Stone, Yet Me

Zane A. Murray

My heart is stone
no emotion seen.
feeling the lies of society,
of the punkers, the loners

Showing no complexion to anyone but myself
blade on my bookshelf,
tried to be cool, but it didn't work out,

with my  mind in a box,
sadder than a wounded fox,
laying in the darkness of my room alone with myself,
no violence, no hate, only love for my body,
myself,
 tried to understand girls, asked the girl of my dreams out, she denied,
i went home and cut myself, i cried

I'm not the only kid this way, making the rhyme of sticks and stones,
no my heart is stone, with bones and marrow,
hoping that tomorrow will be a better day,
to express myself, to be one of a kind,
to find that, to destroy me, is to destroy them


They called me maggot, bitch, punk, and worst of all, a faggot, 
but I realize myself is the key, 
I fight for a better darkness in my room,
with a little light.

without a blade in my hand, and not fading into the night.

To see that blood ooze from my cut,
its my calm time,
but i realize, there is a way out,
because my heart of stone, 
is starting to heal me…..
I realize its stone…..yet me