Don't we all feel useless?
Sunday, November 29, 2009/3:30 AM
There's surely times in your life where you feel pretty upset about your flaws and you finally decide that suicide's the only option.Well,GET THAT OUT OF YOUR HEAD!
All you need is LOVE.
You can get it anywhere : Friends,family,teachers,colleagues,the cleaner of your HDB apartment..
Here's a poem I wrote a long time ago to express my invalid-ness.
Mistakes
I am a mistake
I'm still a mistake with every sound I make
Every breath I take
Every smile I try to fake
Everything just seems wrong,doesn't it?
Nothing I do is ever right,nothing ever fits
Just leave me,leave me very aggrieved
My happiness,no,it could no more be retrieved
God hates me,it seems,I guess
Or maybe I should be loved less
I don't know anymore,I'd rather jump down this lake
But still,nothing could change the fact that I'm a mistake.
XOXO,the P.O.E.T
Child Prodigy-SOLVED?
Saturday, November 28, 2009/9:10 AM
4-year-old Marla Olmstead(now five) seemed like an average youngster painting alongside her father.But imagine these dabs of paint being sold off at ten thousands of US dollars.
Fortunately,controversies have yet to tear this young girl's family apart.
So this poem is dedicated to her. :D
Fortunately,controversies have yet to tear this young girl's family apart.
So this poem is dedicated to her. :D
Thoughts of The Inner Marla
"It's her,the child prodigy!" one seemed to exclaim,
I've gotten used to it,since my climb to fame
The grown-ups are always blaming Daddy
but he never backs down,just like Noddy in TV.
"Just paint,honey.Pretend we're not here,"Daddy says to me,
I gave him a nod and picked up my paintbrush slowly
The giant monster cameras start 'rolling',I'm not sure where to,
Oh well,I'll just paint whatever,impromptu.
Red here,blue there,oh! I love green
and all the other colours I've seen.
I add rainbows all over the canvas with a splish and a splash,
I'm done now,so I leave the kitchen,in a flash.
After watching TV one day,Mummy looks sad;Daddy seems mad,
And somehow,I feel bad.
Is it me,Mummy? Was it my paintings on TV,Daddy?
I guess I'll never know;Daddy won't tell me.
These events might conjure riots
but Mummy and Daddy do not keep quiet.
They want the others to believe,to conceive
that they are proud of me,why they continue to live.
XOXO,the P.O.E.T
CELEBRATE IMPERFECTION!!
Friday, November 27, 2009/7:26 AM
Like this autumn leaf,imperfect people tend to fall from great heights and change according to what they believe as 'perfect'.This poem's dedicated to those imperfect people like me!
Perfect biatches can just go be perfect someplace else but here.
Perfection
doesn't come from false gibberish.
In fact,it is a clandestine contradiction,
a beautiful lie,a greater sin,an inconspicuous deal;
probably woven by the Devil himself.
XOXO,the P.O.E.T
about the P.O.E.T
Heyoo,this is .:the P.O.E.T:. speaking.
Or in other words,it's the
Onlooker of
Everyday
Truths.
I may be only sixteen,but poetry has been my other half since forever.
If you decide to dislike it,feel free to take a hike,pal.
But if otherwise,I welcome you to my haven,this blog here. <3
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