The River (Poem)

Majestic river of my past memories
I hope she’s still flowing beautifully
Her face is still ever present
Her soul is still so iridescent
She’s gone but part of her is still here
She gave me love and she took my fear
I released all the feelings that I once kept locked
But now she’s gone and I feel lost

All of my secrets were washed away
I hope they won’t be found at shore or at bay
I told the river all that I kept inside
Because I finally found a place to hide
I would’ve been willing to drown or get ripped apart
Just so I could get closer to her heart
I would’ve done anything for that river
And now she’s gone, but I forgive her

Vermillion (Poem)

I’ve been listening to Vermillion Pt. 2 by Slipknot lately, and one day I was just inspired to write a poem based off of it. Hope you guys enjoy it.

She sleeps in white but dreams in black
Stepping on grass and shards of shattered glass
He sky is faded and void of color
Her dreams are filled with her vanished lover

Her once pure dress is covered in dirt
The one that she has worn since birth
It flaps in the wind she doesn’t feel
She lives in a world that isn’t real

She sings the song that nobody else sings
Wraps the gifts that no one else needs
She keeps everything locked up inside herself
She’s the victim that nobody tries to help

It’s spring but she feels colder than winter
She is a deep and hidden splinter
Stuck inside of me that I can get out
She’s silent even when she wants to shout

Plastic (Poem)

I feel like I’m made of plastic
Sewn together by strings of anger and pain
And tied up by a tight elastic
That attempts to keep me sane

It just pains me this is how I’m living
Like a shattered man on a sinking ship
This car of pain is tired of being driven
And I’m too weak to tighten my grip

I’m starting to accept this depression
And that’s the thing that scares me the most
I’m too broken to give a good impression
Dead enough inside to be a ghost

I hold the shattered vase of my life
Wondering when did it break
I stare on the table at this sharpened knife
Wondering how much life there’s even left to take

The Man in the Chair

The man just sits in his chair, thinking of love, he has that feeling of wanting someone, but also feeling a prevalent uneasiness, getting number each day. The man just sits in his chair, counting the days he’s been lonely, counting the number of times he’s felt shattered or broken. The man just sits in his chair, watching all his friends and all who are close to him spending times with the ones they love, feeling more depressed every day, trying to keep his wall of happiness from crumbling. The man just sits in his chair, not caring about the time or the day, the week or the month, or anything but the one he needs, he just wonders when all of his pain will be washed away.