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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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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.
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Read books online » Poetry » Shadows of the Past by Kayla Stiles (top fiction books of all time txt) 📖

Book online «Shadows of the Past by Kayla Stiles (top fiction books of all time txt) 📖». Author Kayla Stiles



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though it did.

Who knows? Maybe one day,

Maybe one fateful day,

Your paths will cross again and twist and turn to combine a

United embrace of happiness and caring.

But I doubt it. I highly doubt it.

Because, once you lose that opportunity,

It’s rare to get a second chance at that which you wish to occur.

It’s rare… To get a second chance at your first love.

Problem Child

Problem Child

 

Her family’s falling apart,
Everyone’s telling her boyfriend to break up with her,
Or to cheat on her.
Her stepdad’s being a dick.
Her mother is always depressed.
She always argues with her boyfriend.
She always makes him depressed.
She’s always jealous of “Isabella”.
Her boyfriend has his doubts about the relationship,
Whether he admits it or not.
She’s unsure about her place in the world.
She feels useless to people.
She can’t help people or make them happy.
She can’t help her mom be happy again.
She’s slowly dying inside.
She’s hurting a lot and can’t seem to reach out for help.
She feels like she doesn’t belong anywhere.
She feels like she doesn’t deserve anything good.
She feels like a monster.

Respect

Respect

1/11/12

 

You disrespect your teachers,
You disrespect your family.
You disrespect everyone around you
Every single day that you live and breathe.
You know not how to form a whole sentence.
You know not how to even show that you care
About anything besides your stupid music,
Your stupid gang life, or how you disrespect
Everyone around you.
You disgust me and probably all the
Rational people around you.
You spit on the good and
Have a party with the bad.
It’s disgusting!
You do not know how to treat others with
Respect. Nor do you know how to
Shut your trap when someone is talking.
You cause a wonderful teacher, who is pregnant,
To stress and fret constantly.
Do you really want to kill that baby
Boy that rests and grows inside of her???
I think you do.
Because you have no respect for the living,
Just as you will get no respect when you are dead.
I’m so sick and tired of hearing your whiny voices,
Your crappy, pathetic gang music!
I’m tired of listening to you all as you
Cause mayhem and destruction everywhere.
I’m sick of seeing you all
Gripe and complain about school,
Sick of seeing you disrespect
Every single authority figure in the area.
If you don’t like school,
Get the hell out!
You’re wasting the teachers’ time.
But more importantly, you’re wasting
The time of students who really want to learn,
Who really do want to move up in their lives.
You see, those of you who sit on your rears
All day and do nothing!
You all are going to end up working for the very students
That you make fun of.
The students that you call degrading names.
I’m sick of the trash mouth,
Sick of the complaints.
If you don’t give a damn about your future,
Then get out of the way of the people
Who DO care about their future!
At least show that much respect
Cuz believe me when I tell you this:
You have no respect when living,
You’ll get none in return when you’re dead.

Savior

Savior

5/23/12

 

If I could’ve saved you,
I would’ve.
If there was even just a hint
Of the possibility,
I would have taken it in a heart beat.
But you never wanted to be saved.
You never wanted to see me happy again.
So now I just sit alone,
Day after day,
Knowing that, slowly, ever so slowly,
I’m losing you a little more each day.
Or are you already gone?
Are you really so far gone,
That you no longer wish to care for my wishes,
For my hopes, and my dreams?
Are you already too far out of my reach,
That I may never get you back again?
Am I never to be your savior again?
I guess so.
I’m sorry. I love you.

School Day Life

School Day Life

12/9/11

 

3rd period and there she sits,
Silently crying, nobody seeing
These tears of red that fall
From her eyes.
Nobody cares about her.
The guys always curse and scream
At the girls.
They might as well beat the girls.
The guys rape the women,
Curse and yell at the teachers,
Start fights over color
And race.
They don’t care about school.
They smoke their pot
All day and all night.
Drink their alcohol
24/7.
Yet nobody does anything about it.
They’re not expelled, not arrested.
They just roam the schools,
Wild and free,
Nothing restraining them,
Nobody to show them
The wrongness of their misdeeds.
But who can blame them?
The women wear short skirts
And dresses that show their asses.
They encourage the guys
To do these acts and misdeeds
Just to prove they love them.
Just to prove what isn’t true.
I know, because I see these people
Everyday at school.
I see how they act,
See how they dress,
Hear how they talk to others.
But they don’t see me,
No, the don’t see me.
Because to them I am invisible.
To them, I’m worthless white trash.
Hell, I don’t matter to them.
I’m just another person they love to hate,
A good person,
Someone who doesn’t deserve to die.
Someone who deserves to live.
Yet they don’t care about that.
No. they don’t like me,
So they’d rather kill me,
Than get to know me first.
Oh well.
I guess I’m just not worth it.

SCHOOL ROCKS

School Rocks

 

So sick of love, so sick of hate,
Cutting down life with one big slate.
Hating how people insult the teachers,
Overloaded with preachers.
On my back is where the world’s problems rest.
Leaking out blood with each killing attest.
Roaming the streets, wild and free,
Overaggressive teens and adults, all on a spree.
Cocking a gun, flicking a knife,
Killing within seconds, an innocent life.
Seeing death everywhere, seeing pain of life…
Bam, you’re dead

Slavery

Slavery

11/21/11

 

There she sits, crouched in a corner
Of her dark, dank prison cell.
The bars feel so cold against her bare skin.
She is surrounded by the stench of rotting flesh,
Of sweat on bodies crowded together,
Hundreds of people crammed into just 10 small cells.
Nobody dares cry out in discomfort, however,
For fear of their brutal master coming in
With his rawhide whip and hot branding irons.
She’s naught but a mere 13 years old,
Her master has already claimed her as his sex slave
As well as his house servant.
To him she’s nothing more than an animal
That deserves to be beaten and used for foolish games.
She has no say in anything, no voice,
No knowledge of argument.
She has no rights to anything and no say as to what
Happens to her. Her arms, legs, and back are
Covered with the scars of a hundred lashes,
With the bruises of a thousand beatings.
She knows not of love or compassion or kindness.
She knows only of pain and sorrow and hatred.
Suddenly, sunlight pours into the prison
As the door slams open. In walks their master.
He reeks of stale beer and cheap whiskey.
He sways purposefully towards the last cell on the
Right, at the very back of the hell hole.
Everyone steps back in fear as he unlocks the door
And steps into the cell. He walks straight to
The poor girl and grabs her by the hair,
Dragging her to her blackened feet.
She cries in terror and

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