EmotionsWhat is the definition of love?How do you define Joy?Can you bring Sadness into words?It is a rather interesting Ploy.It'd take a thousand words to tellSomeone how it feels,To love someone completely,(Not 'cause they cook you meals.)Pure Joy is indescribable,Like a strong narcotic Drug,Though sometimes you can feel it,In a Long Awaited Hug.The crushing weight of SadnessIs hard to put to phrase.It's heavy and depressing,It's a dark, slow-moving haze.Emotions aren't easilyDescribed in words we use.From total Bliss to Anger,And Guiltiness and Blues.
Lonely HeartsSome people might complain,If they have a lonely heart,But in reality,It's a brand-new shining start.You're open to the world,To go anywhere you please,Whether lying on your bed,Or walking through the trees.But when you feel the loveOf someone by your side,And it disapears,You cannot help but cry.And if you see some ladyReally happy with her man,You run and go and sulk alone(In the room to which you ran.)You're jelous of all the friendsThat have people that they date,You want some of the "Action",You just don't want to wait.
Missing PieceWhen you're really sad,Something inside you dies.You're no longer full of life,As you release your soaking cries.But when you can start to heal,That something grows right back,Stronger than before,To get you back on track.You'll never be the same,Because that little piece is new,It's easier to cope,Because you really grew.
The Best of NatureThe mist in the forest,The foam on the sea,The buzzing harmony of a working bee,The songs of the mountains in perfect melody,And the happy swaying leaves of a willow tree.The colors are bright,The sounds are pure,In the night, it has even more lure.
BruisesThe colors of sadness,All blacks and dark blues,Like the painful reminder,Of an unsightly bruise.Depression is plastered,Plain on your face,Nothing can wipe it,Without a trace.It stings like a cut,With pain clear as day,It aches like the bruise,But it won't go away.
Broken HeartsEvery time your heart is broken,A little piece just cracks.It never really, truly heals,Completely growing back.Over a very longish time,While you cry your bleeding tears,The wound starts to scab,Locking up your hidden Fears.Sometimes you pick it open,And it starts to bleed again,This time it's much easierTo say "Goodbye" to your loving friend.When you can leave it be,For Months and weeks and days,It transforms into a scar,A reminder in many ways.