An Empty Stage And An Echo Are All That's Left Of The Greatest Show On Earth

I've changed my tune since you left me
Now I think I'm finally ready to give up on you
Instead of wondering
What's making you give up on me

But your eyes make it so hard
Even though neither of us want to be here
I can't stand the thought of "over"
So I'm asking myself
Can I give up on you?

Maybe not, maybe so
Possibly yes, and probably no
But I, I give up on you
And the love I could have had
Please, just let me give up
Because with a girl like you
It's just too hard to let you go

Untitled

Maybe we're all the one who's messed up
Dropping apologies like spoiled fruit on the ground
Or maybe we're all just forced attendees
Of a mix between a funeral, boot camp and masquerade ball
Where everyone lies
And everyone dies
To the beating of the marching drum
And the sound of the sergeant's cry

But this blood upon my palm
Reminds me that I'm still around
And so is everything else around me
That I can scrape and scratch my soul on
So come on you unbelievers
You shan't stand before this army
For we are armed with faith
Faith with the ground on which we walk
And the air with which we talk
And the God for which we speak
For all among us will die loved
From the quiet hero to the vocal freak
We are here

I will let my words enslave no one
But let them decide how they will
Make the truth contained in them.

I Saved This As A Draft And Published It As A Failure

It's been a long long time since I've felt this
But the heat of hate is almost comforting
Sort of like an anti-bliss
A cardiac amputation
That leaves me gasping and in pain
But reassures me that I'm still alive (for now)
Now isn't the time for apologies and talks
Just for running away without saying goodbye
Even though I don't like leaving under the stare
Of eyes that plainly say, "die"

Running through the forest and field
Back to the sweet dream I once knew
I fall down the hill to the river below
My hope comes true; you came here too
But so did he
Penetrating my dream, and me
And simply one of his looks has shook
And broken, and frozen
My heart

This is the last time
This is my very last time
I said, this is the very last time
I'll let someone take my life
Don't say no when I ask why
This is the way things had to be

If It Was Up To Me, I'd Be Right Up Next To You

The house is silent, as a grave
I walk slowly and carefully, reminding myself to behave
As I should in such esteemed company
I find the doorknob, turn it and run
As from out of the room floats "shut the ******* door!"
From my esteemed hosts, lying on the floor

Ohhh, oh oh
I can't believe it's true
But apparently I faked it
Because all the words were fired
But none of them hit true (hit you)
And isn't this exactly where I shouldn't be
Or maybe it's just where I ended up, and isn't good or bad at all
Although I'm probably just trying to justify making bad mistakes

I swore already in the courtroom
That I saw the narrator shot dead in the prologue
Yes, I know the protagonist found him in the second to last chapter
But I swore I saw him shot and killed before the story ever started
And can't I make any of these poems rhyme?
That irritates me to no end
You know, that the ending sounds of my lines never seem to blend
But, that doesn't matter tonight, my friend

Because no matter where you are
Or how stupid my words sound
I'm just going to softly sing you to sleep
With you lying like a little child in your big empty bed

Honestly, if I could I would make this right
And honestly, I wish I had heard your voice
Before I dropped off to sleep in this cold lonely bed

1st Ever Guest Poem! "I'm From", By Rachel E.

I'm from a Family that Teaches,
While my brother teaches me patience
My dog teaches me responsibility

I'm from my room
My practice place,
My guitar sits on my lap,
As I strum every chord as if they all
Had some sort of meaning

I am from the kitchen
Scavenging for food,
Opening the refrigerator searching for
Some food that looks satisfying at the time

I am from the softball diamond
I stand on the pitchers mound,
My turf, And of course
I pitch a perfect strike

I am from the computer,
iTunes, AIM, and Internet
are always open when
I am on the computer

I am from banana cream pie
Baked by my grandma
Topped with one extra scoop
Of whipped cream

I am from a camp ground,
A Warm fire, and smores
At night the chrickets chirp slowly
Puts you to sleep

I am from friends
We stick together like
Fruit kabobs
We’re always there for eachother

I am from Starbucks
That is where I live
A caramel latte with cinnamon cake
Is all I need

I am from the lake
Swimming until I can’t swim any longer
Maybe riding swiftly around in my grandpa’s boat
Or maybe being pulled on
A tube by a thin wire

This is where I’m from