Kristin's Poetry

Poem One:

The time is near.

The time is near, I can feel it.
But how do I go out?
With style? With passion?
Out with a -
BANG!

The bitter crismon tears of the long lost memories.
That childhood pain that continues to haunt me.
The crimson tears for that lost child.
For the girl bullied at work, or for her weight.
For the peircing cold and pain of the metal spatula to her back.
Or just watching her mother's throat next to that pair of scissors.
Haunting...

How to go out?
This is the part I was waiting for.
I could do any of this.
Just sit down, relax, and put that barrel of the gun to my head?
Overdose on pills.
Use that pretty studded belt for a better purpouse than supporting my pants?
Or maybe go down the street rather than across..

The choice is mine.
The choice is near.

Her hands slide up the broadness of his chest.
His lips meet the arch of her neck.
Soft moans can be heard with each time their bodies collide.
Fireworks are made, but only visible to their eyes.

She arches her back, and stairs down at him.
Rocking with the ocean, back and fowarth.
x-x-x-x-x

Ehhh, it isn't finished. I don't know exactly HOW I feel about it.

-___-;;

Why are the tears crimson? Tear duct infection?

Crimsons tears were used to describe the bleeding cuts.

It's a terrible poem. I regret posting that one.

It's okay. You should check out my poems, they are epic. Maybe they'll help you improve:

http://www.killermovies.com/forums/f83/t489470.html

I'm more of a novel writer, to be honest. That's my strong point.

Friends

Small loves that fade in time.
Simple illusions that stab your back with a knife.
Scabs that pick and flake, and disapear until there is nothing but a scar.
Friends do no exist.

That wasn't that bad.

Thank you, sir.

Thoren approves. herbsmile

But seriously, good poems. 131

Thank you. <3

Controlling, it doesn't seem to stop. What once was a heart pounding relationship has become something less. You touch my face - I turn away. Our eyes meet, hold, but I feel nothing. A long lost love, that seems to be fading. I beg of you my sweet love...hold me in your arms and tell me once again that you love me. Win my love back by colliding our lips. The coldness of the metal, of your liprings seem like heaven, and hell. Your lips are of fire, poison, and the most addictive drug._

The poem is part one of a series. It's called, Set Me Free .
------------------------
I’m cold.
With only the warmth of my blankets to keep me at bay.
My skin is melting, exposing only the bones of my body.
My mind is numbing, from the lack of nutrition I have taken into my body.
I’m trapped behind a cage of ribs.
Breaking lose, but fearing to leave the cage’s site.
I’m losing control! I’m losing it all.
I’m trapped, trapped, trapped behind these ribs.
Waiting to be set free of this disease!
Oh god, if there is a god..help set me free.
Set me free from this disease.

She is losing this fight...with this disease.
She is losing her life... she forgot how to breathe.
She want's to be perfect...so she is wasting away.
So on her death bed...she can only prey.

The child stares at the scissors at her mothers throat. She is terrified, She is...
The child's beatings sting, but the verbal beatings stings worst. She is hurting, She is...
She is just a child, but she already bares scars...She is breaking, She is...
She just want's her step Daddy to love her...

She tries to pick up the peices, but she drops them into a pit of sorrow...She is losing herself, She is..
Daddy's best friend cornered her and took advantage of her. She is impure, She is...
Again the child is broken, She is...

Scared
Dying
Breaking
Impure..
Slowly, losing herself.

Thankful for the visible light that guides me further away from darkness, but fearful of emaciated version of me pulling me back into my former self.
The two lives I have to choose are wrapping around me burying their thorns deep into my flesh.
To choose family and loved ones or to choose to wither away yet again until I am six feet under.
Ana is whispering into my ear such sweet things, that she'll always be there, that she knows what I need to be happy.
I should know better...
I should know better..

Memories of the coldest winters.
Fresh cuts on my wrists, bones pressing against my skin.
Stories and poems to discuss my latest sin.
Perfection, darkness, my obsession with thin.
I was truly satisfied with the evil bind I was in.
So new to this world, so colleen.
Learning the evils of this world at the age of fourteen.
Perhaps I too am guilty, for being obsessed with this age.
Of my former self who was hurt, and filled with rage.

Destined To Fail.

In a perfect world, I'd only dream that I'd mean the world to you.
Or that I wouldn't linger as Her shadow.
A life without living up to Her standards, or a simple moment where I am an individual.
I am not Her, I will never be Her.
You are dragging me backwards into a memory that you cannot let go of.
I am now stuck in that time.
Am I loved as an individual or loved as a reminder?
Or possibly a regret...
I only take the love I can, and hope to not feel like Her shadow.
The shadow of your first love.

We've created life.
Oh we've created life, what a wonderful joy.
But he is fragile and easily breakable, not just a toy.
I'll be your loving mother, so loving and dear.
And avoid that other personality that lies so near.
Don't mind her, she's not the real me.
Not the person I truly am or want to be.
Your mother truly does have a real name.
It's Kristin, not Ana in this hard to solve game.

Nice collection of writes.