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  soulai7
  WHAT IS EMO?
  The term "Emo" is used as counterculture; it is an abreviation of the word "emotional". Emo it's defining not only an attitude, but also a fashion that are coming from emocore (emo music). Emocore is a combination between hardcore and punk music which was very popular in Washington DC in the late 80's. The emo culture continued to develop between '90 and '00, reaching the height of its popularity today..
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  Guns and knives
  March 7th 2008 by nuk in emo poems 22
  
  It’s fun to play with guns and knives,
  Where I no longer have to hide.
  I show myself, the mess I am,
  Where I let loose all I can.
  Where I can say all I want,
  Without the taunts,
  The names they call me,
  Which yes I may be.
  They hurt me inside,
  And now I cannot hide,
  I live in fright,
  And in endless spite,
  They’re all so scared,
  And so they have to compare,
  Me with the bad,
  So I feel sad.
  I try to hold my head up high,
  But I still feel I need to die,
  I want to cry,
  But I can only sigh,
  I can see the world,
  And the man who sold,
  My whole body goes cold,
  As I’m strictly told,
  I need to be brave; I need to be bold,
  Or I’ll still be like this when I’m old.
  So now I fold this piece of paper,
  Feeling like a crisp thin wafer,
  Easily broken,
  No credit or token,
  And I still haven’t woken,
  From the dream,
  Where I was part of the team.
  And not be left behind,
  For them to be nasty or unkind,
  To be part of the reality,
  To be considered inside sanity,
  I just want to have a friend,
  Where I can help and help to mend.
  
  It’s fun to play with guns and knives,
  And be there just to risk my life,
  To put just myself in danger,
  With a lethal unfamiliar stranger.
  I couldn’t care less,
  With the way I dress,
  Or the way I look,
  But I do with my life that you took.
  You say my head is wrong,
  And that my heart is badly torn,
  You don’t know how wrong you are,
  I just want to go so far.
  Just so far away from them,
  And always be able to defend,
  Myself so that I don’t get beated,
  So badly and so differently treated.
  
  It’s fun to play with guns and knives,
  But the gun that took my friend’s life,
  Hangs high upon my wall,
  Just to show how she did fall.
  She took the bullets out of that gun,
  Leaving a note for me and her mum,
  It explained how her life had been,
  Throughout, but she was just a teen,
  With all the people being mean,
  But her heart was set and she was so keen,
  To leave this world that she had seen.
  Disrupted, chaos, dark and gloom,
  She took that gun and made it her doom.

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