The Girl Who Slept the Wrong Way

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a couple of poems from a poetic novel I've been writing. It's new to me, and the rhyming might be annoying. Here's the summary:

"Everyone seems to hate me, I feel so alone." This is how Alice felt about her life. Before she can reach happiness, she has to go through hardships. She was an odd, emo teen, who slept with her head at the foot of the bed every night. Not everyone liked her, however; it wasn't as bad as she thought. All she needed to be was a little more positive.

If you read this, tell me how you like it. Tell how how I need to improve. I need to learn from people other than my friends.

Submitted: May 30, 2012

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Submitted: May 30, 2012

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A A A


 

Good Morning

Opened my eyes,

The sun just barely arise.

I jumped out of bed,

No longer sleeping like dead.

I began my day,

Feeling better than normal, I say,

“Even though my life is bad,

Today, I will not be sad.”

But, I had doubts in my mind,

That got tighter and tighter entwined.

My day went by, and I didn’t even cry,

Not even one sigh.

But, I still had to wait before I left,

For some friend whom was my guest.

 

Hopes Crushed

Sitting on the stairs

Passing people gave scornful glares,

Just a usual thing for me.

Like a lock dreading a key,

Opening me would ruin it all.

But, one girl, didn’t hesitate to jump on the ball,

Standing close to my face,

I was ready to embrace,

The words she was about to throw.

I stared into her face shaped like a crow.

Her words were too harsh to repeat,

She even pushed my face seep into the concrete.

I didn’t fight back, just ran,

Screaming and crying all I can.

Catching up, I was afraid I was going to die,

She stopped me and blackened my eye.

Blood dripped down my nose,

It ruined all my clothes.

My eye was throbbing,

As I kept dodging,

Every attack thrown.

 I got on my bike and rode it all the way home.

She didn’t even get caught,

I hated that thought.

I felt violated and alone.

 

Dear Diary,

In my dark, shaded room,

I wrote my feelings in my journal, baring a moon.

That was the only way that helped,

With these feelings that I dealt.

Not my mom,

And not a song,

Could numb the pain just a bit.

Only the journal, which made me feel like, I was a complete and utter twit.

It was my friend, my only friend,

That would keep the secrets I would send.

I shared with it my feelings of suicide.

It was the only one that could abide,

The sick feelings deep in my heart.

 

 

 


© Copyright 2019 Alicia Figueroa. All rights reserved.

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