Broken mirror, Shilo Moragn [books for 7th graders .TXT] 📗

BREATHING

I just stand gaping at what as been said to me.
My breath would not come into my battered lungs.
My eyes filling with sweet tears of pain,
My mind going black with dots of memory that I should never have opened up again.
This searing pain,
I've had it before.
No it was worse.
My shallow breathing now longer slow,
But fast and goring through my lungs,
How did on make it through life,
When their mind is shattered,
Their already black heart ripped from its resting place,
And in its place a sliver stake.
With the images of blood and death flickering in the eyes,
How can one keep going when they know more then others.


My life is changing,
My eyes are closing,
My heart is pounding,
My mind it thinking,
My 6Th since coming more alive,
My spirit walking be side me,
This is what I face,
Each day as I pass you by,
Each time you look me into my eye,
This is why.

Now as you read this,
You may have a question,
It will be about what I was told,
To give you that answer I must tell you a story,
To give you that answer I must destroy a city,
To give you your answer I must seek that horrid pain once more.

You shall have to answer this your self.
For I can not give you the answer,
Because I do no know it,
Nor will I ever.

MYSELF

Pink dresses.
puffy shirts.
mini skirts.
goody to people surrounding me,
these are the things I see in my hell.

Anything girly is not for me.

Black dresses that sway to your feet,
Black lipstick
a pale face
the pentagram
and being in a moon lite room,
these are the few things I favor.

Hannah Montanan
Brittany spears
The Jonas bothers
And rap
make me want to get sick or craw in a hole and die

nickelback
nirvana
sentenced
love like blood
makes me want to live

I am who I am
I am never going to again be a rear image in your mind

WATER

The gentle sway of the waves,
the blue and green reflections of the sky and trees,
Sticking your hand in,
and having it come up clear,
with drops off clear tears dripping off.

The trashing waves,
the rising depths of watery horror,
Waves that pound into houses and takes them down,
and leaving nothing in return,
aspect a watery ground.

Light tear drop falling,
from the soft gray clouds,
touching your head,
as if it was a angels kiss,
making you feel a joy like no other.

Falling bullets droping to the ground,
from heavy black clouds,
hiting your head,
as if the devil has wrote you a deathnote,
making you feel nothing but despair.

TIME

Why are the day flying by.
Why is it every time I look at you,
l see only the words once passed.
Do you not remember the thing once said?
Why do you never remember,
that once upon a time ago it was just you and me,
until the dark realization set into both our minds,
and sweep in a dark storm,
why is it when you look at me,
l still see what was once before spoken of in you eyes,
burning there like a blood stop on a white rose.
How can you still act like life now is only a show.

l can take this no longer,
these feeling may linger,
but as time goes by,
you only now look,
because the dark realization sweep fear into you,
one day we may speak once more,
of what we spoke of,
maybe one day,
as time goes on,
we will be able to answer unspoken worries,

but until then,
I only have one question in mind,
Did you mean the sweet words,
that you once spoke to me?
or,
were they just another thing,
that that black storm,
had showed me was fake?

If they were,
then let this be known,
as my feelings my linger for now,
in time they will fade,
as well as the memory of you,
and even if they don't,
know that as long as my walls stand,
you shall never again,
pass them like you once did,

Time if moving on,
my memory might fade,
the days are long,
only when I must see you,
my words shall live on in time,
through others,
and things,
but always know,
that you meant something to me. =(

HOW YOU REMIND ME

I have lived my life differently,
But each day I am reminder on how I use to be,
Each day I come face to face with the past.
When will this end.
Each day I am told about how I use to be,
"You use to to be a little devil,"
Followed by,
"I bet you still are."
How are these thing told.
Where do these lies feed from.
"You use to fight a lot,"
Followed by,
"I don't see how your not in jail yet."
Why must someone bring in the past,
When that's over and done with.
"Didn't you get kick out of a couple schools for being fighting"
Followed by,
"I don't want my kid near you!"
Why must the past hunt my life,
Haven't I done any good to scrub that away yet.
Even now my old teachers still wonder,
How did a hell fired child become a straight A student?
"I bet its just a fake front"
Why must lies be told,
When shall the good I've done,
Be put into recognition,
Be brought up,
I am worn,
I am already beyond my age,
Must I become as old as a Greek myths,
Will I die a child with hell in her heart,
It's already black and shattered,
Must it become nothing but dust,
Is that what it take to satisfy these people,

How many days don't go by,
That I don't wish I could have done things differently.
I sit and cry,
Over my past,
I cry over the sadness it brought my family,
The pain that is forever in there minds,
As well as hearts,
The many friends I drove away.

Now you see why I am me,
Our past scars us for ever,
Inside and out,
It also changes,
how others see us.

Each day,
As l start a new page in my notebook,
I write it with tears spilling over.
As I reach in side to write my pain down,
To let it go little by little,
It comes back with each reminder,
of what I was,
and not who I am now.

This pain is growing all to formal now.
"Hey didn't you beat up that guy in 7Th grade, because he was bullying some 5Th grader?" they'd ask.
"yeah" I'd say
"right on, that was like really cool that you stood up for him."
"I guess..." I'd walk off.

Some things,
even when its bad,
can be good.

FACE

How many days have passed,
How many hearts have been broken,
How many souls have been hurt,
By the false images i feed to them.

How long has passed,
How many hours gone bye,
How many days have been darkened,
By the faces I have worn,

When shall a day come,
When shall a hour pass,
When shall a bird sing,
While I wear my true face.

How many faces do I own,
How many do I wear,
How many were truly mine,
How many will be needed in what is to come.

No one truly sees me,
Because no one truly knows me,

I shall never be seen,
Without my many images of faces,

I can not bear what may be seen,
If someone saw the real me,

Because if they did,
They wouldn't see the older me,

What they will see,
Is a mere teen,
With a tear stained face,
Hiding away,
From what she can't face.

They may see,
A girl of thirteen,
living life,
behind a wall.

They may see,
a young girl,
With a black soul,
A blacken heart,
because what she has seen.

If they looked into my dreams,
They may be scared for life,
Because of the blackness,
That lurks in my mind,
Because of the blackness,
That is my only safety.

How many more days,
Most i prolong,
Before my faces,
Go to hon-Kong,
Because the faces,
Are no longer mine.

When I start to use my teared stained face,
With the look of know more then other might,
With the smirk that only says "you only wish you were right"
With a half smile that is so dark,
That even the devil shall run,
With the eyes that are never one color,
Because I'm never one mood,
In black.

This is who i am,
I am dark,
Yet i am good,
It no a fake face that once stood,
This would be who i am,
Without that fake smile, an so on.

I CANT BE THE IMAGE YOU MISS

I see you looking at me,
everyday,

I see that question in your eyes,
I am sorry to tell you,

But I can not be the image you see,
I can not be that innocent ever again.

I lost that after what you did to me,
I can not be the image,
you wish you could see.

I am not her,
anymore,
That little girl,
with the soft ask blond curls.

That little girl,
with the pink dress,
and pink rose in her little hands.

That little girl,
who saw nothing,
of the darkness in life.

The little girl,
who didn't know how to scream,
who didn't know what fear was.