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In Memory of Steven by Tom

Member of:
GriefNet.org

 

Memorial created 01-19-2008 by
Tom Hagen
Steven Michael Johnson
January 28 1989 - October 24 2007

GLASS ON THE FLOOR

I'm crashing-In the glass-On the floor
I'm falling down-ever emotion in my head
Is slowly misled-More than before
I keep falling-breaking-tumbling-aching
I'm crashing into glass on the floor
This one chance I'm taking-Put my fists up
ask nicely for more
Broken pieces of glass-From a frame
That contains-A family photo of fake smiles
Denies-lies
Inside there all dying
they all keep trying-To hide the lie
Father has taken it upon himself
To ruin their lives-The truth can run
But can't hide
I'm pegging-pleading-so sorry for screaming-
No more-Glass on the floor
hurt me like you did so many times before
But they can't I can't take it anymore
As I lie in glass...
 

NO ONE KNOWS

No one knows, How I think
or what I feel inside
My heart aches, my soul throbs
I wish I was dead, out of this place
Out of my misery
I wish they knew, how I feel
I wish they knew, who I really am
I hate what I do, I hate how I feel
If they only knew, who I really am.
 

SHADOW

Alone lost, torn and broken
I wish I could take back the words that were spoken,
They haunt me
They hold me
My actions control me,
I don't want to run
I don't want to hide
I want to be free from this burden inside
All of my life
I've never been something more
than a shadow, a whisper, a nothing
I've felt lost so alone and so cold
all I wanted was someone to hold
So call out my name or blow me a kiss
something to tell me that I will be missed....
 

Why Do I Do What I Do ?

I am who I am
It's not what you see
I wish everyone else
Could see the inside of me
I put on my mask
And commit a bad task
I don't like what I do
And neither do you
I don't know why
It makes me want to cry
I do it to fit
Just so I can sit
with the kids
The kids who don't care
I really wish I wasn't there
 
 

HAPPY

In this hole, That is me, The dead are rolling over
In this hole, Thickening, Dirt shoveled over shoulders
I feel it in me, So overwhelmed, All this pressure's center rising
My life overturned, Over the despair, All these scars keep ripping open.
Peel me from the skin, Tear me from the rind, Does it make you happy now?
Tear me from the bone, Tear me from myself, Are you feeling happy now?
In this hole that is me, A life that's growing feeble.
In this hole, so limiting The sun has set. All darkness.
Buried underneath, Hands slip off the wheel, Eternal pathway to contention.
Peel me from the skin, Tear me from the rind. Does it make you happy now?
Tear me from the bone, Tear me from myself. Are you feeling happy now?
Are you happy? Are you happy? Are you feeling happy?
In this hole, that is me, left with a heart exhausted.
What's my release? What sets me free?
Do you pull me up just to push me down again?
Peel me from the skin, tear me from the rind, does it make you happy now?
Tear me from the bone, tear me from myself, are you feeling happy now?
Peel me from the skin, tear me from the rind, does it make you happy now?
Tear me from the bone, tear me from myself, are you feeling happy now?
Does it make you happy? Are you feeling happy? Are you fucking happy?
Now that I've lost, left with nothing?
Does it make you happy? Are you feeling happy?
Are you fucking happy?
Now that I've lost
Left with nothing?
 
 

All the poems were written by Steven Johnson
all posted here with the permission of his mother, Mareesa
After you read his poems did you get the message?
Was he reaching out, looking for anyone that could & would help him.
Or are they just words to poems, meaning nothing.
It's to late for him but maybe some one else will need help, will you know the signs?
 

 

 

 

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