Dear Diary ...</3

by Ciara   Nov 10, 2008


Dear diary,
I watched him from my bedroom window
Standing by the old, brown willow
Crying in despair,
While holding on to his soft brown hair.
Wondering why nobody likes him???
The kids at school called him names
They Like playing stupid little games
They said nobody cares enough about you
That's why they think he's just a fool.
Let it go, run away
Let his fears wonder into outer space.
He's only a kid just let him be
One day you will see.

Dear diary
I watched him from my bedroom window
Sitting by the old, brown willow,
Body sprawled across the floor
He had no more worries anymore
He took the knife and slashed his face
He thought he was just a disgrace
He took the knife once more, cut his wrists
It was very quick
No more names
No more games
No more fears
And defiantly no more tears.

    report violation
0


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments

  • 16 years ago

    by Mr. Darcy

    ..sorry, I meant to delete after Amen! *blushes*

    Dear diary
    I returned to the window, the ambulance is coming..
    ..wait, who is crouched by his side?
    A man is tending to his bleeding wounds.
    In moments he is surrounded by medics
    all of them confident that this soul will be saved.
    I have made up my mind that I will visit him
    There is goodness in this world and I will show him
    show him that the brightest thing is love
    love for yourself
    so let it shine bright and proud
    Forever let it shine.
    Amen

  • 16 years ago

    by Mr. Darcy

    Dear diary
    I returned to the window, the ambulance is coming..
    ..wait, who is crouched by his side?
    A man is tending to his bleeding wounds.
    In moments he is surrounded by medics
    all of them confident that this soul will be saved.
    I have made up my mind that I will visit him
    There is goodness in this world and I will show him
    show him that the brightest thing is love
    love for yourself
    so let it shine bright and proud
    Forever let it shine.
    Amen
    I watched him from my bedroom window
    Sitting by the old, brown willow,
    Body sprawled across the floor
    He had no more worries anymore
    He took the knife and slashed his face
    He thought he was just a disgrace
    He took the knife once more, cut his wrists
    It was very quick
    No more names
    No more games
    No more fears
    And defiantly no more tears.

  • 16 years ago

    by Curing the Comon Cliche

    Wow, sounds like me, without the whole dying part. The story is truely amazing. The flow is okay.

    Advice: Crying in despair,
    While holding on to his soft brown hair.

    change the "while holding on to" to something less robotic. It sounds really forced, like u were just trying to rhyme.

    The poem was very tragic and I'm extremely glad I didn't skip this one.

    Please comment and Rate

Read All Comments (3)

More Poems By Ciara