ill ceep this here only because i dont have a hard coppie of it eny more... but right now i realy hate this

this sort of gest poped into my head last night , so i thought i'd right it in here so i'd have two coppies of it. enjoy^-^

Her voise is like a siren's call
Drawing me to my demise.
I whach and whate for her,
But still...
The vosie in the back of my head
Says I cant have her.
And yet,
Another whants me to call out to her!
To take her a way from her pain,
And her fears. And to teach her
The darkness is nothing to fear
But her light blinds me,
It pushes me back...
What should I do?
What can I do?
God I love her.

to day something realy quite sad happened i dont no y cause be for i was quite happy... well i was rideing the bus home when i gest looked out the window... tree by tree. person by person, gest flew by .... i thought for a secnod, if this is all there was to life, the glass and pasing life, where would i get off... would i ever get off, would i get guets sit there and whate to die? would that be all i could do? well then i thought , as the bus slowed to a stop to let some people off,  how brave the people be to leve the bus, with the simle spred acrose there face, when i got off where would i go ... would i be gest as happy to be rid the thing that i could simply sit and look at time, life and hope pass me by? but if i satyed on the bus ... would i whant eny one to find me?

ok because i can not figer out how to put poem on this web site i will let you all wonderful people that read the "diarys" see my wonderful poem that i wrote .. a long time a go.



   the 12:00 murder
Gest as the time appered
loney and sad ,
the chelow pould at the hart strings,
but for them,
they knew not
a site, a sound,
of the host,
dead in his room.

Was it foul play
meny thought so,
for after the party,
one was not there.

For alone and scared
he wated.
Dead still in the closet,
for a sine for a hope
      of redemption.

the piont of a diary is so you your self can right things down    and reflect on them latter by your self is it not? well then this here would not be a diary but a jurnal. but i must say what i have read in some of these "diarys" has been must deprsing, and in its self... confuseing. then again that is the mind no? what is the sadest is to read one of these "diarys" and realize you know the person and there talking about you.... i realy thought she didnt hate me that much :) but still i must have earned it. so i aplod the harsh wrods and wishess of this person. lol now alow me to rant for a while. may i ask y in hells name would we help some other contry and not our own? you sould all no what im talking a bout but eny way. what is the logic of this? In My Own, i Belive that if posible (in eny way) couldnt we have done some thing sooner? well well i think we hered enough of that for right now.... but then again i have a sort atntion span so that could be y. and in trun im stubern so if you what to argue with me i will say this once and in cap. lock so if for once some one reads what i have to say they can get it trough there heads. I AM RIGHT GET OVER IT. Rule #1 for talking to tiffany, i am almost all ways right. but then again this is the same way of thinking that got alot of people killed isnt it? so im boared of righting now so i bid you all Far well. ecxp if your the girl that dosent like me vary much and i say to you " get over it hore" and if you r that girl you SHOULD know why i say that. byby! :-)

they say that the draiy is sad and empty but look at it closer . there is no limit to what it could tell us. every blank page says jeust what it whants to, not what we make it .