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My personal story of my childhood abuse, neglect and molestation by my Uncle and how that shaped me into the person I am today. How the molestation forever changed a five or six year old into a homosexual later in life. The negativity that arose as a result and all the pain that accompanied...
This poem is dedicated to a poem â€˜My Museâ€™ by Ashi17 (also on Booksie) because I liked her poem so much that it inspired me to pen this poem. Not only this, normally all her poems are a great source of inspiration and motivation for me. They have highly influenced and shaped up my...
With the loss of her Grandmother, Mae Elizabeth tries to deal with her present while trying to cling to the past. Her former love comes once again into her life, making her remember the joy, love and pain of their wonderful disaster.
A poem written from the perspective of the emperor of Sand: a being who's identity is never revealed, but displays melancholic and very human emotions.
This is my first try at writting a surreal poem. Constructive Criticism would be nice :) hope you enjoy!
Just some thoughts from a girl discovering who she is in a wide world.
By Blair Gowrie
Pearls are different from gemstones in many ways. For example, pearls come from beneath water, whereas gemstones come from beneath the earth. Pearls are elegant - pearls have prestige.
By Luna Hades
Who knew that white pearls and black diamonds would tell if your soul belonged in heaven or hell.
Players are not serious with girls. This poem is just a reminder.
By Rajan Thapaliya
This poem is about Nepal
This chapter is one of the many chapters coming to this story. I am writing a novel on here about stuck up socialites who gets letters from a obsessed fan and this fan takes his obsession a little too far. They become his prey, but they aren't the first... but they might not be the last.
jst a poetry convo between me and a special someone........
Poetry | Updated Apr 21, 2011 | Reads: 1 | Comments: 1 | Likes: 3
Personally I like this one. I think it goes as far back as 2007, but I still to this day like it. An angel of sorrow, with no cure for this cancer.
you cannot be truly called a poet unless to write at least one on nature !
My world as I sleep
Poetry | Updated Nov 11, 2009 | Reads: 52 | Comments: 12 | Likes: 23