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Angela Holcomb Poem
The end of it all is creeping near,
and this is what I tell those I hold dear.
The angels and demons fighting within,
tearing at my soul beneath my skin.
The tears I cry some cleanse my soul,
while others fill an endless hole.
I fight the curse of unhappieness each and every day,
down on my knees to my God I do pray.
Still the fight for my soul rages on,
I hope the angels win before I am gone.
By: Angela Holcomb
Copyright © Angela Holcomb | Year Posted 2011
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Angela Holcomb Poem
A little boy plays quietly on the floor,
as an elderly woman walks through the door.
The little boy turns a smile on his face,
then the smile vanishes without a trace.
He says " I thought mommy was here to play",
please tell me when mommy will be home to stay.
The older woman with tears in her eyes,
can only answer the boy with unsure lies.
She tells him soon so have no fear,
your mommy loves you and will soon be here.
So with a glimer of hope in this inocent heart,
he waits for the day him and his mommy are no longer apart.
By: Angela Holcomb
Copyright © Angela Holcomb | Year Posted 2011
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Angela Holcomb Poem
Rage
Twisting my insides until they burn, leaving only the cruelest lesson one must learn.
Clawing its way into the depths of my soul,tearing me open and leaving its hole.
Drowning me slowly with each passing day,any hope of escaping has drifted away.
The demon that lurks under the surface of me,my demon in time my weak mind will
set free. Causing damage that cannot be expressed on a page,for my demon is real
and his name is RAGE.
By: Angela Spencer-Holcomb
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Copyright © Angela Holcomb | Year Posted 2011
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Angela Holcomb Poem
Born a mistake in your eyes,
made to grow believing your lies.
Time goes on but my pain does grow,
why I am here nobody knows.
Everything I touch burns to the ground,
even my loved ones I can not keep around.
Torn on the inside by the truth that is me,
and always feeling nothing I will be.
Cause if the one who made me hates me so,
then so does the world and now I know.
I know I am a joke, a mistake, a lie,
and this is the truth I live with till the day I die.
By: Angela Holcomb
Copyright © Angela Holcomb | Year Posted 2011
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Angela Holcomb Poem
Seething with anger and hatred twards all,
adding each day another brick to my wall.
Memories beseech me my nightmares unending,
viewing my life by being condisending.
Evil and darkness run rampit in my head,
and I wish once again for me to be dead.
No more pain I must hide and hold,
no more anger to release and unfold.
Peace in no existance,rest in death,
who needs life when all life has left?
A souless body wondering in shame,
and my own cowardly demond is the only one I can blame.
By: Angela Holcomb
Copyright © Angela Holcomb | Year Posted 2011
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Angela Holcomb Poem
I have a demon on the inside,
and behind my eyes is where he hides.
My soul a pit an abyss of rage,
my battered body his only cage.
Until I find the will to fight,
hell will be my only sight.
Pain and anger is all I feel,
for in my life this is what is real.
So tell me why I cannot cry,
why this thing inside me will not die.
Why can't anyone understand,
grab me from my demons hand.
Take back my soul and give life through death,
without hope or faith I take a fatal breath.
The breath of rage my demon gives,
and with this breath the demon is all that lives.
So gouge out my eyes the demons home,
and leave me at rest my soul alone.
Then take my hand and with your love,
bring back my soul from just feet above.
For you are my hope, my faith, my all,
and with you by my side my demon will fall.
By: Angela Holcomb
Copyright © Angela Holcomb | Year Posted 2011
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Angela Holcomb Poem
Broken windows, broken doors, holes in the walls, glass on the floors.
Two broken people with two broken hearts, maybe these two are better off apart.
For broken wings make it hard to flyand not all broken things heal with time.
For broken is not the true finality but in my case a very sad reality.
Still in the end I will be as good as new knowing I will never be as broken as you.
By: Angela Holcomb
Copyright © Angela Holcomb | Year Posted 2011
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Angela Holcomb Poem
Bad days come and bad days go,
and on bad days your true colors do show.
They show your feelings bottled inside,
and all the pressure of swallowing your pride.
Bad days feel like they will never end,
even when you share your badest of days with a friend.
Still in all bad days a lesson is learned,
some bridges stand while others are burned.
Bad days come and bad days go,
so take your bad days and in them grow.
By: Angela Holcomb
Copyright © Angela Holcomb | Year Posted 2011
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