××Recap××

My daughter Anelaya, blinded by the cruel world people know, she seen it not fully from her blue-gray eyes. But I guess you can't blame children at that age, to not know the horrible truth life is.

But Lorrie, son Asher, wasn't so blind by the world with his blue-black eyes. He seem to notice it at a young age, but didn't know all the troubles that come in the world or life. How life can be a miserable tragedy.  But at the young age, I guess we can't blame the children who are blinded by the world, and how they enjoy their little time of enjoyment in life of no worries and turning their faces to the blinded side of things.

××End of recaption××

I remember life in teen age as if it were yesterday. Writing poems, reading and writing in general to escape reality to go to an glorious place of paradise.

To seem so deep with writing, there was emotions,  a feeling that can be relatable.

Day 1 (Diary poem) : Heart beating, and your still screaming.

Tell me not, In such words.

Of how much of a disgrace I am.

Tell thy voice is nothing but torture.

For they are dead and wish the same for me.

Looks fool but so do voices.

Life is torturous, and time gone by unknown.

But death is not the goal, the war isn't over until I say so!

They speak as if I'm listening.

They act like they are not there but shh... they're in the shadows.

They enjoy my screaming and pain.

This is their work of torture.

But I'm destined to be happy.

But for now this smile is as fake as a barbie doll.

And the love of the anger it gets to you demons.

You'll find me living, not sarrowing.

Life is torturous ,and time gone by unknown.

And I'm strong, though your yelling for my attention.

I'm still breathing with a heart beating, does this anger you?

In a fire burning battle that's gone extinguish.

In the life of voices, I'm not dumb, I know what your doing.

Hero? I'm mine.

Trust no words of you, I'll not please you!

Ready or not, I choose.

Fake? I've done that.

Heart still beating, and your still screaming.

Lives done wrong by your persuasion.

We live, you scream.

We're winning, and your still trying.

No burn trail, no crying trail, but utter screams of you.

Perhaps your a fighter like me,misunderstood. But darling life is full of misunderstandings. I trail the life of recovery, I'm still wining, and your still screaming.

See my beating heart? It means I'm fighting everyday.

Let tears run down to tear stain cheeks.

Watch this heart beating.

To show I'm still wining.

I end the battle, no more waiting, this is my goodbye to this battle.

They may be screaming,  but they have no attention.  They may be lerking, but I'm leaving...

With a heart beating and your still screaming.

G.L.S

××End Of Poem××

I own this poem. I made, please don't plagiarize my writing.

Thank you.

-Imperfections.