Nathan6672
Member
I wrote this one night after a rough day. I locked myself in my room; it was eerily quiet, but everything inside me was screaming and trying to break away from my struggling. When someone hurts me, I suck it up and walk away for fear of standing up for myself, but I'm angry beyond measure inside, and all I can think about it harming the person who hurt me. Because I'm typically a very kind, respectful, reserved person, I wrote about my anger as if it were another person who cared about me and wanted to avenge me (don't worry, I'm not skizophrenic, nor do I have multiple personality disorder; it's just a way of expressing myself). So, enough blabber. Here's the poem. =]
Internal noise disrupts the disturbing silence surrounding me;
My only friend screams for solace in my mind.
I see him murder those who want to hurt us;
The blood curdling screams of our enemies calms his fuss.
He rips out their souls then watches them die,
While he gazes silently with resentful eyes.
He avenges us both when he kills them slowly --
It feels so good when he possesses me wholly.
He’s my lover, my friend, and the idol I praise.
He’s the brother whose eyes I never escape.
Our souls intertwine like strands of rope;
Unbroken, unhindered – my only hope.
The only problem is that he isn’t real.
He’s only imaginary, something I feel.
But he’s still a part of me, existent inside,
Or perhaps he is me, just another side.
Internal noise disrupts the disturbing silence surrounding me;
My only friend screams for solace in my mind.
I see him murder those who want to hurt us;
The blood curdling screams of our enemies calms his fuss.
He rips out their souls then watches them die,
While he gazes silently with resentful eyes.
He avenges us both when he kills them slowly --
It feels so good when he possesses me wholly.
He’s my lover, my friend, and the idol I praise.
He’s the brother whose eyes I never escape.
Our souls intertwine like strands of rope;
Unbroken, unhindered – my only hope.
The only problem is that he isn’t real.
He’s only imaginary, something I feel.
But he’s still a part of me, existent inside,
Or perhaps he is me, just another side.
