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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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What is poetry?


Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


There are poets whose work, without exaggeration, belongs to the treasures of human thought and rightly is a world heritage. In our electronic library you will find a wide variety of poetry.
Opening a new collection of poems, the reader thus discovers a new world, a new thought, a new form. Rereading the classics, a person receives a magnificent aesthetic pleasure, which doesn’t disappear with the slamming of the book, but accompanies him for a very long time like a Muse. And it isn’t at all necessary to be a poet in order for the Muse to visit you. It is enough to pick up a volume, inside of which is Poetry. Be with us on our website.

Read books online » Poetry » Cutting poems by Angelica Montenegro (best ereader under 100 TXT) 📖

Book online «Cutting poems by Angelica Montenegro (best ereader under 100 TXT) 📖». Author Angelica Montenegro



cutters lullabye

Go to sleep and close your eyes

And dream of broken butterflies

Who tore their wings against the thorn 

You know the pain that they endoured

Sliver metal shine so bright

Scarlet blood that feels so right

Dream of the blood trickling down

And wake up just before you drown

moonlight shining off your tears 

as they drown out your wirst fears

so tonight wheb you start to cry

whisper the cutters lullaby

hushabye baby your almost dead

you have no pulse and your pillow is red

your family hates you

your friends let you bleed

sleep tight with a knife cause thats all that you need

rockabye baby broken and scarred

you didnt know life would be this hard

time to end the pain you hid so well

and down youll go baby straight back to HELL

 

She paints a pretty picture

She paints a pretty picture,

but the story has a twist

Her paintbrush is a razor,

her canvas is her wrist.

She paints a pretty picture

in a color that's blood red.

While using her sharp paintbrush,

she ends up finally dead.

The pretty picture is fading

quite slowly on her arm.

Blood no longer runs through her,

she can no longer do harm.

Yes, she painted a pretty picture

but the story has a twist,

 you see, her mind was her razor,

and her heart was her wrist.

Crimson blood and poison tears

Rain, rain, go away,

Because of you the pain will stay.

Slit my throat, cut out my heart,

Leave me here, tear it apart.

Poison tears stream down my face,

My heart beats at a steady pace

As I try to stand again;

Alone and standing in the rain.

I don't need you anymore…

Is what I think while tears pour.

I hate you like I hate my life;

But love is what cuts like a knife.

Love is death and death is you;

Its pain stains like a black tattoo.

Those memories come back again

And bind me in the ropes of pain.

Crimson blood streams down my head

Like a long, silk ribbon, tied by a thread,

To a platinum bullet, a hole in my skull…...

Now just a memory that's faded and dull.

The icy cold blade

The cold icy blade,running across my skin,Sending chills down my spine.Crimson blood running down my wrist,Dripping down drop by drop to the sink below me.I feel calm, and in control. The devil inside me has taken my soul.The blade doing it's job one time, two times, three and more. My vision goes blurry, the room goes dark, my heart pounds faster.I wake up the next day groggy, confused.People pounding on the bathroom door.My brain pounding in my head.I put on my best face,Because they can't know,They won't know. I'll find an excuse, for everything.And their world will be fine.No matter if mine is a living hell.they'll never know. Until it's to late.

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Publication Date: 07-11-2014

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