Obviously I'm going through my old stuff today. I found this poem I wrote in high school. This is the first half:
Hello, welcome to my humble home.
See part of my life that’s rarely shown.
Won’t you come and sit and talk a while,
Even though you consider it vile.
We men of silence should have a choice,
Of when we speak and when we refrain,
From speaking to hide our deep pain.
We keep feelings bottled up inside,
Instead of greeting the world we hide.
For me, not so easily defined.,
Different from the rest you will find.
Enough of the chat, do step inside.
Don’t be alarmed, for nobody died.
Just a few remnants that are stored,
But they are the things I like to hoard.
I really don’t know why I do it,
But silence makes me think as I sit,
And sit, all the while craving more,
Those tasty morsels I do adore.
Sick, you think? Or do you think at all?
Do nothing, but still sit proud and tall,
But I know inside there is some fear,
But you cannot leave, you wouldn’t dare!
From the outside we are all so silent,
But my inside is o’ so violent!
You know, fear is a natural thing,
Not knowing what tomorrow will bring.
Please, be not afraid, you cannot go.
I have few memories, this is so,
Because I was not a normal child,
My evil angry thoughts are not mild.
Rosary beats and a book of prayers,
These things cannot stop my se of fears,
But feelings of sorrow and remorse,
Cannot stop my evil deeds, of course.
God, the maker of heaven and earth,
He made me this way at my own birth.
There's more, but I'll spare you the end...
How is it that I manage to write non-insane children's books? I'm holding back! There are some ideas that I have lately that involve the darker side of me, but they are for older kids. Only time will tell!
