I walked through the graveyard
That dark, soundless night...

A mind can wander
the lonely prairies...

Poetry is like love
an eternal flame...

You call me a prep because I wear American Eagle
you call me a goth because I like black...

She's though about it daily and had it planned out...
The way she would stop her life in a route...

When he said that it was over
all she could do was cry...

I miss the splash
of the waves at my feet...

Somedays I want to cry so bad
other I want to sit...

**This poem was written by a friend of mine and I...
Megan...

It was a little weird
walking up the stairs...

I feel so happy
I could burst...

Now all I can feel
is the sunshine on my back...