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Little Miss Aki

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Member Since: Jul, 2006

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Featured Book
Daughter of Shame
by Gwen Madoc

Jenni, a young innocent girl, must escape her dreadful past but when she thinks she has finally found happiness the past catches up with her...  
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A Long Dark Voyage
by Little Miss Aki
Monday, July 24, 2006
Rated "PG13" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Little Miss Aki
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           >> View all 97

If Edgar Allen Poe were to tread these plutonian shores, he'd drown himself in the first bucket of whiskey and bourbon he could find.

I am sitting in my chair,
or lying on the floor somewhere,
contemplating how bad it would be
if I were to hang myself off the balcony.


I am wandering in my mind,
thinking of the ropes that bind
my body to earth, my soul to hell,
where there are tortures too gruesome to tell.

I am thinking now of the chosen Prince
and the stone bearers of God's rules hence
the ten commandments that all must follow
and the interpretations that we would borrow.

I am crying still, fountains of heat
bearing a screaming heart, a torn piece of meat
and blood pours from my ears and my nose
but thankfully, for now, nobody knows.

No one will see the pain I have born
nor will they watch the means by which I was torn
no one can know the defeat I have suffered
the kinds of blows I took, completely unbuffered.

My eyes are on fire, and my cheeks are as stone
never before in my life have I felt so very alone
I'm dying of cancer, amnesia, and such
I feel that my body will crumple, it is all so much...

A kind word would save me, or something profound
but now that I stop to take a look around
there is no one in the shadows, and none in the mirrors
to soften my sorrow or dry all my tears.

So I lay here, sobbing and screaming
at doors, windows, walls, and the cieling
that I'm all right, I'm fine, I promise I'm okay
but my spirit unsure that I'll live through the day.

My hands are cold, face is white
all myself has been sacrificed tonight
I am the daughter of a handsome God
but for some reason, I have fallen, twisted and odd.

My body is shaking, out of cold or of fear?
I am unsure of all the things that I hear
I do not know whats truth or lie
I cannot feel anything, is this how I die?

Dear God in Heaven, please save your servant
my plea is desparate, and oh so urgent
I am falling, dancing on the edge of the abyss
my arms are flailing, my feet they miss.

Please love! Don't let me fall!
Even though the darkness, my name does call
please my friends, long forgotten
don't leave me now, so lost and barren.

Please, my family! Save my life!
bring me back from pain and strife!
Please, oh world! Help a friend...
don't let me fall, and on landing, neck sickeningly bend.

Please oh please, can't someone hear?!
or am I alone and this all that left, my worst fear?
Am I to fall, and die so slowly?
or will my death be quick, but still so lonely?

Or perhaps it is too late for any one to bear witness
your gone, annoyed and tired by my distress
I guess that's just the way it's gone
and now I jump, my life be done...

and so do I get granted my short drop
and by a rope given my sudden stop
let it be fast, let me not dance
the sullen steps of a Soul's last stance.

Dear God in Heaven, take mercy on me
for I, like others, just wished to be free
and this was the only way I could be sure
that I would be gone from this world of hurt.

My friend and my family
please forgive me for my calamity
for self-intended or psychotically driven
I have died by my hand, with no hope of Heaven.

My love and my God with healing hand
please try to listen and understand
I am a fool, as you saw me to turn
and now to Hell's circle am I burned.

Forget about me, it will do you good
for I am forgotten and so I should
please let me go, this was my choice
the last way to speak, since I'd lost my voice.

Goodbye, Goodbye
let me die
don't cut me down
just let me drown.

My tears fill the river Styx
and Raven sing his song
for rise from the earth, or fired hearth
nevermore will I be granted rebirth.



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Prosetry at Work by Odin Roark

This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given day...  
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