-- It was Daniel, he didn't like her because she was a liar. And so I molested her and than I tried to kill her, she was like in love with me-- Kind of like you are Annie, and she annoyed me. That's why she still hangs around me because she likes me."
...
I stare at the words on the screen.
This girl that annoyed Her so much.
This girl that Alexis told me that she tried to kill.
After a while I didn't believe it.
"I molested Amber, well it wasn't me-- It was Daniel, he didn't like her because she was a liar. And so I molested her and than I tried to kill her, she was like in love with me-- Kind of like you are Annie, and she annoyed me. That's why she still hangs around me because she likes me."
...
792 reads
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DARK POEM
Published
3rd Jul 2013 3:04am
3rd Jul 2013 3:04am
Everybody's Victim
"Matt A-- Did you know him?"
"Shannon who? How do you know her?"
"My sister's dating Craig--"
"I know!"
"How?"
They bullied me.
All of them.
Any person that someone use to know
or does know
or we see in a store.
They've bullied me.
All of them.
That's what people do to people like me.
Because I'm different.
I'm quiet.
I write stories.
I read books.
Because I have over active sweat glands.
Because I'm smart.
Because I don't find stupid...
"Shannon who? How do you know her?"
"My sister's dating Craig--"
"I know!"
"How?"
They bullied me.
All of them.
Any person that someone use to know
or does know
or we see in a store.
They've bullied me.
All of them.
That's what people do to people like me.
Because I'm different.
I'm quiet.
I write stories.
I read books.
Because I have over active sweat glands.
Because I'm smart.
Because I don't find stupid...
635 reads
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LOVE POEM
Published
2nd Jul 2013 5:15pm
2nd Jul 2013 5:15pm
"Once Upon A Time. . . Forever & Always"
May 13th.
"Once upon a time. . ."
I can't believe I forgot, that my favorite number is always a reminder of my first stupid move in the game of love. The reminder of a boy that fell in love with a girl in her fifth grade class picture, the reminder that I was so lonely that the thought of a guy liking me made me fall head over heels in love and then pine over him for four years of my life until I was nothing but a heap of a broken hearted girl crumbled on the floor of her bedroom staring at her phone-- It shouldn't matter now, writing this down makes me just as bad...
"Once upon a time. . ."
I can't believe I forgot, that my favorite number is always a reminder of my first stupid move in the game of love. The reminder of a boy that fell in love with a girl in her fifth grade class picture, the reminder that I was so lonely that the thought of a guy liking me made me fall head over heels in love and then pine over him for four years of my life until I was nothing but a heap of a broken hearted girl crumbled on the floor of her bedroom staring at her phone-- It shouldn't matter now, writing this down makes me just as bad...
1095 reads
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LOVE POEM
Published
28th Jun 2013 4:56am
28th Jun 2013 4:56am
You Remind Me Of. . .
You remind me of Her.
Constantly altering your appearance.
You remind me of Her.
Constantly wanting attention.
You remind me of Her.
Liking things the moment everyone else does.
You remind me of Her.
And her need to always make me feel small.
(Even though she was suppose to be my friend
and later on my girlfriend.
Like you are suppose to be my friend.)
You remind me Her.
The constant dating.
The constant calling yourself a "slut" and "whore".
The constant new boyfriends, or girlfriends.
The insulting my drawings. ...
Constantly altering your appearance.
You remind me of Her.
Constantly wanting attention.
You remind me of Her.
Liking things the moment everyone else does.
You remind me of Her.
And her need to always make me feel small.
(Even though she was suppose to be my friend
and later on my girlfriend.
Like you are suppose to be my friend.)
You remind me Her.
The constant dating.
The constant calling yourself a "slut" and "whore".
The constant new boyfriends, or girlfriends.
The insulting my drawings. ...
837 reads
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STORY POEM
Published
28th Jun 2013 4:32am
28th Jun 2013 4:32am
Mistress of the Hunt
I am Artemis.
Mistress of the hunt.
Goddess of the moon.
Silver hair that cascades down my shoulders and neck.
Eyes as blue as a pure gas flame.
Skin as pale, as the Harvest moon that I allow to shine.
I am the virgin Goddess.
And I am to stay so.
Men want me.
But foolish mortals or immortals, what ever they be.
They will be hunted like the dogs they are.
And killed by my bow, an arrow through the heart.
Or a quick slash of my spear.
Death be unto those who stare at my naked body.
And my untamed silver hair. ...
Mistress of the hunt.
Goddess of the moon.
Silver hair that cascades down my shoulders and neck.
Eyes as blue as a pure gas flame.
Skin as pale, as the Harvest moon that I allow to shine.
I am the virgin Goddess.
And I am to stay so.
Men want me.
But foolish mortals or immortals, what ever they be.
They will be hunted like the dogs they are.
And killed by my bow, an arrow through the heart.
Or a quick slash of my spear.
Death be unto those who stare at my naked body.
And my untamed silver hair. ...
757 reads
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UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
25th Jun 2013 5:58pm
25th Jun 2013 5:58pm
You Had Me At Hello
When I first met you, I wish I had said something.
But I just sat there and stared at you instead.
I didn't say anything because you were so different.
Than the usual people that speak to me.
You weren't putting me down.
Or making fun of me.
So I wish that I had said something witty.
Instead of just sitting there with a blank stare.
Too caught up my own sorrow and poetry.
To notice the sweet guy standing in front of me.
So I wish I had said anything.
Than there wouldn't have been pain.
And the tears and sorrows. ...
But I just sat there and stared at you instead.
I didn't say anything because you were so different.
Than the usual people that speak to me.
You weren't putting me down.
Or making fun of me.
So I wish that I had said something witty.
Instead of just sitting there with a blank stare.
Too caught up my own sorrow and poetry.
To notice the sweet guy standing in front of me.
So I wish I had said anything.
Than there wouldn't have been pain.
And the tears and sorrows. ...
730 reads
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STORY POEM
Published
17th Jun 2013 8:37pm
17th Jun 2013 8:37pm
Lady Lazarus and Her Advice
I put down the book.
My second time reading it.
It's blue cover, with the picture of legs and older shoes.
Probably brand new when the book was written.
The pink letters of the author's name.
The white letters of the book's title.
I smile down at it.
And get up quietly, trying not to wake my boyfriend.
That lay next to me.
I place it on my shelve.
Along with all my other books by and about this wonderful woman.
I smile thinking of how I'm so happy.
For Esther to get out of the asylum.
She's going to have such a good life now.
I think...
My second time reading it.
It's blue cover, with the picture of legs and older shoes.
Probably brand new when the book was written.
The pink letters of the author's name.
The white letters of the book's title.
I smile down at it.
And get up quietly, trying not to wake my boyfriend.
That lay next to me.
I place it on my shelve.
Along with all my other books by and about this wonderful woman.
I smile thinking of how I'm so happy.
For Esther to get out of the asylum.
She's going to have such a good life now.
I think...
#books
#SylviaPlath
#MyInspiration #memorial
#MyInspiration #memorial
827 reads
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DARK POEM
Published
16th Jun 2013 3:17pm
16th Jun 2013 3:17pm
Happy Fatherless Day
I wrote a poem with the same title last year, same day.
But it had a crueler meaning.
I grew to not want to be around my father,
because of how he treated my mother.
So I ignored him.
And pretended that he was ignoring me still.
Like he did when I was a child.
And I wrote a poem.
Laced with anger.
And hatred.
For a man I didn't really know.
But now I write this poem.
For a different reason.
Because my father is not ignoring me.
Nor I ignoring him.
My father is gone.
As of last August.
There is still no grave....
But it had a crueler meaning.
I grew to not want to be around my father,
because of how he treated my mother.
So I ignored him.
And pretended that he was ignoring me still.
Like he did when I was a child.
And I wrote a poem.
Laced with anger.
And hatred.
For a man I didn't really know.
But now I write this poem.
For a different reason.
Because my father is not ignoring me.
Nor I ignoring him.
My father is gone.
As of last August.
There is still no grave....
968 reads
2 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
10th Jun 2013 5:30am
10th Jun 2013 5:30am
A Lullaby for the Dreamless
Sleep my darling.
Rest your eyes.
I will sing you a lullaby.
A sonnet of my own design.
Shhh, my dear and close your eyes.
The Man in the Moon is leaning down to tuck you in bed.
And the stars are your nightlights and they dance over your head.
Shhh, my dear and sleep tonight.
I know the darkness is scary.
And the nightmares can be so real.
But I am hear to scare them away.
I will protect you from things that are different & strange.
Shhh, my darling I am right here.
And the Sandman is coming to say goodnight.
Do not...
Rest your eyes.
I will sing you a lullaby.
A sonnet of my own design.
Shhh, my dear and close your eyes.
The Man in the Moon is leaning down to tuck you in bed.
And the stars are your nightlights and they dance over your head.
Shhh, my dear and sleep tonight.
I know the darkness is scary.
And the nightmares can be so real.
But I am hear to scare them away.
I will protect you from things that are different & strange.
Shhh, my darling I am right here.
And the Sandman is coming to say goodnight.
Do not...
914 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
9th Jun 2013 6:26am
9th Jun 2013 6:26am
Energy Drinks & Panic Attacks
I really shouldn't drink energy drinks.
Even if they taste like apple Jolly Rancher & that makes me like them more.
I really shouldn't drink energy drinks.
Because they give me forced mania, a high, a buzz & a kick that I can't shake.
And so I enter three competitions, writing three poems.
Research everything I need to know about Sylvia Plath.
Got my mother to agree to buy me a book called Pain, Party, Work by some author I can't remember the name to. Elizabeth something. It's about Sylvia Plath.
And than I wrote a chapter for my book about a girl named...
Even if they taste like apple Jolly Rancher & that makes me like them more.
I really shouldn't drink energy drinks.
Because they give me forced mania, a high, a buzz & a kick that I can't shake.
And so I enter three competitions, writing three poems.
Research everything I need to know about Sylvia Plath.
Got my mother to agree to buy me a book called Pain, Party, Work by some author I can't remember the name to. Elizabeth something. It's about Sylvia Plath.
And than I wrote a chapter for my book about a girl named...
858 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
9th Jun 2013 3:24am
9th Jun 2013 3:24am
Not A Disability
I do not have a disability.
I am not disabled.
So I feel when I collect my money from the state every beginning of the month.
When there are people with bum legs.
And no arms.
People with messed up hands, feet and other limbs.
If I say I collect disability.
At the age of nineteen.
People will look at me with that confused expression.
That glazed over look in their eyes.
The question bubbling up from their throat, and burning a hole through their tongue.
"Why?"
Because I am depressed.
Because I am paranoid....
I am not disabled.
So I feel when I collect my money from the state every beginning of the month.
When there are people with bum legs.
And no arms.
People with messed up hands, feet and other limbs.
If I say I collect disability.
At the age of nineteen.
People will look at me with that confused expression.
That glazed over look in their eyes.
The question bubbling up from their throat, and burning a hole through their tongue.
"Why?"
Because I am depressed.
Because I am paranoid....
781 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Page_Writer (Mad Girl)
