the new emo

this is my attempt at trying the darker side of poetry when i'm not actually depressed.

look in the mirror.
who do you see?
is it the smiling face
and rosy cheeks of a sweet innocent?
or am i the fickle
wicked monster who steals and destroys love?
am i the caring woman
that everyone adores?
or the worship-hungry goddess
who demands another sacrifice?
watch me grin with sharp malice
as i tear the emotion and strength of heart
from every idiot who has fallen
as my prey.
and then as i lean over the souless left-overs,
crying with repentance
and screaming with revulsion.
_____________________________________

this little girl crouches on the cold tile
balled up as tight as she can go,
curled around red knuckles
from futile, panicked flailing
as the gash across her cheek
slowly drips blood onto her scraped, knobby knees.
her quick, shallow breaths are her only focus,
keep from being noticed
here in the shadowed corner.
she makes herself as small
as the dust bunnies that keep her company,
eyes scrunched closed
as she tries to ascend beyond the bruises and scrapes
of her tiny, bony figure,
as she whispers in weak voice
a prayer for death to come.
________________________________________

if she keeps them all safe,
locks herself in a cage,
then no one will suffer
or hurt her with rage.
but through the cold bars
she might start to cry,
and exiled and lonely
wish she could die.
through lack of all contact
she prevents pain,
but all by her lonesome
she might go insane.
no one can deal
with complete ilosation,
so she'll find a solution
of her own creation.
she'll scream and she'll cry,
and after that flood,
she'll warm these cold bars
with the heat of her blood.

hmm... still not very good. but it's a start