Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989


Confessions to decide my decisions,

Decisions I can't comprehend.

Understanding is out of my proportion,

And with decisions,

I continue to pretend.

Memories that come back to haunt me,

Devils lying upon my hands.

Washing away any tensions,

That the darkness can be withstand.

Swearing to God to vanquish,

To put banishment to such gloom.

My knees to the floor,

my knees to the floor,

How much torture can I afford.

Where my lines are never perpendicular,

Never colliding with all my dooms.

Dooms to accuse a face, so evil,

To knock out of me the loons.

With hands that are so fragile,

To form the letters that have inscribed my tale.

Of my never ending sleep,

That seems to block out all my fails.

Of all my insecurities,

And a less than picture perfect view.

You can accuse me, you devil,

You moral less fool,

But you could never take me with you.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback