emo poems?

Question:my bff used to rite them and i used to luv to read them but since she stop writin them i kinda miss reading those kinda poems. do u kno/write any??

Best Answer - Chosen by Asker: my bff used to rite them and i used to luv to read them but since she stop writin them i kinda miss reading those kinda poems. do u kno/write any??

Heaven is nothing. Only a lie you are told to keep you from fearing death it's self. It's an excuse to be pulled towards a god who doesn't care. A god who left you to cripple and burn. You might as well search for hell, for hell will soon find you in this world of war. Slashing at the bones, collapsing under the pressure of the government who says, "in god we trust." well who the hell said I trust god with my life, and why shouldn't I be allowed to speak my mind towards government if I don't believe in a man of such power that he could solemnly save us all? here's the thing, "god" abandoned us, and for those who believe he can still save you, then why has he let my family crumble and let so many people die? Heaven is a gate way towards hell.

Can
you see in your mind's eye any where but home? The roof over your head? The place of you mother and father, brothers and sisters? It’s easy to run from all the confusion. All the frustration and small battles. You tell you’re self this every night, before wandering off into a hazy slumber.

You

are welcomed by screams when you wander through the door. Shouting over comes you, even though it’s not your fault. The air becomes tense and you join in on the screams. Silencing any one who dares second guess your words. You

Imagine

every one small and you large. Your mother, sweet and innocent on the out side, releases her inner monster. Something she has kept well hidden for years. Lunging towards you, arms spread like a pouncing cat, attacks. A pounding in your ear as you hit the floor.

Such
Pain over whelms your face. You brush your cheek with your palm. Feeling the open wound, and the cold blood run down. Now, it’s dad’s turn. He picks up your numbed body and slams you again, only this time much harder. He tells you you’re a disgrace and are to blame for every detail. But you know it’s not true.

A

single word would change all of this. One that hasn’t been mentioned for to long. A word that would bring back memories it makes your eyes puff, love. With fists clenched on your neck you stay strong. Holding back any ounce of emotion and take it. You keep your mouth shut and hold your breath. Would you ever live in such a hopeless and cold

Place…?

…I wouldn’t.
if you want more e-mail me

the first persons is really good.

Yes I do write them, quite often. They kinda just pour out.