The lonely girl,Who lives for video games and anime,Always sits alone.The popular boy,Lives for sports and girls.Why is the boy,Even trying to talk to the girl?Calling her at around midnight,Texting her silly things,Like "I LOVE SALAD!"Is he mocking her?Making fun at her loneliness?Or is he trying to,Somehow brake her social barrier?
I know I'm not perfect,But who in this world is?I was never an object.I was never "his".In this world,We believe we have too much skin.It's like being uniqueIs some sort of sin.I was your sin,You never cared about me.I was completely different,And you hated my personality.I was your toy,Until you got a new one.It's hard for me to admit,But you've actually won.
I can't walk away,When I can't even stand.You said you'd help me up,But you took away your hand.I'm falling down,Slower than quicksand.You were my only stability.I fell back to the land.
Take a hold nowOn the silver handles here,Six silver handles,One for each of his old pals.Take holdAnd lift him down the stairs.Put him on the rollersOver the floor of the hearse.Take him on the last haul,To the cold straight house.The level even house,To the last house of all.The dead say nothingAnd the dead know muchAnd the dead hold under their tonguesA locked-up story.
I am not the black cat.There were four of us;my grandmother,a black cat,a myth,and I.My grandmother oftentold us a myth.When you are ill, she said,if a black catcomes and sits on your bedit means that youwill die soon.I was only six,seriously ill.Our black cat
He wakes, who never thought to wake again,Who held the end was Death. He opens eyesSlowly, to one long livid oozing plainClosed down by the strange eyeless heavens. He lies;And waits; and once in timeless sick surmiseThrough the dead air heaves up an unknown hand,Like a dry branch. No life is in that land,Himself not lives, but is a thing that cries;An unmeaning point upon the mud; a speckOf moveless horror; an Immortal OneCleansed of the world, sentient and dead; a flyFast-stuck in grey sweat on a corpse's neck.I thought when love for you died, I should die.It's dead. Alone, most strangely, I live on.