Rose
My memory, like the rose from a lover long last, has faded away leaving me here with the bitter sharp ended thorn to deal with. As I reach down to pick up what little bit is left I see some strange sence of hope that just as this rose has died me memory of you will too. All those bitter worded fights we had, the heartlessness that was spat to one another in bitter spurts of range. It puzzles me that the only thing that is left of you is the bitter memories and none of the sweet ones. All I can remember of you is the thorn, none of the bud. Did we ever bud into some sort of friendship or has it always been a thorn; a bitter, blood thirsty thorn.Ringing
Silence rings through the hall... Then a piercing scream... Mine... Nobody looks up and nobody shows concerns. I then realize that they cannot hear me, everything that I have said has ninth penetrated their ears. I realize then that to them I am not realty and to them I do not exist anymore. I am but a ghost and a shadow of nothingness. The one that I wanted to care has no time to and the one that did care dose not realize that I was in the pain that I was in. But it dose not matter. Not any longer who thinks about the ghost that hovers around thinking of what sold have been with her life. Who thinks about the lost soul that was searching for her destiny but never got to find it? No one dose any longer... They all think about what has happened to they and how it was not what they wanted or how that was not god enough for then. Maybe One day they will wake to fine that the lost soul had something major to say and she was the one that mattered. Maybe one day they will wake to find that everything that they has is good enough for them. And that things are not better in other places. One day this ghost hopes that the memory of her and her inspirational words will leave a mark on people and make them realize that things will in time change... But only when you allow yourself to change in the manner of opening your eyes and seeing beyond the outer shell of people.