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The place of that young writer

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How many of you young people do poems and file them away? I have sat and compiled my thoughts since I was of a very tender age. I started by modifying a poem in a textbook back in lower primary. I believed and still do in words. What else is more beautiful that the written word. Nothing can surpass or fathom the essence and beauty of the written word. My verdict: Poetry can change the world!
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The place I Belong

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It all feels and sounds like a dream, Each day with suprises of its own, I watch the sun rise and am amazed, My world is far different from everyones, It all lives in my mind! In my world there is no class or standard, We all speak in one voice, We all believe in a single religion, In my world there is no Greek or Jew, We all believe in one supreme God! In my world peace abides, We all gaze at the stars, And all things fall into place, There is no fear of betrayal, We all love like tomorrow never comes, We make hay only at day! What is this world, Oh, it was just a dream, Reality gets to me at dawn, I wanna force myself to sleep, And dream all over again! If only I could buy sleep and not the bed! I must rise now, Many things await me, Maybe I will tell you more about my world, When next I go to sleep, Pray that am not too tired, 'Coz then, I rarely dream!
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THE BRUTAL HEART

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The pain, the anger, the frustration The bitterness that comes with betrayal Love that turns sour Robbing one of their dreams The anguish of losing one’s ground Falling and never rising again Some will call it madness I call it a power difficult to harness Love is pure wickedness A vice that accompanies weakness Turning joy to bitterness …and warped that which was flawless With a sharp sword engraved in my soul Avenge I must before I face Seoul You call me heartless I say, I just use my heart less Brutality mercilessly took my naivety Brutality assures me of my liberty An eye for an eye makes all of us blind However, a heart for a heart… alienates pain!
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