awr.
basically i have some poetry and i feel like posting it.
cos i can.
i'll probably find more soon.
so yeah.
here goes:
Three
Three people stand before the child
Lined up all in a row
She watches them so closely
About them all to know

The first one is a woman
Her long and shiny hair
Those piercing green eyes watch the child
In her heart is so much care

The child looks about the woman
Taking in all to see
A woman so full of love and hugs
Who's there for every plea

The second is a boy
His not so shabby attire
In his arms he's held her tight
And kept her from the fire

The child looks above him
See's his halo shining bright
To her the boy's an angel
With him it'll be alright

The last one is a girl
10 older than the child
Her eyes blaze full of fury
But her heart is always mild

The child watches her
14 beyond her years
A hellish life she lives
Shedding but so many tears

These three they mean so much
One small world to a kid
And even though they are this much
For each one thing be rid

For the woman she rids the trust
For the boy rids all their ties
And for the girl she rids the most
She rids all but her lies

A criminal child
A relationship theft
She's robbed those she loves
And now no one is left

No one to hide her from the hold
Hide her from the heat
Shield her from the darkness
Or hold her when she's fallen in defeat

My Room (Not really a poem)
this place is safe. i am safe here. nobody goes in or out without my knowledge. it's my haven. i am free here. i can think and do as i please. nobody can stop me. im okay sleeping here. the lulling sound of classical music. the perfect disorder of things. i know every crack and creavous. i thrive here. what was once a prison to me is now where i belong. the panes on the windows may remind me of bars, but aleast they keep things out. everything in here is perfect to me. i love it all. i want to stay here forever. sometimes my lonely fantasies come back. all the old games, old friends. they're all here; dead, but here. somethings change daily in here, but it still looks the same. a changing monotany. a room full of oxymorons. me the most obvious. i drink it all in, an eager child, wanting more. the mirror, the bulletin boards, the dresser, they all scream "NAYA". they are mine. i cherish them. yet somehow i dont want them. another oxymoron, another addition to the lengthy list.

awr.
i have to go.
i have some more that i'll post later.