3rd Writing: Poem #2

Here we are with an even older poem. This one is as depressing(if not more so) then the first and just as bad. The only difference is this doesn't have the upshot like ending of the other.

what should you do
when you feel like dieing
and there's no one who cares

what should you do
when your lifes falling apart
and theres no one to pick up the pieces

what should you do
when the barrels in your mouth
and there's no one there to say "stop"

My Writing 2nd Shot: A Poem

Here's another thing I wrote, it's a poem that's quite bad. I wrote this a long time ago when I was going thru some rough times. Anyway, here it is.

Every day I wake wanting to die
Every night I lie in bed wanting to cry
In between this is my life
What kind of existance is this?

So I guess this is the last goodbye
One more word before I end the lies
No, fuck that shit I'm still alive
The world might want me gone
But since when do I do what I'm told?

First Dose of Writing

My first update and I'm going to put up the begining to a story I started working on awhile back. Hope atleast one person out there enjoys.

A man kneels atop the Waldorf-Astoria’s roof in Chicago, IL. His right hand is placed upon the roof while his left clutches at his side. Blood runs between his fingers and falls into a puddle on the rooftop, while the man breathes hard. Quickly the man’s head snaps up looking straight into the sky as he lets out a loud yell, white light begins to burst forth from his eyes and mouth. In a matter of moments the white light extends from the man in a circle around him, growing ever larger and destroying everything it comes into contact with. After only a few seconds it has engulfed the building and begun destroying Chicago, after a few minutes it has extended past the city limits. Less then an hour passes before it is visible from space, and yet it continues to grow, not stopping until it has engulfed everything past Louisiana into the Gulf of Mexico to the south, reaching past New York into the ocean on the east, stretching to Utah on the west and well into the northern reaches of Canada. The large sphere of white light then collapses in upon itself, leaving nothing where it had touched except for smoke, as the remaining ocean begins to pour into this large crater there is a flash of light. The man from atop the roof is kneeling in a room upon a shag carpet, the room is adorned with posters of peace signs and pictures of people in tie-dyed clothing with long hair. A lady has her hand holding gently onto his forehead and as she releases it she looks at him and utters but a single word “Bummer.”