She's got words on her arms
In the language of a broken heart
And they say
They say I wanna be loved
But I don't know how
I wanna dream
Haven't done it in a while
I wanna smile
Won't somebody give me
Author's note: This is a poem about a close friend of mine. The "words on her arms" are an analogy, for well, cuts. She wouldn't talk to me much at the time, but I saw them and that was all that really needed to be said, since she knew she couldn't fool me. Anyway, that was the inspiration for this.
She is doing much better now, by the way, in case anyone was concerned...
As the sun sets
and the twilight comes out,
as the birds and squrriels are no where in sight.
As the whores and pimps sit on street corners,
waiting for street lights to turn from green to red.
As cadillacs stop and roll their windows down.
I can her the faint cry deep in the darkness,
of dirty gutters and dark, dead end alleyways,
I hear the faint tears fall and hit concrete pavement.
I feel the faint cries of whores,
I hear the sound of backhand hitting face
and brused tissue and broken noses are everywhere.
And the somber tears fall onto pillow cases,
and white motel bedsheets run red with blood
and cheap Italian wine.
And you can her the poet over the radio,
reading his own work for the one millionth time
and you can hear his soul slowly wanting to die.
He drowns himself in smoke and alcohol
the whore takes her pay, or spends a night in a jail cell,
the pimp nowhere to be found,
with a shiny blade stuck deep in his gut.
And the somber tears fall gently on the concrete pavement,
the floors of a jail cell,
tears on the pillow case and tears on a lonesome stage.
Tears never present, but are seen by many,
pain aches and pain takes away,
and I pour one more drink for the whore.
She takes me away,
and I caught her salty, somber tear,
and she crawled into my warm embrace.
I was the one who stuck the blade in the gut of that pimp,
who broke her nose and made her bleed,
with a cowardess and souless backhand.
I walk into the moonlight,
hearing the somber tears all around me,
crash violently to the concrete pavement.
The Earth rumbles and erupts with these tears,
that are shead for fellow Men, and Women and Children,
but we all look at ourselves and smile.
Happy we don't pay rent,
happy we don't have cancer,
happy we aren't six feet under;
But we still all cry,
Somber tears all fall in one big wave
crashing violently on the concrete pavement.
Now the red light turns green,
and the traffic moves along,
the whore is still at her corner,
the pimp still with the blade in his gut.
All turned down to the worst
as the children lost innocence,
as the bums drank their last breath away,
as the man eating sharks finding their way,
to the over-crowded sandy beaches,
as the man turn to the woman
and gave her a slap across the face,
as the thef steals in the night,
as the coward goes behind his loved ones' backs,
as the oil lanterns spill over and burn the bridges
to salvation and paradise.
Something always happens to the good guy,
a knife in the back in the midst of dawn,
his woman leaving with another man,
he dying slowly of cancer,
or suffering from intoxication of the blood.
Poison. Poison, ravages his body,
oh, how could God let such things happen
to such a good man?
His life work, his social life, his nirvana
all destroied, burned away, turned to dust.
But with the evil, came the good.
Yes with time and time again
repeating itself in a circle of time,
across the crossed faces,
as blue eyed Death smiles
and as the girls grin,
Everything came into place,
Anyway with evil, came the good.
Indeed it had came right to his front doorstep.
I do not know?
It tells a story.....
It shows emotion.....
The story of a girl....
she wasn't excepted.....
no one ........
except one thing.....
It calmed her......
No ridicule from people......
Even though there was no love.....
It was better then a world of hate.....
the name calling......
The abuse .......
It hurt but when it was silent.......
The world faded.......
silence was her savior.......
silence was her bliss........
silence is bliss.......
I do not know?
She lives in misery,
She goes to school where she gets bullied, pushed around, and called names,
Her parents hate her,
She has no friends, and her whole world is dark,
No one likes her,
Sometimes she wonders if anyone would care if she killed herself.
She cries herself to sleep,
A lost soul,
The one who relies on her bands and music to carry her through,
The one who grabs the razor blade,
She cuts fast, deep, and hard,
She likes the cold metal, she likes the blood that comes down,
She likes that burning feel, she loves the relief,
Many people call her a little emo *****,
All she wants is for people to leave her alone.
Many people says she does this for attention,
But all she wants is to be happy,
She thinks maybe if she ends it all,
Everyone would be happy, and live in peace,
She thinks they would never know she was gone.
She walks home from school on a rainy Tuesday afternoon,
She goes through the door,
Right up those steps,
She takes the pills and blade out.
She takes all sixty pills of Oxycotton,
And then she starts cutting, first just across her wrist, and then she had a twist,
She painted a picture onw wouldn't surely miss,
She wrote on her arm, "All I wanted was love."
Her mother found her first,
She cried so much,
Her father came in and comforted her mum,
No tears he had shed,
Her brother came in next and fell to his knees,
He saw all the blood and knew something was up,
He asks their mum,
"Mummy why isn't sissy breathing and blood everywhere?"
She replied faintly,
"Dear, your sister was unhappy."
He was much too young to understand.
The girls that bullied you now get bullied,
That boy that never admitted to liking you cuts and cries,
Your exfriend cries and tries committing suicide,
Your teachers try to hold it together, but lose it,
Your brother grew older and found the truth about his older sister.
The one he loved so much, and wanted to be like her,
All the pain she endured.
He found her iPod,
He takes it with him everywhere,
He remembers his sister and the bands she loved,
And now he loves them,
He cuts to rid the pain,
He only wants to be with her again.
But he carries out her legacy everyday,
Knowing that is what she would want him to do,
And he did this all thanks to her.
She's tried to stop him,
Was beside him while he cut,
Tried pushing the blade away,
She's a living dead girl,
Nothing she could do nor say,
To make him put that blade away.
You are a bully that hides in front of a computer sending out messages of lies, disrespect,
If you have to hide in front of a computer to bully me, you're not very brave at all. In
fact, you are a phony and a fake.
I actually feel sorry for you as you hopelessly linger in your pathetic state.
The truth about me or any kid you're bullying will eventually come out. Truth is frightening
for you, isn't it? Because you know the truth will seal your fate.
You hide in front of a computer for hours at a time.
Your time would be better spent if you somehow discovered how, with other kids, you could
become nice and kind.
You hide in front of a computer to go about your daily routine of bullying other kids.
One day your computer will crash and along with it, your despicable bullying empire, too.
Just maybe then, you'll feel somewhat sorry for all the unnecessary bullying you did.
Your very good at destroying
Young girls hearts who are enjoying
The attention that you give
But it is no way to live
When you control their every action
To fulfill the satisfaction
Of the men you share them with
Girls too young to know that this
Is not what love should really be
But they're confused and so lonely
Runaways that have nowhere
To go so you steal their
Innocence and make them think
You saved them all from the brink
Of living cold and alone
Pretending you'll give them a home
And as much care as they need
They're only helping you succeed
To make money every time
Their virtues put on the line
Your the worst scum of them all
Using girls so scared and small
I hope one day your found dead
With a bullet in your head
From someone trying to save
These girls from an early grave