I was browsing some stuff I wrote back when I was a teenager, and I realized that it was AWFUL. This writing is so bad, in fact, it deserves to be posted just for how horrid it is. Post some of your old, bad, almost laughable past writings you're rather embarassed by.:(
Your life is in ruins, the world is a mess
You live day by day, burdened with stress
If you are pulled down by your lack of success
There is always somebody to whom you can confess
I'll hold you close, you won't want to leave
Cry on my shoulder, wipe your eyes on me sleeve
And I'm always here, to hold while you grieve
I won't think you pathetic, foolish, or naive
Once you're done, your eyes will be dry
You will no longer feel like you want to die
I'll give you a big hug or a kiss goodbye
And you'll know that I'll always be here when you cry
I didn't think that was too bad, actually. Just something seemed off about the last four lines.
That's just the tip of the iceberg. Seriously, if you want to see some truly awful stuff, just look at my writing from FictionPress back in '03.
[URL]http://www.fictionpress.com/u/381876/Skitzo_Control[/URL]
Am I the only one that can't take anything seriously if it rhymes?
Nah, man. It was abysmally awesome. I especially liked how you said "big hug." Something about that just isn't very poetic, somehow...
Haha, I bol'd while reading Running at the line "my life is completely stunning." Good stuff, good stuff.
...I had managed to let myself forget that I was ever that retarded.
THanks for bringing that back up /wrist.
What, am I the only one man enough to post his terrible writings from 5 years ago? Psh... panzies. :p
Eh, here's a poem from three years ago, not one of my oldest. I have some I wrote when I was, like, seven... but they're actually kind of cute! This one, however, is not. >_>
If you wrote my epitaph,
Pray tell, what would you say?
Would you compose a little sonnet,
And weave a verse of words gay?
If it were left to you
To define me in my dying,
Would you portray me in the heavens,
Robed in white, with angels flying?
Or, would you mourn for me,
The wretch cast down to hell?
Would your hand be melancholic,
Your pen too sad to spell
My name upon a slab of granite,
"Hannah" just beyond your breath?
Would you refuse the duty
Of writing to me in my death?
Would you say you never knew her,
The brown-haired girl under the alter:
Accquaintance, the relationship -
Is that where your words would falter?
Than that I left you speechless,
I know no greater regret,
Except I never told you,
That I kept it a secret...