All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Writing
I grasp my notebook and retire to my bed
And thoughts dance around madly in my head
But these ideas will never be spoken, nor heard, nor read
Because before they can take flight, I will crush them dead
A creativity flows with purpose through my veins
So I slit my wrists and let it all drain
My blood splatters across the paper and leaves an imperfect stain
But I soon realize that my efforts are all in vain
These poems sprout from my pencil tip
Entangling my paper with the flowers of my mad mind trip
I mumble them aloud with a parting of my lips
Then abruptly, I begin the inevitable strip
The stripping of my notebook, my heart burns with cyanide
As I knowingly commit this dreaded homicide
It is as if they are my babies, and I a blushing new bride
Who feels guilt for murdering her own children, it is a shame that they have died
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 1 comment.
3 articles 0 photos 6 comments
Favorite Quote:
"If You don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything."