Okay, i am choosing FIVE poems for y'all to choose from. Yes, that's not a lot, but that's okay. I know it will be a hard choice, but please take your time choosing which you like best.

I will give y'all until tomorrow afternoon preferably until, 5:00PM to comment on which poem i should enter and once you have done that, i will see which two have the most comments and then i will post it on another chapter and see which one gets more comments... If that makes sense.

So, here they are, and again, please take your time choosing.

Thank you

-Sam

Strong, But Yet Not

I look in the mirror, pieces shatter to the floor.

I look down and grab a shard while i peer down at myself through the broken glass.

I see a burden and i do not belong in a world so desirable and wanted.

A burden like myself should not be here.

I look up, hot tear trials flow along my pale, rosy cheeks.

I look at the pieces that are still in the mirror and i see a girl with long blonde hair.

I see a girl who is willing to do anything and everything to keep someone happy.

But i also see a girl who is not willing to break down her walls and let people in.

I see a strong girl. A strong girl who is holding out for a hero.

A strong girl who is done being hurt.

And a strong girl is someone she'll always be, 'cause nevertheless, she will always be a strong girl who is overlooked by the crowd.

(No Title)

Take what you need,
don't be a freed.

You'll yearn for it tomorrow, i will guarantee.

Look at it now, don't wait 'till tomorrow,

It's like parvo, it'll eat you up, and leave you there while you hurl amongst us.

Lie 'till you die, say goodbye and don't wait up.

Lean into the light and don't give up.

Nevertheless A Torn Up Canvas

Have you ever thought about life? Like, not in general, but how it's a blank canvas and all? Well, I have.

And life will always be a torn up canvas. Your mind ponders over 'the'. Now, you may ask what 'the' question is. Well 'the' question is, why is life a torn up canvas?

Why is that canvas, in particular, torn, old, scratched all over, and busted up? Why is it like that? Why? Did it deserve it? No? Yes? Maybe? Answer me. Say something, please.

The desperation in it's voice rings through your ears. But what can you possibly do? Nothing... The answer is nothing...

Life will always be a precious thing. Nevertheless, it will always be a torn up canvas.

Sober

I stand in the kitchen, cooking up a good supper for tonight. I toss the dough up in the air and catch it easily.

I suddenly feel a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist and hot breath caresses my neck.

I smile and set the dough down.

I turn around-- still in his arms and settle my lips against his.

A slight moan escapes my lips and I feel his arms tighten around me. We broke apart, gasping for air.

The three special words were exchanged and I gladly say them back.

All i do now, is thank god hes sober.

Typsy

I stand in the corner
trembling with fear...

What will he do when he gets home? Will it be worst, or will it be as bad as last weeks?

What will he do when he comes in and sees me shaking with fear?

Will he... He... He'll...

Why am I so scared? It's only skin to skin

Skin can never hurt you... Or, thats what he says.

The door bursts open and I can already feel the imaginary sweat dripping down the side of my face.

He roars out a bark of laugh, looking at me with disgust. He stumbles over to me.

A grim look settles over my face, and I received one of the worsts beatings ever.

And it's all because, one beer made him tipsy.