How to Hate My Very Love
How tragic is the story of the lady on White Chapel road
How her love so dear and faithful was scared of death row
Now her veins full of poison thick as oil and hate
That poison she spits out to feed her pet snake
And yet she remains in the darkest hours of night
Though in hell were Satan never leaves her sight
With her love so thin and frail and on his dying bed
He whispers his last words to her ears which they fed
To the cliff she goes now that lady on White Chapel road
To step off that steep cliff to what pain waits below
MY GARDEN IS MY SAFE PLACE
I have a garden where I dream
It is where roses kiss and lilies gleam
It is where I share my joys
Where wind and birds make the only noise
It is where I share my tears
It is where those who have past, feel near
A place where I can curl up to read and write
A place free of darkness and fright
It is where I can whisper a secret song
It is where I belong
My garden is my safe place
sorry it was saying my second poem was to short so i had to post them together.
How tragic is the story of the lady on White Chapel road
How her love so dear and faithful was scared of death row
Now her veins full of poison thick as oil and hate
That poison she spits out to feed her pet snake
And yet she remains in the darkest hours of night
Though in hell were Satan never leaves her sight
With her love so thin and frail and on his dying bed
He whispers his last words to her ears which they fed
To the cliff she goes now that lady on White Chapel road
To step off that steep cliff to what pain waits below
MY GARDEN IS MY SAFE PLACE
I have a garden where I dream
It is where roses kiss and lilies gleam
It is where I share my joys
Where wind and birds make the only noise
It is where I share my tears
It is where those who have past, feel near
A place where I can curl up to read and write
A place free of darkness and fright
It is where I can whisper a secret song
It is where I belong
My garden is my safe place
sorry it was saying my second poem was to short so i had to post them together.
I have twenty pairs of X-His from the Converse store next door, all pink. Okay, okay, see? I'm not normal. And that's not the end of it.
I have thirty T-shirts that say Sheep Vampires Rock on them. Yeah, I love the horror movie "Sheep Vampires." It's filled with sheep that get tortured and wake up at midnight only to turn into sheep vampires that suck the blood out of their shepherds. It's rated R, but my parents never notice. I bet they don't even know there's a rating system. Lucky for me.
So, this morning, I woke up, when my glass of Coke left from an year ago shimmered. A misty face appeared.
"Jonas...come here to me...or you shall suffer the consequences...like your precious ancestors," the woman screamed.
Was it my imagination...or did I get sucked into my glass of Coke?