Rad!0Act!v3 T3ddyB3ar Z0mb!3 > Writing | WritersCafe.org

Another one of my very few rhyming poems...

Family?They're not my family, For I do not claim them, Nor do they claim me, In fact they call me 'it', 'What is IT doing at the table?' 'Let IT ..

They don't know what I'm hiding, I turn my head to the side, as if in confusion, But they don't know what I'm planning, I act foolish just to lead ..

In my dark room, On my blood stained bed, I sit, with my little light, I put my knees to my chest, And stare into the never-ending blaze, Oh crap..

You know who you are -_-

Him: ~I walk alone, on the boulivard of broken- ARRRGH!! Me: Glass. d********g. -_-

I'm PRETTY PRETTY PRETTY with a knife in my hand, a razor in my eye, and stitches in my body where they took the ugly out.

This mask, It hides everything, Very few have seen under this mask, But they were never my friends again, I smile to mask the pain, I laugh to ma..

Is it that hard to see? To see what they do? To hear what they call me? Because it painfully obvious to me, Is it that hard to see the marks left ..

Hello spider, my old friend, Come to bite me and make my end? Its okay, its just fine, I actually don't mind, But, my friend, you have to know..