sweetdreamz8521's blog: "poems"

I feel so alone, like I’m the only person in the world who feels this way, and it doesn’t matter. It’s not important, maybe because I’m not important. Some days I don’t even know why I try. What can I do to be significant? I’m screaming out, doing everything in my power to be heard, yet even silence is louder than my screams. What can I do to be heard, other than tear down my world, break apart my life, die? Sometimes I wonder whether or not I’m becoming more alive or dying, sometimes I wonder if there is a difference. The pain never leaves. It never disappears. It never dies, it never fades, it never lets up. The more I try to forget the more it hurts, the more I try to move on the further I fall back. Desperation is worse than frustration, is living worse than dying? Is screaming worse than crying? The desire to destroy overwhelms me. If I break apart the world around me, maybe the world inside will feel more in tact, maybe it’s just relative. If I create chaos in my environment, my inner world will be more at peace, even though it’s all the same. The ridiculousness of this all is taking over. Why I’m feeling this way means nothing, I am, but it doesn’t matter. I just want someone to think I’m not crazy, someone to understand and to listen to me and not get angry that I’m not content, because I’m not. I’m not happy. It’s the same lie I’ve been telling all my life, the same lie even I started to believe. It doesn’t make a difference whether or not it’s true anyway, as long as I feel like it’s true, I feel alive. But I don’t feel alive. I feel like I’m trapped in a world that doesn’t want me, in a world where I’m so completely different that I can’t ever fit in or be understood. That’s where there’s loneliness, when I realize that I’ve become so different, I’ll never be understood. I can scream as loud as I want, but the screams will always fade because no one knows how to listen, and I have no idea how to show them. Author Unknown

Edgar Allan Poe (1829) Dim vales- and shadowy floods- And cloudy-looking woods, Whose forms we can't discover For the tears that drip all over! Huge moons there wax and wane- Again- again- again- Every moment of the night- Forever changing places- And they put out the star-light With the breath from their pale faces. About twelve by the moon-dial, One more filmy than the rest (A kind which, upon trial, They have found to be the best) Comes down- still down- and down, With its centre on the crown Of a mountain's eminence, While its wide circumference In easy drapery falls Over hamlets, over halls, Wherever they may be- O'er the strange woods- o'er the sea- Over spirits on the wing- Over every drowsy thing- And buries them up quite In a labyrinth of light- And then, how deep!- O, deep! Is the passion of their sleep. In the morning they arise, And their moony covering Is soaring in the skies, With the tempests as they toss, Like- almost anything- Or a yellow Albatross. They use that moon no more For the same end as before- Videlicet, a tent- Which I think extravagant: Its atomies, however, Into a shower dissever, Of which those butterflies Of Earth, who seek the skies, And so come down again, (Never-contented things!) Have brought a specimen Upon their quivering wings

Edgar Allan Poe (1827) Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep- while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?

Edgar Allan Poe (1830) From childhood's hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved alone. Then- in my childhood, in the dawn Of a most stormy life- was drawn From every depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still: From the torrent, or the fountain, From the red cliff of the mountain, From the sun that round me rolled In its autumn tint of gold, From the lightning in the sky As it passed me flying by, From the thunder and the storm, And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view.

Petal by petal in turn breaks away as the lifeless stem with the breeze gently sways. Piece by piece falling apart like the pieces of my broken heart but the season has changed as the sun shines through the rain a small seedling can be found sprouting from the freshly damp ground. A new life portraying a new start both for the rose and my resurrecting heart. ~Nina R. January 11, 2001

My knees start to weaken At the first sight of your face My heart starts to melt at the thought of your embrace. Your love flows through me Like a river flows down its path Your kiss lifts me up so high I could probably fall to my death. I really wish that When I looked in your eyes I could see Exactly how it is that you feel about me. I get nervous when you're around me I feel I could cry when you're away I dream about you Every night and every day I want you to know My last three words will always remain true Regardless what I may say or do, You'll always know that I love you. ~Nina R. 2004

I'm like a rose blossoming its lovely petalsto your love you've given to me But yet I ponder, these petals I have bloomed, have begun to wilt with somber. One by one, the petals begin to deminish because your love that you have given to me, was, and always will be remembered. I move on to a new beginning where its free of somber and disaster. One by one, my love has regained conscienceness, and these beautiful petals begin yet again. Because of a new love I've found, I hope you understand. These petals that I grow bring joy and happiness, not only to myself, but to others who see me as a different person as you did. In the end it all comes together, I'm a happy person, I'm like a lovely rose waiting for a new beginning. ~Nina R. 2001