first attempt at a goth poem

screw rhyming and lines and structures and rules


beneath this layer of soft golden skin
lies a heart
that's been stolen and bruised
the once vibrant shade of rose is now
a charcoal grey with tiny specks of pink
those drowning specks look for each other
there's not much time left
they stretch their arms out toward one another
trying to spread any color left over
to try and save this dying heart
and while the demons of the heart fight with the few but hopeful specks

these twinkling eyes carry a deep deep dark secret
that is being drowned by the callouses of the heart
and every time the mind plays the repressing games
the heart shrinks even tighter and smaller

don't let these eyes fool you
they're screaming for your attention
for you to understand and to listen to the stories of a broken heart
desperate for love
dying for peace

this is my dying heart
this is my war
this is the blood in me screaming for liberty

and no one can set me free
except for myself:

the single most important ingredient to healing the soul

all it takes is a cup of forgiveness

poems

Mad Girl's Love Song by Sylvia Plath

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
--------------

Mirror by Sylvia Plath

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful --
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.