Shadow-Shi13

The cool breeze rustling the leaves, Harmonic The moonlight peeking through the trees, Beautiful The slight cold of the air, Gentle The darkness gentle on the eye, Comforting He looks down at him and smiles, The Moon He look up at his other and grins, The Earth They twinkle, happily shedding their joy, The Stars He looks at the scene created by him, His cloak of darkness making him a little more than A mere shadow A small smile upon his lips, Watching what everyone calls night, Him, The Night

Vincent looked at his reflection. Mirrors were fascinating things. The perfection of the glass, the way it was able to reflect an image exactly. But this mirror lied. It showed a man. A man with pale, flawless skin and silky black hair that swept past his shoulders and rolled down his back. A perfectly pointed nose and elegantly arched eyebrows. A surprisingly handsome man of twenty-seven. Yes. The mirror lied. It did, however, show the truth of his eyes. Brilliant crimson eyes that held a strange, demonic glow. But mirrors only showed what was seen on the outside. If the mirror showed the monster he was inside. The Turk. The assassin. The ex

Confusion running through my mind, Chaos in a void. Looking for a clue to find In this sea, Devoid. Sadness flowing through my veins, Apparent yet, unclear. In this mind, chaos reigns Laughing at my fear. Pointless wandering, Never ending. Always pondering, Thoughts not sending. Life disclosed. It hates me so. Thoughts exposed Through fear, let go. Confusion running through my mind In a sea I cannot find. Looking for a clue In this never ending blue.

For once there is no light of day, For the day is dark and gray. The cries I hear I do not fear, For him is he and she is I And once again I will not die. And Death will not go away, Nor will he come today. Death is here, Death is there, He is always everywhere. He is lost and I am gone And once again, Death has won.

The day is hot, The night is cold, My throat is dry But I am bold Farther I go Beyond the sand, Beyond the snow, Past the grass, the hills, the trees And once again I'm on my knees For I am tired and I am weak And my cut has sprung a leek I watch the blood, I will not cry And, oh, I much too young to die. I push ahead, not much farther now. I trip and fall the rest of the way, "Ow," I say, "This isn't my day." I look up and start to grin. There his is, my next-of-kin "Yes, I am here, I'm finally home!" "You want anything?" "Just get me a comb."

My Friend the Spider, Climbing up the wall. Big for a spider. I hope he doesn't fall. I met him one night Before I went to bed. He was there, on the ceiling Right above my head. I said "Hi" he stayed silent But that's okay, I know he's shy. Even now, he rarely talks to me But he does tell me good bye. My Friend the Spider moves very fast. Quick as lighting at times. Like now, while he climbs my wall, Filling my head with rhymes. He told me that my mother died In a very quiet voice. So like him, very quiet... He didn't have a choice. But how did he know? I didn't even know. My mother was dead? How sad. Why didn't papa t

The wind is cooling, The sky begins to darken. A storm is coming.

                Shining                        light upon                              the land,                                   across the                                       desert on                                          the sand,                                             over the                                               mountains                                                 through                                                  the fog,                                                   on the                                                    creatures                                            

Does Time start? Does it end? Is it foe? Or is it friend? "It takes Time," They say to me. How long? I wonder, yes, how long? How long must it take to be free? To live my life as a song.... What kind of song? Does it stop? Will I dance 'Til I drop? "Time will never end," They say. So Time is a life cycle, is it not? Will I ever have my way? Is it my fate, to be caught? Does Time leave? Does it go? Am I lost In this snow? "Make Time yours," They say to me. Should I watch as Time flys by? Should I just let it be Up until the day I die? Will Time forever be unsolved? Will my life be incomplete? When all has fallen, died

When life gets tough, You get your knife. When life just sucks, You take your life. When you have problems, When no one cares. The scars on your arms. All the stares. The blade of the knife Held up to your wrist. The blood leaking out. Your hand in a fist. There is no pain. You do not start. Nothing compares To the pain in your heart. If you're in the mood You might get artistic. Carve a morbid message "I am sadistic." "I hate" "Life sucks" "Screw the world" Most don't understand What it's like to suffer. "There are people in the world worse off than you." Do you care? Oh no. You're apathetic. Emotionless. Indiff