My Poems
United States
February 6, 2008
The smell of violence and the smell of kill.
The sound of horror and terrified screaming.
It is the only place the sun’s not beaming.
A place of swings where no children will play.
For I stand by the graveyard where they most lay.
I see drunks laying all over the alley,
And an ambulance down in the valley.
Poor children living a life of violence
With horrifying homes filled with silence.
Violent blood shed on the street
And a child who lays there that has been beat
In fear of their parents. I hear children crying
Living in a valley that is somehow dying.
I see the blood on the walls in the alley
And the ambulance is down in the valley.
The sun won’t shine in a place of horror.
The children cry and the parents beat more.
Living in a family with a father who's a drunk
And a mother who smokes dope and a lot of junk.
The hospital is full of children bruised
And many are still home being abused.
I see shadows of death in the alley
And the ambulance is down in the valley.
The graveyard is full and there will be many more
If the abused do not stop in this horror.
Rain pours down from all the tears
That God sheds for people’s fears.
Defenseless children can not play
For in their abusive homes is where they must stay.
I see a place of horror and a lonely alley
And the ambulance is down in the valley.
I see a cry for help throughout the place
And fear from a child’s terrified face.
At nighttime the moon is gray
Like a horror movie I saw one day.
A poor child who doesn’t own a toy
Because the parents won’t buy for the little boy.
I still see loneliness in that alley
And the ambulance is down in the valley.
Careless children, fresh as sin
And some have forgotten how to grin.
Children suffer, deliberately burned and bruised
From poor parents who themselves were abused.
And with violent anger on their mind
It makes them beat on any child they find.
A pool of blood lay in the alley
And the ambulance is down in the valley.
The abuse is increasing day by day.
The valley full of pain and the sky still gray.
A little child in a corner is what I find
And visions of the abuse still haunts her mind.
Seventy percent of children are abused every day.
The parents get upset and the children pay.
Horrified children and a lonely alley
And the ambulance is down in the valley.
In the 1960’s abuse was first identified
And since then many children have died.
Blood in the valley and a child in pain.
Somehow this world has gone insane.
Nobody will help or try to prevent the abuse.
No one deserves this; there is no excuse.
In the village by the alley
The ambulance is down in the valley.
The pain and suffering have gotten out of hand.
The poor children can not even stand.
Some in wheel chairs and some in a cast
And some just trying to forget about the past.
Some do not know how love would feel.
Some scarred for life that will never heal.
Screaming, yelling, the sight of the alley
And the ambulance is down in the valley.
One story that is so sad
Is when a stepmother got so mad.
The children could not tie their laces
And fear poured out from their terrified faces.
She beat them till the blood ran free.
I am just glad this never happened to me.
The children and their visions of the alley
The ambulance is down in the valley.
Think of all the problems the world must face.
Please stop the abuse in this horrible place.
Poor children who may never see
What a wonderful place this could be.
What I am trying to say is think of their pain.
Do not think of your problems and complain,
Unless you have visions of the alley
Because the Ambulance is still down in the valley.
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02:09 PM Aug 27 2008 |
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taylored_panda
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February 6, 2008
February 6, 2008
The blood
Dripping slowly
From my veins to the floor
Starting out slow
Then I feel the life
Its leaving me
Quicker and quicker
With every staggered breath
My tears
They’re meeting the blood
Mixing together
Thick as wine
The feel is surreal
The feeling isn’t real
There is nothing left to feel
My world is leaving me
I’m leaving it all behind
My mistakes
My regrets
The things I never should’ve done
The things I left unsaid
Words of a dying poet
A dying romantic
Just words
With no meaning
Everything and nothing
Let it go
Leave it all behind
