Eg

So, I've been doing this same goddamn act, wearing the same goddamn mask, and putting on the same goddamn smile everyday for the past seven years and I want to know when I will get my break. Anybody got any answers?

Confusion

This one will not be in poem form. But no one reads these, anyway, so it's useless. Just like everything else in my life. See, he wrote something. A story. I know it was about me, because it was the exat same situation. Well, kinda. See, I can't see, talk to, or even think about him until I'm eighteen. Even though he's the only thing ever on my mind. Well, what he wrote was about us rung away together, after four years apart. He used fake names, but I know it was about me, and I cry every time I read it, which is quite often. It makes me want to stop cutting. Anyways, I'm so confused. And conflicted. Because there's this other guy, in Colorado. He loves my poetry on fictionpress. I have hardly told him anything, but I harthis sixth sense that he's not who he says he is. Not in a creeper way, but that he's him. Like, the him. It's probably not right, but I just have this feeling. I've always been superstitious. See, I added him exactly three months after I added him. No big deal, right? Except that day (May 15th), he wrote something. What I was talking about before. And he (ThatLonelyOne) reminds me a lot of him. So I don't know what to do. If he (the he) is ThatLonelyOne, then I would like for him to let me know in some way, shape, or form. Unless, of course, that's too much for you to do.

Hope and pray and find a way,
~Zoe

Cutting

The first cut, just a scratch. Barely there. The second? Dives beneath skin, but only slightly. The third goes a little deeper, hardly drawing blood. By the fourth, my heart is already pounding in anticipation, anticipation for the dark red liquid. My mouth waters with thirst for the fifth, and that need is satisfied as saon as I feel the slice. But I want more. Need more. And I will quench that need, with the blood that pours continuously from my veins.

Damsel

Is he sitting next to me, in class?
Or on a whole different continent?
Maybe he's somewhere in between.
Another state?
What is he is gone, taken from me?
How do I get him back?
Do I wait for him to come driving up in an RV on my 18th birthday?
Or do I go out and get him myself?
Should I be a damsel in distress or a damsel in control?
Does it matter?
Either way, I end up with my true love, right?
What if I don't have one?

Hiding

Do you ever getthe feeling that someone you know online is really someone you used to know in real life, but they're using an alias because they're forbidden from talking to you? Well, I have that feeling. Guess who I think is hiding. I dare you.

Awaiting the Day.....

I knew it was true!
Why did I not see it before?
And now, as I sit and think,
I remember every detail of
your perfect face, the face
I taught myself to forget.
I remember every strand
of your hair, and how it
fell onto your shoulders.
I remember every minute
we spent together,
wrapped in each other's
arms. All these memories
I used to look upon
with a sad eye have
suddenly become brighter,
knowing that they
are not only the past
but also the future.
I hope you will be glad
to hear that every
second for the next
four years, I will
be awaiting the day.....
The day when we can
be together, once again.

Love

I think I might be able to forgive him. If he will be a part of my life once again.

Test Run

Well, here we are. You, gazing at your computer screen with a disappointed look on your face, and me, failing miserably at blogging. Oh well. I'll try.