Submissions by highaboveground

To write a poems a troubling task,
With no secret adventures or troubling past.
Never beaten or lost, never struggled with drugs,
Never watched someone die, or fallen in love.

Stereotypical lifes are of interest to none,
Which is where my search for ideas begun
So I sit in the study, and close the door,
Whilst I read all your problems, INSPARATION GALORE

I open a book and I’m taken away,
What you’ve all overcome, what you’re doing today,
The story’s you’ve written, the things that you’ve seen,
The people you’ve met...

If love looks not with eyes, but with the mind,
Why isn’t cupid painted blind?
If puppy love is a passing craze,
Why don’t we doubt his baby ways?

The face of a child, in angel form
The one from whom our problems are born.
His lack of knowledge is clear to see,
But we can’t help but quote ‘he’s picking on me’.

A symbolic being with power galore
A child who they say controls who we adore,
An arrow in one hand, whilst holding a bow,
Wearing naught but a cloth to cover below,

He gets blamed for the mishaps, and each broken heart....

Remember the things not to be remembered,
memories of when I would cry and surrender
and take the blame for your false accusations.
You’d never hear me out, you had no patience?

You’d say that you love me and that’s how it seemed,
But when you turn on her, you turn on me.  
“I won’t do it no longer, I won’t sit and watch                  
I’ll protect her forever whatever it costs.”

The day that I found her curled up in a ball,
Rocking back and forth by the garden wall,
Clutching her knees she buried her face,
She knew that I knew, and...