wn.
By Francesca Smith
To my family and friends, who are loyal and true,
I bare my heart, I give it to you.
I lay trust in your judgement, and love in these pages,
for what I have written, comes from the early stages.
For those who are new,
I am thankful for your time,
so thankful in fact,
I made you this rhyme.
I am honoured you chose me,
to fill up your brain,
with words I have chosen,
with no personal gain.
I thank you again,
from the bottom of my heart,
for giving my words chance,
to form some sort of art.
Copyright 2013 Francesca Smith
Contents:
1. Wishes.
2. Kites.
3. Love is the Reason.
4. The Operative Word.
5. Guilty.
6. I Miss.
7. Scarred.
8. Storm.
9. Sorry.
10. The Fire that Burnt Out.
11. Empty Space.
1. Wishes.
Have you ever made a wish upon the first star you saw?
(I have)
Have you ever made a wish to be the first person people notice?
(I have)
Have you ever made a wish to be loved by an angel?
(I have)
2. Kites.
Kites don’t have to worry,
about how high they fly.
Kites don’t have emotions,
they don’t need to cry.
Kites have owners,
just like you and me.
Kites have people telling them,
exactly how to be.
Kites have strings controlling them,
pulling them back down.
Kites controlled like subjects,
society holds the crown.
Kites can’t feel the pain,
if their hearts are broken.
Kites are not regretful,
of words that they have spoken.
Kites fly through the air,
the world passing them by.
Kites having nothing to worry about,
except how high they fly.
3. Love is the Reason.
Love is that con, love is that word.
Love is the reason, that no one is heard.
Love is the reason, you make me feel weak.
Love is the reason, your words cut so deep.
Love is the reason, I cried over you.
Love is the reason, you miss me too.
Love is the reason, I smile at night.
Love is the reason, the stars shine so bright.
Love is the reason, I want you so much.
Love is the reason, I know I can’t touch.
Love is the reason, for having best friends.
Love is the reason, the magic never ends.
Love is the reason, we all get dressed up.
Love is the reason, they share the same cup.
Love is the reason, for the crazy things people do.
Love is the reason, for no one but you.
4. The Operative Word.
‘Love’ is just a word.
Expressing emotions.
Words are misunderstood.
Feelings are used and abused.
Love being the operative word.
He made her feel special.
Showed her his heart.
She fell for his con.
He called her an angel from above.
Love being the operative word.
Never meeting, hardly eating.
Starving her emotions from the past.
Closing the door, but not letting go.
Hiding her emotions.
Love being the operative word.
When love is used too often,
Not many people understanding the meaning.
But when you find the one, emotions explode.
You become a human time bomb.
Love being the operative word.
Love is just a feeling.
It leaves you bare and exposed.
What the past has given you.
Scars and broken everything.
Love being the operative word.
5. Guilty.
She sat alone,
in the corner of her room,
rocking herself to sleep.
She cried alone,
in the corner of her room,
choking on her own tears.
She ate alone,
in the corner of her room,
to stop the people from staring.
She loved alone,
in the corner of her room,
because you wouldn’t leave her be.
She cut her wrists alone,
in the corner of her room,
so she could watch as her life drained away.
She wrote alone,
in the corner of her room,
to say sorry, goodbye, and thank you.
She killed herself alone,
in the corner of her room,
because you couldn’t accept who she was.
Now it’s you,
who sits alone,
who cries alone,
who eats alone,
who loves alone,
because you wish you had saved her.
Guilt is an amazing emotion,
seizing your thought,
but far too late.
Are you guilty now?
Do you wish you had let her sit with you?
Do you wish you had let her eat with you?
Do you wish you had accepted her?
Do you wish you hadn’t have told her to do herself a favour?
You put the knife in her hands,
the words in her mouth.
You are the bully, the slut, the bitch.
One slice, she’s gone.
Are you guilty now?
The tables have turned now.
You have become the outlaw.
It’s you they all hate.
Now the knife is in your hands again...
But now there is a distraction,
a new girl has come to town.
An Emo, a Goth, a Mosher, a Geek.
Have you labelled her already?
Go on, and say something,
history is repeating, you’ll never learn.
Two girls, two months.
A verbal murderer.
Are you guilty now?
People really hate you.
They’re pushing you away.
You’re all cut up inside.
Sat in that cold, corner.
A receiver of the same cold shoulder you so willingly distributed.
They’ve labelled you now.
You’re a bully!
You’re a bitch!
But they didn’t make you like that, don’t pass on the blame.
Accept some responsibility,
you brought it on yourself.
It’s time to escape,
time to get away.
The knife still belongs to you.
You know what to do.
The door opens and a light shines in.
A new face you don’t recognise.
She pulls you out of that blood red corner,
accepts you into her life.
She saved you.
She should have left you there to rot, you know that.
She saved you even though you could have saved yourself,
yet you couldn’t save those girls?
You’re a disgrace, you let them rot.
They haunt you in your sleep.
Two letters have been delivered,
/>
specifically addressed to you.
Both of them say thank you,
and you don’t need their names.
Thank you, for making them who they were,
they said, past tense.
Even when they were all alone,
left alone by you.
You were who they wrote to,
it was you.
Are you guilty now?
6. I Miss.
I miss everything about you.
I miss your hugs and the way you held me.
I miss your kisses and the way your lips felt on mine.
I miss your eyes and how they looked deep inside my soul.
I miss your laugh that made the darkest days feel warmer.
I miss your voice and the way it wrapped around me.
I miss the way things used to be.
I miss the way you loved me.
I miss the way you made me feel.
I miss the happiness we shared.
I miss you.
7. Scarred.
I carved your name,
deep into my skin.
Just to see what it would look like,
to be labelled as your property.
I couldn’t help but fake the pain,
but the blood I spilt was real.
It won’t happen again, I promise,
no need because the scars linger forever.
A constant reminder of the pain you left me in.
The paper on which I write my life,
is fragile like my arm.
I spill my heart out, for you, for your benefit,
which is where it probably went wrong.
If I had kept my mouth shut,
would you still love me like you did?
My heart is scarred from heart break,
my arm is scarred from misunderstood love.
Each resemble a pain I’ve felt,
but there isn’t any other release that can help
It’s not life that gave me these scars,
it’s you, and others, that make it hellish.
I’m scarred from these emotions, from lost and broken love.
I’m scarred from loving you, and from letting you go.
With or without you, I can’t live. I’m scarred.
8. Storm.
I’m no longer good enough,
not for you, for me, for anyone.
You can tear out my heart,
and stamp all over it if you please.
But somehow you still manage to say I love you,
fooling me with your words.
Screw you, I’m done with this.
All of you can leave.
I’m tired of living through tiredness,
of abuse given by you.
Why? Yes, why?
Would you tell your girlfriend that you fancied her best friend?
You’re trying to fuck this up.
Your brain is in your trousers, making your decisions.
There’s a clue in itself.
You see, you’ve all made me think, see sense.
If I had a penny, for every time I’d been rejected, or abused for my looks,
I could be so rich right now, earning your foul attitudes.
Aha! I’ve caught you,
caught you in my storm.
Get out. Leave.
It’s mine.
One thing you can’t destroy.
9. Sorry.
I woke up sad,
but went to sleep happy?
Sorry.
I hate you,
but I still love you?
Sorry.
Your words, they mean nothing to me,
but they mean everything?
Sorry.
My mind cannot be made up,
but I have made it?
Sorry.
Apologies are just empty words,
they no longer have meaning.
Sorry.
Is that all you can say?
Is that everything I want?
Sorry.
All your fault, I know,
but all mine, we share it?
Sorry.
10. The Fire that Burnt Out.
The corner is cold,
no spark in the fire.
Sat upon a smoke bitten chair,
this wasn’t supposed to be, you liar.
I’m sat here wondering why,
and I should cry, without a doubt.
What should I do now?
Now that my fire has burnt out?
I once asked when it was time,
time for it to burn out.
I replied when I couldn’t take anymore,
I said I would turn out the light.
The light is only dimmed,
I see the smoke coming from the rubble.
I knew I was safe,
I never left the bubble.
When the lightning from the storm stopped,
I was convinced my fire had followed.
What could I have been thinking,
it was just my mind that hollowed.
I knew it yearned for me,
and the warmth of my heart.
I left my fire unattended,
like unpublished art.
My path is no longer leading,
to the path of no returns.
I finally followed the right one,
yet my fire did not burn.
I don’t feel so lost now,
I’ve found my sense of power.
I know that my fire is telling me,
I have no need to cower.
The rubble I now stand among,
is not what I destroyed.
All those things that threatened me,
the fear is now void.
11. Empty Space.
Without you,
I am nothing.
An empty space,
from which I bleed.
A hole in my heart,
loneliness.
Being without you,
wanting everything.
Everything I need,
is you.
Everything I need,
is right here.
Or is it?
I can’t see.
I think I shed a tear,
but at least I’m free.