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Here are some old ones that I found in one of my binders. I do that a lot I write during class or something if I am bored and these happen to be of my freshmen year of college. I do not think them to be great, but oh well!

"Left Alone"

The depth of my heart,
is a maze of everything.
Doubt and fear fill,
a void, in which can never.

Hope and love flee,
in the dark.
No such strength,
of them.

I try,
and I cry,
for I'm left,
broken.

No such glue,
could bright me,
out of the blue.

So, what to do?
Will emotions,
take me,
and leave,
taking my soul,
making an empty corpse.

I try,
and I cry,
for I'm left,
broken.

"Envy"

Many faces,
so many of them.
Happy,
Sad,
Mad,
Calm,
I envy them.

Those faces,
different, individual,
do not pretend.

True to self,
I envy them.

When I'm happy,
inside I'm sad.
When I'm content,
inside I'm mad.

I'm to my own,
for those who try to understand.
Are push and thrown,
for I envy them.

For they are,
true to self.

"Cutter's Death"

The blood,
fills the body,
like rivers.

The deep color,
red is darker,
than Mars.

Under the skin,
muscle, tissue,
the blood of one,
is there.

Blood,
the esscence of life,
can be easily taken.
By another,
or thy self.

Slice your skin,
and watch the flood,
fall from you.

As it falls from you,
begin to hear,
the beat of one's heart.

Feel the pulse,
going through one's body.
Soon numbiness,
envelopes you.

You hear the dripping,
like a drummer making a beat.
You know hot tears
fall from your eyes,
but don't feel them.

More blood falls from you,
Feel the haze,
almost a dream.
Your eyes heavy,
think "am I tired?"

Slack body falls forward
unable to stay up.
Like 1000 tiny people,
pull you.

You are sleepy,
head spinning.
Think,
"I'll just lay down."
You lie down.

Blood still pumping,
from you.
You begin to dream;
never to wake.

When one comes,
to wake you.
No more blood,
will be pulsing;
your skin chilled.

Never thought,
death would come.

Tis a cutter's death.