Array ( [sid] => 119301 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Sun Still Shines [time] => 2006-05-01 12:07:44 [hometext] => [bodytext] => The sun still shines
and the birds still sing.
The rain still falls
into my open palms
and my skinny wrists
still bleed.

Each morning I get up
to start another day.
I never am sure what
is going to come my way.
But still I try
and still I cry. . .

I never really had a choice.
I never was one to have a voice
because you forced me quiet
when you would beat me and yell.
I guess you were just giving me
a story to tell.

I remember being little
and all alone on the front lawn.
I would look at the clouds
and wishing to be an angel
would make me feel calm.

I found Death playing
on a dead end street.
I kept coming back to play
week after week.

I regret that day
I gave you the razor blade.
It was like signing my life
away and putting me
back into your hands
just to call another
ambulance. . .

***

“Look down at her face.
She is so pretty.
She looks like an angel.
So perfect. . .”

I’m sorry you didn’t
tell me that before.
Now I’m six feet under.
The sun still shines
and the birds still sing.
The rain still falls
into my open palms
and my skinny wrists
are done bleeding. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 193 [topic] => 13 [informant] => justme03 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 14 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - The Sun Still Shines


The Sun Still Shines
Date: Monday, 1st May 2006 @ 12:07:44 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: justme03
The sun still shines
and the birds still sing.
The rain still falls
into my open palms
and my skinny wrists
still bleed.

Each morning I get up
to start another day.
I never am sure what
is going to come my way.
But still I try
and still I cry. . .

I never really had a choice.
I never was one to have a voice
because you forced me quiet
when you would beat me and yell.
I guess you were just giving me
a story to tell.

I remember being little
and all alone on the front lawn.
I would look at the clouds
and wishing to be an angel
would make me feel calm.

I found Death playing
on a dead end street.
I kept coming back to play
week after week.

I regret that day
I gave you the razor blade.
It was like signing my life
away and putting me
back into your hands
just to call another
ambulance. . .

***

“Look down at her face.
She is so pretty.
She looks like an angel.
So perfect. . .”

I’m sorry you didn’t
tell me that before.
Now I’m six feet under.
The sun still shines
and the birds still sing.
The rain still falls
into my open palms
and my skinny wrists
are done bleeding.

This poem is Copyright © justme03


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