Unlimmited poetry

I love writing poems and I wanted to show them off. Plz pardon my poor spelling=).

If you want the explination to one of them, do the following::: Click "I don't understand" under the poem. Then skip clicking anything else. If you don't understand another one, just go back to the quiz and do the same with that one.

Created by: Reanna15146

  1. What is your age?
  2. What is your gender?
  1. These are a series of poems I've written. If you don't understand one, or want to know the meaning, Just click on "I don't understand". Remember to only do that one poem at a time, or you may not get the right one in results. If you don't understand multiple ones, come back and do them one at a time.
  2. Snow Falls In My Eyes::: I sit under the black and grey sky, wishing for you to come. You said you'd be here. Snow falls in my eyes as I wait for you. Snow falls in my eyes as I hold your letter close to my chest, me eturnal protector from the darkness. Snow falls in my eyes, mixing with the tears I now shed, though I still believe in you. Snow falls in my eyes even as I go, leaving behind a letter and the shell of a silent, still girl. Snow falls in my eyes, even when I see from them no more.
  3. One Who Sings::: One who sings is always silent, just as one who rushes is always late. Perhaps this is fate, or perhaps it's the heart's way. The girl who keeps quiet sings the most beautifully, for that is her only chance to give her voice. One who sings runs from danger, yet drifts twards it as well. One who sings is truely loud. One who sings is always silent.
  4. Don't Look::: Don't look. Not at me. The rain falling upon me comes as a thousand eyes, enhancing my shame. Do you know what you would see, should you look in my eyes? I do not wish to know. Would I see a similar deamon, were I to look in yours, or perhaps the angel we each wish to be. Either way, don't look. Don't be so cruel as to look. You are so cruel to look when I can't even move. I see the fear and anger in the eyes who peer into my own. Don't look. Not at me.
  5. Naive Cliff::: They hurt me. In my distress I follow a bird that calls my name, urging me to move. At first the bird is small and glides slowly. It soon grows and moves at a speed that forces me to run. My energy drains quickly. At the moment when I'm about to stop, something comes into veiw. I stop as the cliff approches. With a stroke of it's mighty wings, the bird glides over the cliff, not bound as I am. I has followed the calling bird. Now I'm lost and alone, never to trust again.
  6. Here Again::: I'm here again. This place has become my sanctuary. It's the same place, yet it's very different. The same crimson sand. The same black, still water. It startes changing so long ago. That boy found my castle. No big deal. It had happened before. I relaxed, thinking no one could intrude on me. Suddenly, I became aware my walls had a crack. When had it happened? Soon the stones began to crumble. This was new. The boy now stood before me, a smile on his face. Now he's here, in my world. That is the change. My sand is now grass and my waters blue. Somehow, after all that, I'm here again.
  7. Mr.Monster::: Deep in my veins are the fires of hell. They burn eturnally. I am a monster. This line has been burnt into my heart. Though you don't see my fangs or claws, I am the monster they all seek to destroy. They all say it's true, so it must be, right? I can feel the demon blood boil within me. Sometimes it gets out. But it's not me, it's the monster. It likes to hurt them. It destroyed them, not me. I try to help, but he holds me back. I plead with him to stop, but Mr.Monster never listens. Mr.Monster hurts me yoo. He burns me.
  8. Golden-Rimmed::: I see a flower, blue and golden-rimmed. It floats in a pond of innocent blood. No matter how far I reach, it only seems to drift further away. So instead of reaching further, I sit on a stone and watch. The blossom does not move unless I try to reach. I sit cold and silent along side it in the crimson pond. Slowly, it wilts. The small beauity in my world. Somehow, I'm not dissapointed. It was a cruel beauity, as are all. The flower just sat there, silently mocking me. It was lovely, yet it grew to be the ugliest thing, still golden-rimmed.
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