The Title...Unknown

This is the poem you all want to hear, That travels on the wind and tickles your ear. A portal to me, A portal to see. The author hybrid, Dark and morbid. It answers your wonders, The thoughts in your slumbers. The facts you long to know, Told by my rhythm and flow. Long red hair, That matches a flare. My mind all to jaded, My blue eyes have faded. I have my reasons to hate you all, I was on a pedestal that once stood tall. I trusted a touch, Far too much. The palm of a man holds my soul, My innocence was his only goal. I conform to nonconformity, And live a life of lunacy. I’m a misfit all my own, Who chooses to be alone. There’s not much to tell, I live my own hell. And cry guilty tears, That hide my darkest fears. Another sob story, Not of your worry. The words and the writes, My only delights. That make you all groan in disgust, My advice is…think what you must. -Jan 07 Sheena Allen