Poems for School

Yes, it has been a while and yes, this was indeed a school assignment but I felt it necessary to share some of the words I have put to paper. They are probably not the most wonderful things you'll ever read but I enjoy them and I hope you all find them enjoyable too.

To Exist

Does one live because he was born,

because he can, because he fears death.

Or does one live to see the sun,

to see its rays shine in the dawn.

Does one love because of love,

or really just of need.

Of selfish want of selfish need

of me of me of me.

So tell me now, what do you think

on human morals raw,

Of why we really do exist,

for good or bad cause. 

~ Personally this next one is my favorite because I put the most though into it. My new English teacher has put great emphasis of living to our trueselves and the conflicts in conformity. This poem does appeal to to those themes and I hope the message isn't too blatently obvious. Enjoy! 

A Piece of Paper

I hold a piece of paper

and put it to my ear.

I make a rip, a sliver, a tear.

What perfection have I ruined,

what beauty have I marred.

The once perfect square,

now harbors a jagged scar.

But yet what beauty have I crafted,

the song of rip and tear.

The sound of separation

Is music to my ears.

Is perfection really beauty, 
the pristine, blank white square?

An untouchable, alienated wonder,

an innocence held dear.

Or does beauty lie in tears,

in rips of jarring red?

Of wounds and of scars,

of experiences of the dead.

I now hold this square,

now ruined by a scar,

and stare and stare and stare

to fix or to discard.

In sudden revelations,

my thoughts in all a blur,

my pen is raised and makes a mark

right along the scar.

Then all sane thoughts forgotten,

my hands make rips and tears,

my pen becomes a sword

slashing ink and blood.

I look down at my paper,

a mess, a piece of trash,

I smooth it out and wonder

as I stare I stare I stare.

~ Are we not like clean sheets of copy paper? We are all the same in till we try to make something different of ourselves and even then, are we truly different?