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The Night.
By Monisha Holmes


I remember when I was only 7,
Crying
Yet again.
Like fate had planned for me
To live Life in tears.
I tried to kill myself
Nothing but tears
Of sadness,
Confusion,
Anger,
And love.
Praying to my dearest daddy God for help,
Yet it was never given
Only tears
And hate
Has been given too me.
I remember where
And what I was doing the night
When I was 12
Outside crying in the moonlight
writing my poem wanted
Crying for I have given up on believing in God
Believing he was nothing but a made up story
Though here I am writing this to say my father God did answer
And help me when I first asked for it.
For I have tried to kill myself
Over and over again
I guess you can say it's because I want attention
But that’s not it
It has been because god I have over come everything,
And am still here.
I remember the night of my 13th year
I remember it was night
And I had the knife to my chest.
I felt the cold steel blade
Pointing me
In the chest
Crying
tears of confusion,
sadness,
anger,
and love.
Screaming
And begging for love
And just a simple hug.
Just to get nothing
but hate
in return.
Not thinking about how it could effect the future
Yet knowing
it could never bring any thing
but misfortune.
I scream out words of nothing but regret.
Just remembering that night over
and over again in my mind
I Get nothing
but people saying
they love me
But when I cry
they are never around
When I need a hero
I end up getting nothing
but tears
And that
will never
go away
I remember
that night
Yet before I depart I leave you with a question
Why do I love the night?
When all is have ever brought me
Was woe
Sadness
Anger
Tears
Death
And
Confusion.