Poetry = Result of Boredom.

Just some stuff I've written out of boredom. Hope they don't suck. ;D

The first thing I wrote, was my attempt to come up with a bunch of random lines that had the last word of them rhyme with "pass". That kinda failed, but it's still interesting. Haha. Enjoy.

EVERYTHING WILL COME TO PASS






Everything will come to pass,

Nothing in our lives will ever last,

We can’t change the past,

Everything will come to pass.



Friends grow up too fast,

The outcast of the senior class,

Looking through the glass,

Everything will come to pass.





Nice guys finish last,

Constantly harassed,

Nobody has any class,

But everything will come to pass.





Survivors of the blast,

No recollection of the past,

Every passing glance, means nothing, because

Everything will come to pass.

Everything will come to pass.

Everything will come to pass.




The next poem I wrote, ironically titled "I Can't Sleep" was written on a night when I (you guessed it!) couldn't sleep. I'm pretty proud of it. I hope you are too.

What?

Nevermind, just check it out!


I CAN’T SLEEP






Sleep is coming soon,

As I lay in bed, the calendar reads “June”,

The way things used to be,

All my memories are scattered on the floor





Pictures, and hopes and dreams,

Have fallen apart, it seems,

The moonlight nearly wakes the dead,

And I cannot seem to go to bed





It’s past the midnight hour, it appears that I can’t sleep,

Tired of concealing all the secrets that I keep,

No matter how mundane, or pointless they appear,

My mind is always telling me that I cannot rest here

‘Cause I can’t sleep





Insomnia’s so cruel to me,

You know, you reap all that you sow,

Karma’s never been my friend,

Why? I do not know,

The dripping of the faucet

Sounds like the dropping of grenades,

Destroying everything I knew,

As the shadows play charades

It’s past the midnight hour, it appears that I can’t sleep,

Tired of concealing all the secrets that I keep,

No matter how mundane, or pointless it appears,

My mind is always telling me that I cannot rest here

‘Cause I can’t sleep





The sandman’s calling for me,

But I cannot reply,

The bed is like a prison cell,

Awaiting my goodbye





It’s past the midnight hour, it appears that I can’t sleep,

Tired of concealing all the secrets that I keep,

No matter how mundane, or pointless they appear,

My mind is always telling me that I cannot rest here