{ Slay —— Avin
The name of this poem is "Why is It?" it has a PG-13 rating. The poem is is dedicated partially to Bach and a girl I know, and criticism is allowed.
21:45, February 15, 2015 (UTC)
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No-one is allowed to copy from this, you may use the ideas that you may receive from reading this. If you wish to use part of this poem in a story or for anything else on the wiki, politely ask me before you copy the poem.

Why is it Why is it that I cannot run?
Why is it that every corner I turn?
Why is it that he still stands there?
Why is it that I remember him?
Remember him when I lie awake?
Why can I still taste her lips?
Why should I,
I be tormented with the memory?
The memory of yet another?
Never has one been above the other?
How could it be, that I see him?
So fit and trim?
And there she is with him…
Happy as can be?
But do I see that?
I see hate,
I see anger,
I see pain.
How can I move on,
When all I feel is disgust?
What is this disgusting behavior?
It brings me to my knees at night
Calls me out as a monster.
And still I loathe her
I can remember the way she tasted
Still I cannot forget…
The light at night…
It has grown dim, and the moving on,
the moving on has begun,
Time has passed
Time has dawned.
There she stands, pawning her heart
Dealing with all the same emotions
Where am I?
Where am I?
Am I still there?
Am I still here?!
Where is she?
moved on, like the wind
It brings change,
it hands over another.
A memory of a lover.
yet, not one was above the other?
How could I?
Could I be pretentious?
Could I be the dead?
OR am I the rising?
Fighting my way to the top?
To the top?
Only to realize?
Realize that the ground,
The ground is so,
So far below me.
The higher I get, the harder…
The harder it is to breathe
The more painful my mistakes become.
So then when yet another comes to me?
Will I pass her up?
Will I try too hard?
Or try not enough?
Or will I be the end of my own demise?
Sweating red,
breathing blood?
bringing curses from my lips for a memory
A memory of the past?
Will I take what I know?
Will I take it to burn it?
OR can I take it to help another?
How is it that it screams so much?
That it screams so much at me?
Could it be, that she feels it to?
That which she is of yet another?
Not yet better than another?
How much will it hurt her?
Will it hurt her if I fail to be more?
More than less of my past?
My past that is forever in me?
Or will it cause me to be the victim?
The casualty?
The culprit of it all?
Will I drag her down with me?
How can it be?
Should I flee the feeling?
The feeling?
Oh the feeling…
It makes my skin crawl,
It makes it peel.
Will what is underneath,
Will it shine through,
or cause me to bleed dry?
How hard is it that I have to try?
Is that which I have done,
Is it enough?
Have I reached the summit,
Reached it only to be told,
To be told to transcend the sky?
I feel it yet again, can I be unhappy?
Unhappy when she smiles at me?
When I catch her staring?
Can I keep myself from lolling,
looking at her?
Will she stop smiling at me?
Will I fall away?
how can it be?
That this, on the canvas is what I see?
The sun is disappearing,
and still the light is not withholding
She’s here now
here in my head,
She’s not the past,
She’s far from that…
Is it?
Is it that she’s the future?
How can it be,
when the signals seem,
seem so mixed?
I ask for advice from one
One tells me to try,
One wants me to succeed,
But how can I succeed without,
without remembering what I have done?
One tells me, don’t worry, it’ll be fine.
One says, you have what it takes.
One, she, says you have what it takes.
What it takes to call her “mine”
One reminds, how can you,
How can you, if you don’t try?
Then, when I remember what I can do.
I shake, and my hands are nervous.
My brain focuses, on what I don’t like
What I don’t like in that instance,
There she sits…
Sits patiently…
Patiently waiting for me to explain…
Can I forget her eyes?
How hard was it?
How hard can it be?
How hard can it be to do it again?
I see my past, it is running fast…
Faster and faster…
And it…
it wants to catch up…
to catch up and ruin everything for me…
How can I feel it…
How can I know?
What can I do?
One reminds me,
One, she, says,