Hey I'm Gloria, you've reached my page. Please comment on some of my pieces, and don't forget to sign my guestbook.
My name is Sarah I am but three,
My eyes are swollen I cannot see,
I must be stupid I must be bad,
What else could have made My daddy so mad?
I wish I were better I wish I weren't ugly,
Then maybe my mommy Would still want to hug me.
I can't speak at all I can't do a wrong
Or else I'm locked up All the day long
When I awake I'm all alone
The house is dark My folks aren't home.
When my mommy does come I'll try and be nice,
So maybe I'll get just One whipping tonight
Don't make a sound! I just heard a car
My daddy is back From Charlie's Bar.
I hear him curse My name he calls
I press myself Against the wall.
I try and hide From his evil eyes
I'm so afraid now I'm starting to cry.
He finds me weeping He shouts ugly words,
He says its my fault That he suffers at work.
He slaps me and hits me And yells at me more,
I finally get free And I run for the door.
He's already locked it And I start to bawl,
He takes me and throws me Against the hard wall.
I fall to the floor With my bones nearly broken,
And my daddy continues With more bad words spoken.
"I'm sorry!", I scream But its now much too late
His face has been twisted Into unimaginable hate.
The hurt and the pain Again and again
Oh please God, have mercy! Oh please let it end!
And he finally stops And heads for the door,
While I lay there motionless Sprawled on the floor.
My name is Sarah And I am but three,
Tonight my daddy Murdered me.
We need to stop child abuse!
Help Support This and Put This in Your Profile
___________________
An escape from reality, or a picture of what is only to real. Gateways to different worlds, unique minds. Pathways paved to heaven and hell. Poetry conveys all real and un-real, even all in-between. Poetry is all and everything, life and death. Poetry is anything you make it.
-------
Words.
The beauty of words is undefined. A power beyond all understanding, a beauty none can grasp, nor ever will. A wildness that will never, never be tamed, captured or held.
Words are so powerful we can only hope to love them.
Words, so indescribably perfect the human mind will never comprehend.
Words are the basis of our planet, no, of our universe.
The letters I clumsily form into words now, are yet eluding my grasp. Filling the world with awe and wonder. Words have no bounds, there is nothing to hold them back from...Everything. For that is what they are. In our feeble mindedness we try, but we will never hold up. Words own, whist we will never own even to our names, which are in fact words. Words sail the winds, far and wide. Close yet very far. Near but always gone.
A beauty un-perfected so as to be perfect. A wildness that will never be quenched, tamed or grasped. Beauty.....Words.
By Gloria *Aka Me*
My goal: I want to create a masterpiece in writing.
Learning is only the beginning, and wisdom is only her name, knowledge is only the footstool. Morals, and ethics, and what is needed to gentle the path. But Godliness, is what brings us to the future.
What is above is titled, "Insightful crap thought up when I am drop dead tired."
Sorry about all the grammatical mistakes, but while your here feel free to sign my guestbook! Put This In Your Profile If Your Against Abortion! Month one Mommy, I am only 8 inches long but I have all my organs. I love the sound of your voice. Every time I hear it I wave my arms and legs. The sound of your heart beat is my favorite lullaby. Month Two Mommy today I learned how to suck my thumb. If you could see me you could definitely tell that I am a baby. I'm not big enough to survive outside my home though. It is so nice and warm in here. Month Three You know what Mommy I'm a boy! I hope that makes you happy. I always want you to be happy. I don't like it when you cry. You sound so sad. It makes me sad too and I cry with you even though you can't hear me. Month Four Mommy my hair is starting to grow. It is very short and fine but I will have a lot of it. I spend a lot of my time exercising. I can turn my head and curl my fingers and toes and stretch my arms and legs. I am becoming quite good at it too. Month Five You went to the doctor today. Mommy, he lied to you. He said that I'm not a baby. I am a baby Mommy, your baby. I think and feel. Mommy, what's abortion? Month Six I can hear that doctor again. I don't like him. He seems cold and heartless. Something is intruding my home. The doctor called it a needle. Mommy what is it? It burns! Please make him stop! I can't get away from it! Mommy! HELP me! Month Seven Mommy I am okay. I am in Jesus's arms. He is holding me. He told me about abortion. Why didn't you want me Mommy? Every Abortion Is Just . . . One more heart that was stopped. Two more eyes that will never see. Two more hands that will never touch. Two more legs that will never run. One more mouth that will never speak.
My name is Sarah I am but three,
My eyes are swollen I cannot see,
I must be stupid I must be bad,
What else could have made My daddy so mad?
I wish I were better I wish I weren't ugly,
Then maybe my mommy Would still want to hug me.
I can't speak at all I can't do a wrong
Or else I'm locked up All the day long
When I awake I'm all alone
The house is dark My folks aren't home.
When my mommy does come I'll try and be nice,
So maybe I'll get just One whipping tonight
Don't make a sound! I just heard a car
My daddy is back From Charlie's Bar.
I hear him curse My name he calls
I press myself Against the wall.
I try and hide From his evil eyes
I'm so afraid now I'm starting to cry.
He finds me weeping He shouts ugly words,
He says its my fault That he suffers at work.
He slaps me and hits me And yells at me more,
I finally get free And I run for the door.
He's already locked it And I start to bawl,
He takes me and throws me Against the hard wall.
I fall to the floor With my bones nearly broken,
And my daddy continues With more bad words spoken.
"I'm sorry!", I scream But its now much too late
His face has been twisted Into unimaginable hate.
The hurt and the pain Again and again
Oh please God, have mercy! Oh please let it end!
And he finally stops And heads for the door,
While I lay there motionless Sprawled on the floor.
My name is Sarah And I am but three,
Tonight my daddy Murdered me.
We need to stop child abuse!
Help Support This and Put This in Your Profile
___________________
An escape from reality, or a picture of what is only to real. Gateways to different worlds, unique minds. Pathways paved to heaven and hell. Poetry conveys all real and un-real, even all in-between. Poetry is all and everything, life and death. Poetry is anything you make it.
-------
Words.
The beauty of words is undefined. A power beyond all understanding, a beauty none can grasp, nor ever will. A wildness that will never, never be tamed, captured or held.
Words are so powerful we can only hope to love them.
Words, so indescribably perfect the human mind will never comprehend.
Words are the basis of our planet, no, of our universe.
The letters I clumsily form into words now, are yet eluding my grasp. Filling the world with awe and wonder. Words have no bounds, there is nothing to hold them back from...Everything. For that is what they are. In our feeble mindedness we try, but we will never hold up. Words own, whist we will never own even to our names, which are in fact words. Words sail the winds, far and wide. Close yet very far. Near but always gone.
A beauty un-perfected so as to be perfect. A wildness that will never be quenched, tamed or grasped. Beauty.....Words.
By Gloria *Aka Me*
My goal: I want to create a masterpiece in writing.
Learning is only the beginning, and wisdom is only her name, knowledge is only the footstool. Morals, and ethics, and what is needed to gentle the path. But Godliness, is what brings us to the future.
What is above is titled, "Insightful crap thought up when I am drop dead tired."
Sorry about all the grammatical mistakes, but while your here feel free to sign my guestbook! Put This In Your Profile If Your Against Abortion! Month one Mommy, I am only 8 inches long but I have all my organs. I love the sound of your voice. Every time I hear it I wave my arms and legs. The sound of your heart beat is my favorite lullaby. Month Two Mommy today I learned how to suck my thumb. If you could see me you could definitely tell that I am a baby. I'm not big enough to survive outside my home though. It is so nice and warm in here. Month Three You know what Mommy I'm a boy! I hope that makes you happy. I always want you to be happy. I don't like it when you cry. You sound so sad. It makes me sad too and I cry with you even though you can't hear me. Month Four Mommy my hair is starting to grow. It is very short and fine but I will have a lot of it. I spend a lot of my time exercising. I can turn my head and curl my fingers and toes and stretch my arms and legs. I am becoming quite good at it too. Month Five You went to the doctor today. Mommy, he lied to you. He said that I'm not a baby. I am a baby Mommy, your baby. I think and feel. Mommy, what's abortion? Month Six I can hear that doctor again. I don't like him. He seems cold and heartless. Something is intruding my home. The doctor called it a needle. Mommy what is it? It burns! Please make him stop! I can't get away from it! Mommy! HELP me! Month Seven Mommy I am okay. I am in Jesus's arms. He is holding me. He told me about abortion. Why didn't you want me Mommy? Every Abortion Is Just . . . One more heart that was stopped. Two more eyes that will never see. Two more hands that will never touch. Two more legs that will never run. One more mouth that will never speak.
- Last seen 2 hours ago. Member since June 9, 2007.
- I am a 13 year old woman from Maryland (United States)
- When I'm not writing, I'm Doing something else.......Duh.
- I am in the groups Kids Only Please
- I have 73 comments, 1 contest
Stories I'm focused on
My Stories
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I sit on the curve, side of the road, shoulders slumped hair flat. I sketch, I draw for hours, angry eyes and a stern mouth. A butterfly. I
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All she has to do is kill her sister, then she can start anew, but with the past to haunt her, does she even have a fighting chance?200 words, 2 comments, October 18. In Drama, Hope, Life, Murder, Mystery, Short story, Society, Starting idea
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My other items
1 - 3 of 75
Show all
- Blue Bottle at allpoetry
f ) There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. - Sleep Now at allpoetry
My finger rests on your velvet cheek
Don't flinch away - Cause Together at allpoetry
Baby when I hold you tight
When I feel you shudder and cry
Guest Book
1 - 4 of 4
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Radiance on October 19Thank you much for the comment.
I really appreciate it, especially since I have little time to write at the present. -
LadyLionnir on October 18This right here is one of the best writers I've come across and she is so sweet! It's worth the time to stop by her page and read a little bit.
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Lover of Stories on August 16, 2007Hey Gloria! : ) You are a great author because your writing is well written and has good imagery!
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Contagious-Emotion on June 13, 2007Lol. I will have the honors of adding the first comment to my guestbook. Hopefully more will come- and nto just from me. Well Congrats on being the first me!
