deepundergroundpoetry.com

Scrapbook

and Photo Albums

The roses were never red,
the violets could have been blue.
These teenage love rhymes
brings back old memories of you

You send me flowers, knowing i�m alergic
You screaned in my face, the past sure is nostalgic.
The tears that were never shed,
� � � � cause i chose to hide it.
Knowing to myself that you
� � � � weren�t worth it.

Tattoes etched across a scarred heart.
The soul darken by memories of the past.
Pictures haunting the album pages.
The face of some one you haven�t seen for ages,
suddenly popping up like the plot of a bad movie,
Old high shool photos flashing the youth you use to be.

Bumping, bubbling clutz of a geek.
Studying, holding up glasses and braces on my teeth.
All dressed in black and chains on my boot.
Trying to quickly check,
� � � � �if there is anything stuck in my tooth.

High Schools I�ve been expelled out of,
� � � � �and accepted into.
I quit day school altogether and ended up
� � � � �joining night school.
Not really a rebel, just an awkward goth girl.
Whom everyone gawks at weirdly, but are secretly,
� � � � � afraid of.

Closing the book of pictured films.
Shutting out the past of the hims.
I am the way I am, because of the us that was then.
So, even now, I still can�t say, if the roses, were truelly red.