SerreMoi

Sandra

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Random Thing I wrote by SerreMoi, literature

Literature

Random Thing I wrote

In the back of the low hall, a girl stopped by a grey door. The cracked edges in the wood made a halo around the greasy head of hair. She looked to be no more than 16, her faced ravaged by pre-mature wrinkles. The eyes, once a shocking blue were now slowly fading. Suddenly, a flash passed by her as she was pushed into the space behind. The culprit, a boy who just the day before had asked the young girl for a pencil merely continued walking. She only sighed, the head drooped down into a position it has met many times before. Her name long forgotten by her peers, her voice abandoned in a land far-far away by the owner. "The girl"----as she had

PwB poem by SerreMoi, literature

Literature

PwB poem

Congo sunrise tantalize, Evil eyes hypnotize. Any morning, Every morning. Blossomy rose-color birdsong air, Streaked sour with breakfast cookfire flare. Wide red plank of dirt, Continuous in its mirth. Through Adah eyes, This road past flies. In pieces, rectangles and trapezoids, By the skinny black-line voids. An endless competition, For a half-brain's attention. Inexhaustible parade, Marching immeasurably with no hope for aid. Congo sprawls on the middle of the world, Sun rises and sets for no reason it can hold. Everything that comes out of morning, Undoes itself by nightfall's soaring. Sun sinks away, Sky bleeds as it

Twilight by SerreMoi, literature

Literature

Twilight

Twilight is the perfect time, Strung between the sound and rhyme, In the dark and in the light, Nothing is wrong, nothing is right. And in this land I wander through, I wait for nothing, no sign, no cue, And in this shadow I wander on, Away from pro, away from con, With my spirit at peace tonight, I feel no reason to continue the fight, So I lift myself, on wings I fly, To sit eternally in the sky

Yet Another Untitled Poem by SerreMoi, literature

Literature

Yet Another Untitled Poem

I've been traveling for years Down this cold, wet road No twists, turns, or dead ends And it's beginning to get old... Nothing seems to change It just all tends to repeat Every time I start to run I always fall to my feet I pass by things I've seen many times before Things that kill me to look at ...I'm longing for something more I know where I am Yet, I still feel lost The deadline seems to get further It's what I'm dying to cross My pace is getting slower For I am growing more weak Because the road ahead, doesn't seem to change As far as my eyes can see I know where this road leads But it's somewhere I dread to go I'm

Untitled by SerreMoi, literature

Literature

Untitled

Trip me now and see, That I will simply stumble. Push me even harder, So you can watch me crumble. You brought me down today, It seemed way too easy. I even continued to fall, Deeper with each plea. Just try me again now, When I'm already down. It won't take much, So you can see my frown. Crying so deep inside, I won't hold back for long. Only till I lay in tears, To hear another sad song. I'll fall to tiny pieces, When you watch me break. It was always so easy, Just living as a fake. Crumbled to tiny pieces, Lying all over the floor. You'll only keep going, Only wanting to hurt me more. Hurt me when I'm already down,

World War Three by SerreMoi, literature

Literature

World War Three

The world's stitching fell apart from the very seams, Everything was broken except for my simple dreams. Everything was destroyed by World War Three, I stare, traumatized, at this canvas of human debris. Miserable tears run from deeply seeing eyes, Only sounds are of dying children's desperate cries. I stand here in this misery lit only by a moon so white, I stare out at dead bodies now, this panoramic sight. Nuclear, atomic, it was all simply a game, But I guess it's my fault - nobody's left to take the blame. Crimson blood stains these new burial grounds, A scream in the darkness, death's taboo burns its surrounds. Muscle, flesh

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World War Three by SerreMoi, literature

Literature

World War Three

Untitled by SerreMoi, literature

Literature

Untitled

Yet Another Untitled Poem by SerreMoi, literature

Literature

Yet Another Untitled Poem

Twilight by SerreMoi, literature

Literature

Twilight

PwB poem by SerreMoi, literature

Literature

PwB poem

Random Thing I wrote by SerreMoi, literature

Literature

Random Thing I wrote

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WhiteRoses4Me09

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PwB poem by SerreMoi, literature

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PwB poem

SerreMoi

About SerreMoi

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Artist // Literature

United States
Deviant for 17 years
She / Her

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My Bio

Current Residence: Tampa, Florida
Favourite genre of music: Everything and anything with flowing lyrics
Personal Quote: La chose la plus difficile sur cette terre, c'est d'y vivre.

Favourite Visual Artist

Amy Lee

Favourite Movies

The Ring

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Head Automatica

Favourite Writers

Sylvia Plath

Tools of the Trade

Pen and Paper

Other Interests

writing poetry, drawing, sleeping

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SerreMoi

Jan 11, 2007

O.o donate?

0 min read

Doing this silly relay for life thing...and I need money. X____X I completely forgot teh due date. so please do me a favor and like donate 5 bucks here: https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=191974&lis=0&kntae191974=3DC94D1C40E749538967229D41FBDE9D&supId=153533975 thanks -hands out the virtual milk and cookies-

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SerreMoi

Jan 7, 2007

+.+ So bored.

0 min read

I was so bored today...that I started looking through a bunch of my old folders and junk. and on some old homework or notes or something...I found this poem scribbled in the margin: Sometimes, the only possible answer is this But then you remember who you're going to miss. And life suddenly seems so clear So you're wondering why you ended up here. Just then it comes to you, like it never went away. The reason for your immediate dismay. Your friends left you, your family doesn't care. Even your mind is forgetting your share. Again, the answer is simple: you don't deserve your life. Please stop crying and just pick up that knife...

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SerreMoi

Oct 5, 2006

First Journal Entry...H'OMG

0 min read

Well, I stayed home from school today and am quite bored. Bored enough it seems to create a journal. I'm not all that sure what to put here...I mean am I suppose to ramble about my life? Or maybe write random poems and things to have people oggle. Is that a word? Oggle...seems like one but then again so does schipidonkle but that's not a word. It is a fun one though...schipidonkle, sounds like some sort of German product.  Get your schipidonkle today! This one time offer is only available three times today, order please! Which reminds me...I need to order a book for my English class, the due date has been extended since the teacher's mother