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Kristen Wallen Poem
I am a very special shape; I have four sides and four lines straight.
Look beyond my words, and see the shape that I am destined to
Be. I'm not just random words drawn out of thin air, I am much
More than that. I am a quadrilateral with four right angles and I
Have two lines of reflectional symmetry and rotational symmetry.
My angles are rectilinear; my sides meet at right angles. You
Learn this at school with your ABC's, practice your studies and
You will see some other fine examples of me.
Copyright © Kristen Wallen | Year Posted 2010
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Kristen Wallen Poem
Depression,
Casting shadows,
Sadness overtaking fast
It threatens to last
Forever.
Copyright © Kristen Wallen | Year Posted 2010
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Kristen Wallen Poem
Dear make-up-wearing-emo-kid,
I hope you're having fun. I hope your life is good.
I wish you well, but I'm curious, do you wish the
same for me? I mean, you don't even talk to me
anymore. When you do talk to me, it's to question
me about my sexuality, what clothing I'm wearing
at the moment, basically anything relating to sex.
So, it's hard to tell you apart from those perverted
old creeps you might see on TV, looking up the
skirts of MILF's as they stroll on by.
Dear skinny-confused-emo-kid,
It's not about looks. It's about what's inside.
It's not about sex, it's about the love in a relationship.
It's not about having to lie to me and make me feel
like you love me, because there are millions of girls out there.
I'm not the only one to chase. I'm sure there are lots of other
girls who would just love to let you chase their skirts and
hear you lie to them repeatedly. I'm just sick of it all.
I don't need you, and you sure as hell don't need me.
Dear traitor,
You built me up,
you broke me down.
You got what you wanted.
I hope you're happy.
Wipe the smirk off your face,
I don't care that you've succeeded in making me fall for you
I don't care that you're freaking gorgeous.
I don't care.
I am not your toy.
I am not your slave.
And I am most definitely not your 'baby girl'.
Just because you have my heart doesn't mean that you can control me.
I'm not yours.
I'm my own person.
I'm me.
And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.
But never mind that now, I must go. Mother is calling me to come to supper. Until next
time, you traitor.
Sincerely,
A-broken-hearten-clown.
Copyright © Kristen Wallen | Year Posted 2010
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Kristen Wallen Poem
Life
Short
Spiraling fast
Gaining happiness
At last
Copyright © Kristen Wallen | Year Posted 2010
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Kristen Wallen Poem
I once had a rabbit named Hopper.
My father had bought him for me on my birthday.
He was small and all white except for little black spots
on his back. He was a happy little thing, always moving around,
Never once staying in the same place. He liked to hop all day,
hop all night, hop, hop, hop, until he couldn't stop.
Hopper was no ordinary rabbit, I was sure.
Other rabbits just sat there, proving to be a bore,
Whilst Hopper sprang about, sniffing the underwear
in my mother's drawers, biting the heads off of flowers in
Grandmother's garden, and trying, but failing miserably to
bite his own stubby tail, twirling and twirling around in circles.
I loved playing with Hopper. I loved him like he was my own brother.
Hopper and I were inseparable. I looked out for him and he looked
out for me. We had each others backs. We stuck together like glue.
We would stay together forever, I decided, 'till death do us part.
Until one day, I couldn't find him. I looked high, I looked low,
My parents and I searched everywhere we could think of, but
came up with nothing. I was getting really worried, but I willed
myself not to cry. My grandfather once told me that men did
not cry, no matter what happened, so I didn't, because I was
a man and I would find Hopper, I just knew I would.
And I was right. I did find Hopper.
He was lying in the middle of a street downtown, ripped open,
sliced clean down the middle so that I could see all of his insides.
A pool of blood surrounded his body. His left leg twitched for only a
slight moment before going completely still.
I wanted to cry, Oh God I did, but I was afraid of disgracing my grandfather
and the rest of my family. Because, as he told me, men do not cry, no matter
what happened. They stood tall and fierce against the violent wind.
And that's what I did: I stood tall, I stood fierce, despite the loss of my dear friend
I called Hopper.
Copyright © Kristen Wallen | Year Posted 2010
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Kristen Wallen Poem
Don’t label me,
I’m not a freak
I’m not an anorexic that doesn’t eat
I’m not a “Lesbo”
I’m not a ****
I’m not an emo girl that cuts and cuts
I’m not a prep
I’m not a Goth
But please don’t go thinking I’m soft
I’m not a geek,
I don’t attention seek
So, what if I’m black?
I don’t do crack
I’m just me
And that’s all I’ll ever be
Don’t like it?
You’ll be working for me one day,
You just wait and see.
Copyright © Kristen Wallen | Year Posted 2011
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Kristen Wallen Poem
He loves me? He loves me not?
The last petal falls and suddenly I’m hot.
Hot all over, the room is spinning,
I’m fighting to stay up, I’m certainly not winning
My legs are shaking,
My heart is aching
The knife is close, oh so very near
It’s right on the table; don’t you see it, dear?
Time is running out fast,
Rest assured, this breath will be my last
No one has to worry about me and my crap anymore
I’m sinking to my death, my blood decorating the floor
Then, when I die, Let us dance, darling, in the depths of this Hell
Our souls festering, burning, do not dwell
And then, finally, we shall break this venomous love spell.
Copyright © Kristen Wallen | Year Posted 2010
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Kristen Wallen Poem
Being young,
At the time, I thought I was in love,
For he was an angel that fell from above.
Copyright © Kristen Wallen | Year Posted 2010
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Kristen Wallen Poem
Flying,
Beautiful,
Terrifying creatures.
As a young girl,
I went to a butterfly museum
on a school field trip.
I'll never forget that day
these colorful, fragile
little things with wings
were flying in the open
air as I entered the spacious
place.
Cages were forbidden
They were free
They could rest
and perch anywhere they pleased.
They didn't have a care in
the world.
A few of them landed on my
shoulder, my chest, and my
arms, and I panicked.
My cousin was there and
she laughed and pointed
as I flailed and screamed
doing anything to get these
terrifying little beauties
off of me.
It worked.
Frightened, they fluttered away
only to land on someone else
and, me, I dodged every other
one of those monsters that
came my way.
After it all ended, and we were
loading back on the school bus,
I was relieved that those harmless
little beasts weren't anywhere near
me anymore.
Those Flying
Terrifyingly
Beautiful
Creatures.
Copyright © Kristen Wallen | Year Posted 2010
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Kristen Wallen Poem
Wonderland is such a beautiful place.
I wish I could stay there.
It’s much better than real life
Even though there’s this Jabberwocky
That I have to slay and a horrid red queen
Who has the biggest head I’ve ever see
In the shape of a heart.
My friend, the mad hatter, could do a dance
Where his head spun all the way around
When he talked, I giggled;
The crazy things he would say.
Things were going fine,
Things were quite dandy,
I was finally happy,
Until I woke up in a cold sweat
And I realized I was just dreaming.
Copyright © Kristen Wallen | Year Posted 2010
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