Little Miss's blog: "My Poetry."

He was built like a machine - a man made to kill. "A heartless beast without a soul." Were the words he used to describe himself. He'd say the words she'd always want to hear, but did he mean them? Love was a waste of his life. It was nothing more than a man-made dream. He bought her roses just to watch them die. Why did he hang around if love was nothing more than a waste of his breath? Why would he use words.. meaningless words just to make her cling tighter? People saw his charade and believed the whole fucking lot. But what was ignored? Something deep inside him was found by someone who had her own secrets. The beast.. the synical beast was mearly a frightened boy wrapped in a Soldier's costume. The questions were answered. Day by day, he would play games, tell fake words - not for his own spiteful pleasure, but simply to make her smile... (Just written about some guy I recently met.. He's a mysterious character..)

Short black hair, bands around thier wrists. Hiding something they're known for, wrist bands are hiding slits. "No one cares for me, no one ever will. No one will ever miss me if I over-dose on pill." Give me a break you cowardly fuck! With your suicidal attitude, you dude, fucking suck. With the way you're talking, man, of course no one will care. If you gave one person the chance, it's gauranteed, they'll be there. But knowing all you Emos, your hope and faith will fade. Keep your suicidal shit away from me, or I'll hand you the fucking blade. (Nothing personal, guys. Emos are the sexiest Mo' Fuckers around. Just a phase I was goin' through when all my friends were offin' themselves.)

My voice, unheard. My name, unspoken. The nothingness inside an empty box. Love and hate afaired. Speech and vision impared. Hushed by hope. Blinded by love. (Need an interpertation? TOO BAD! Figure it out yourselves. Each to his own, my friends.)

"Love is a many splendid thing." BULLSHIT! Love tore my heart out and showed it to me before my soul died. Love is only Hurt behind a mask. Cupid is only a demon is disguise ready to shoot us with his poisoned arrow. When will love be splendid? When will it finally leave my heart in one piece? Love is a fifty story building I have fallen from one too many times. When will I stop falling? Falling in love...