How hard it is to forget things long past,
These are the things that haunt me in my dreams,
Imprinted on my memory to last,
Remembering the shrill and piercing screams.
Waking up wide-eyed and in a cold sweat,
Dark purple shadows lie under my eyes,
Knowing worrisome things are to come yet,
Listening to the cruel and hurtful lies.
Death follows me as I walk the cold streets,
Always hovering and confirming my fears,
Wishing I could find some safe, warm retreats,
Ducking my head so I may hide my tears.
And so I continue with my haunted life,
Always seeming to feel the cold, sharp knife.
Here's the one sonnet I was complaining so much about writing! Well, now it's up here. It's not in perfect iambic pentameter, but as I was recommended to put it up by a certain teacher... I thought, "Well, why not?" And even though I may sound like I have no humility if I say this... but I think it's an awesome poem, too. =^w^=
So, for now....
Anna, signing out!
BLEEP
Hey-your instructions were some of the best, so if you could, please bring me a printed copy by Monday so I can post them up. I want the other students to see what greatness is :) You should print me out a copy of your sonnet as well because I love it and I want to hang it up too in the Creative Writing section! Do your homework!
ReplyDeleteLuv,
Ballard