My Poetry, Aly A. Goodall [best fantasy books to read TXT] 📗

Taken by Aly A. Goodall


If I could have simply one wish,
It would be the ability,
To watch the aftereffects of my death.

I want to watch your face,
As my death comes up on the news,
My blood staining the floor.

I want to see if you’d even care,
If you’d fill with regret or sorrow,
Seeing what you pushed me to.

I want to hear what people have to say,
I want to see if they’d blame you,
As my note confessed my pain.

I want to see you fall down,
I want to see if you’d blame yourself,
If you wished you could change.

I want to watch as you begin to break,
I want to see you fall apart at the seams,
I want to see what you’d resort to.

I want to watch as you follow my path,
Unable to handle the knowledge,
Of what you pushed me too.

I want to see your body,
Up on the news,
Your blood staining the floor.

I want you to feel my pain,
I want you to suffer for what you caused,
I want you to know why.

I want your body to rot.
I want your soul to die.
I want your name to be forgotten.

I want your heart full of pain.
I want your mind full of remorse.
I want your life taken.


Drawing by Aly A. Goodall

Draw lines going nowhere;
A life going nowhere.

Gaze into the familiar mirror
At the not so familiar face;
She mocks you with a smile
An oh so sweet smile.

A smile of love, of affection.
You cry, you let her win;
Shame fills to the brim
Eyes stare at the pitiful girl.

Voices threaten and taunt the
Already fragile life;
A life on the edge of a cliff
Waiting for someone to take her hand,
And guide her to something better,
Something real.

She thought that was you, but
You were just as broken as she was;
And she had to find out the hard way
A life going nowhere.

A girl going nowhere as she traces;
Over faded lines on the porcelain flesh.
A girl going nowhere
As she draws lines
Going nowhere.

I know by Aly A. Goodall

The tears I cannot cry,
Just seem to build.
I wish I could die.

I am useless,
That I know.
I also know,
You will argue so.

I am not helping,
Just hurting.
My anger,
Is not anger.

Its the pain,
You do not see.
Tears I cry,
When I fight,
Are just a way to say;
Thanks for everything.

The looks I give you,
Show you that not all is true.
You sense something,
Is at an end.

But you would have never
Thought that one could take
Her own life.


The pain she felt
Seemed to swell.
She once said,

That dying,
Was not an ending,
It was but a beginning.
And now you understand,
Her way of thinking.


Shadows by Aly. A Goodall

Yesterday's shadows
Resilient shades
Darkness drowns
Dreams made

 
Nothing treasured
Enduring not
Sorrows measured
Yet unforgot

 
Returning feelings
Collective thoughts
Barely healing
Still unforgot


Fallin by Aly. A Goodall

Hollow senses
Shallow days
Nightfall clenches
Dark arrays
 
Meager wantings
Swept aside
Calloused tauntings
Facetious cried
 
Garnished  yearnings
Life devoid
Fateful turnings
Truths destroyed


What could have been by Aly A. Goodall

A dark and dreary day it could have been,
A funeral procession,
Heads hung in mourning numbers,
A young woman in infinite slumber,
Buried in rich red velvet and dark mahogany;
Her friends and family in agony.
They ask, "Why did she want to leave?To go, and make us grieve?"
The thick gray headstone might have read,
Now, Forever, we lay her to bed.
Then they'd walk away, weeping
And she'd just be sleeping...
 
That was the way it could have been,
After weeks and months, maybe ten years would go by,
And someone would query,
"Who was that girl,
So young it was eerie,
That she would want to die,
Even before she gave life a try."
Or ask,
"Think of her mother, what must she feel?
Does she still think if this is actually real?
Or does she wish her baby will still come home?"
Even though now her soul might roam In the wide open world she needed so severely,
Despite the people she hurt so badly...
 
That was almost the way things turned out,
Death seemed the only way to go about
The confusion inside her heart and soul,
That pain added to all other hurts-the whole
Suffering-that came with the package.
All that bottled emotion turned to rage,
She found a self-destructive outlet,
Her way of screaming, but being quiet
Enough for no one to hear
Her pain, and all that fear
Of dying in that grotesque way,
Wanting to go, needing to stay...
 

That is not the way things are now,
She has learned, and she knows how
To feel pain, and just cry, letting it all go,
And float away with the breeze.
She is happier, her mother doesn't ask "Why?"
Her friends don't wear black, marching by her grave,
Her family doesn't weep,
At the memories they so painstakingly keep.
Now, all together they can sit in the sunshine,
Making new memories and laughing away the time.
She loves what life gives her, even if it invokes a tear
To form, she is glad to even be here.

Publication Date: 11-10-2010

All Rights Reserved