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I wrote this poem called A Place Called Home.How is it?


I wrote this poem on my way by the pond called A Place called Home. Not sure why, it just came. It’s about death and all that good stuff. So…yeah.

Eyes full of admiration, the world whispers desperation, you get this tingly sensation, and you know this can’t be your place in. You feel the world drop around your feet, the whispers and the screams, all the agony. Your just one fish in the deep blue sea. Swimming with no direction. From your life there’s a whole new section full of pain and rejection. Where can you go to be alone when there’s no place called home. Run around with no friends. Thinking when will this life ever end. When will the pain disappear? Away from a life of stress and fear? Where can I be renewed? A place where I’m with you? Of dreams and hope a whole new trail. Oh wait that’s just a fairytale.&amp:lt:/3 Thinking of all the times of solitaire. Crying to the night air. No one to hear, no one’s there. You just one person, and the world just stares. Try and claw your way out. You’ll escape, you have no doubt. You fall to the ground and you fail. Somehow this is a new hell. Look, look, there you see. A place where you can be. But you just can’t find your way to surface. Sitting here wondering is this life worth it. Roses bud, leaves blow, but you’re still left shaking in the snow. Think fast, watch your time. Each and every step could just be another mine. Waiting to blow you high. Off the great blue sky. Is there really God here? If there is can’t feel him near? Why the pain the suffering? In the distance I can hear the funeral bells ring for me. Push and pull, off and on. Darkness is here, where’s the sun? Little by little, your life slips away. Night by night, day by day. Drawing nearer to your time, your death your escape. Every night spirits haunt you awake. Ready to take you away. To a new time, a new day. Feel the earth creeping up your skin. Feel the lose again and again. Wait for the day for you time to consume. To go to the place you call home. See the happiness around me I adore. Open up one room, another closed door. Tick tock, the clocks wisping away. The day passes, and there your body lays. But your spirits dead, lost in the night. You wrath in pain, death by sight. Yet so full, so empty the same. Yet so lonely, you’ve forgotten your name. What does it matter? It has no worth. You wait to be consumed by the earth. Try and try again your life still lives on. All there to hope for is gone. Awaiting to go to grave’s tomb. To finally go to a place, a place you call home.

What beautiful poem, if your a high school student you should try entering that poem for a scholarship. It sounds wonderful the only thing is, separate each line into a stanza. Good luck and go for that scholarship!

I really like it. Although, for future reference, write poetry in stanzas, otherwise it looks like prose, and thus it seems off and harder to follow. But awesome poem, good job (:

very good. but i never knew poems were so long…

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