The Script of Sonny

2 Comments

  • supermancdr
  • is at the point of a writters block...aaahhhh so frustrating

Poem Commentary

This poem was written the night i lost one of my good friends. I know that he wasnt a saint, nodody in this world is, but the way people get taken from us is unfair. We all have a plan in life. Sometimes people get extremely greedy end thier lives before thier time.

The Script of Sonny

R.I.P John "Sonny" Nelson II   *April 3, 2006*

Lies, manipulation, temptation, cruelty, deception, and deciet run this world like unwanted and unknown diseases. It's the death to which someone encounters and kills them both mentally and physically. Once you embrace them, there is no turning back. No light at the end of the tunnel. No cures. Nothing. But lets think. Lets look into the sick and twisted deminsions of this so called place. This place so many of us hold so dearly, or try so dearly to run. We are each manikins programmed to move in motions ran by a shadow above us called "God". They believe a book translated from language to language is the rules that us porclin manikins should be ran by. Consiquences to our pitty mistakes end in death. We each play a role in this world. We each have a script with lines. It is the outline in which our lives are played. For some the scripts are written shorter then others. Then without notice our scripts end in the mist of an unknown object. Our scripts tell us no beginning and no end. Only the middle. We start with questions and end with even more. Thats what we call the beginning but are we sure thats the end. A life taken but none given back to the individuals of those at lost. Questions? Answers? I guess that is the glass house we both mold and break with the scripts called life.

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rachelleann28 commented on The Script of Sonny

09-07-2009

i meant to say I thought of her as my own flesh and blood!!

rachelleann28 commented on The Script of Sonny

09-07-2009

Awe!!! I know how you feel..I just recently lost my Best Friend!! I loved her to death!! I thought of her as my own!! I cried for like 2 weeks and still cry everytime I look at her picture or get into a conversation about her!! She was only 16!!

Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

supermancdr’s Poems (22)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Death By Birth Given 0
Letter To The First Born 0
I Want To Help You Fly 0
Love 0
Im Sorry Pt. 2 0
I Am Love 0
It's So Hard 0
Im Sorry 0
Don't Judge Me 0
My Son 0
Ghetto 0
What Do You See? 0
Family 1
For Real Dreams 2
The Hidden Love Inside 1
My Body 1
The Script of Sonny 2
My Father 1
Differences 2
Dear God 1
I Remember... 1
Questions With No Answers 2

supermancdr’s Friends (3)