She was a strange girl,
here all alone.
She felt compelled to the Earth,
as if she were nailed to the ground.
She was silent
never talking
never making a sound.
She never asked why,
but instead looked to the sky
waiting for the day that she'd die.
Now she looks back on her life
and wants to cry;
since the whole time she lived it,
she just let it pass her by.
Now she's with Jesus
and she is home.
She is no longer strange;
-she fits right in.
she is no longer alone;
-she home again.
View User's Journal
What's Going On In Here? (puts a hand over my heart)
a public journal of a bunch of my poems; ones full of heartbreak, death, love, envy, depression, revolation, Jesus, and angels. Devils and sin, life and family, happiness and faith. ~welcome to my heart, victim.
My-Sweet-NightmareKisser
Community Member |
User Comments: [1] [add]
User Comments: [1] [add]
Community Member