View Full Version : The Scary Thing

August 30th, 2008, 9:05 AM
So, it's been a while since I've posted anything here. Mostly because everything I wrote sucked. But since I've hopefully gotten better, I want to post some here. One is humorous, one could be considered funny, and one's more serious. And none are of the rhyming short. Also, I named it "The Scary Thing" because it's the second poem's name and I couldn't think of anything else.


Astrid, I Hate You

I knew it was a bad idea,
But it wasn’t exactly my fault in the first place.
She didn’t let me squirm out of her offer,
All I did was say,
“Care to chat?”
I guess she got carried away.

I knew I should’ve picked number four,
Or at least options one, two, or three.
Anything is better than option five,
I knew it,
Now I curse thee.

I don’t know how she got the idea in her head,
Who has that much money anyway?
Well, I did,
But not for that.
I don’t know anybody who did.

I hate you.
Yes, I really do.
I loathe you,
To a high extreme,
For taking away three thousand bells.

How’d she get the idea in her head?
No one has that much for clothes.
I need to pay off my debt and such,
When I’ll need money, well, who knows.

Return my three thousand bells.
I promise I’ll give you back your paw shirt.
Return my three thousand bells,
And I think my fist would love to meet your face.

It'll Be Fun

I press the “Play” button,
Just as the phone rings.
I look over in horror,
Afraid of what I’ll see.
“Incoming Call,”
And I wait in fright.
The number shows,
I slam my head into the desk.
She’s calling again,
For the eight millionth time.
Isn’t there anyone else?
And I know exactly what she’ll say:
“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

I frantically rack my brain
For an excuse.
As my Mom picks it up and says,
I fell like screaming,
“Oh God Mom,
Just pretend that
We aren’t here!”
She says, “Wait a second,”
Then calls up to me,
“It’s Elizabeth.”
I sigh in defeat,
Pained by it so.
I pick up and the phone,
I say “Hello.”
I don’t need a response,
I know what she’ll say.
Ringing in my ear,
“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Hi!” comes out her cheery voice.
I’m sickened just by the sound.
Come on girl,
Give me a freaking break!
I can’t play with you all the time.
“Yeah?” I say,
Agony overcoming my brain.
I feel like head-desking once more,
But I guess that it’s too late.
“Can you come over?”
The same every day.
Yesterday’s excuse was cleaning out the garage,
Now what do I do?
Because I know,
No matter what…
“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

I think about it for a split-second,
And then I decide not to think.
“I – I gotta clean my room today.”
“What? I thought that was two days ago.”
“Oh, well, it’s messy again.
Sorry, I have to go.”
“But why must you do it every day? It’s like your Mom just makes up an excuse.”
“Oh, no, not at all. But really-”
“I think your Mom hates me. Everyone does. I never have any friends.”
I feel like screaming at her right then,
She's such a stupid girl.
I feel like screaming,
“This is why nobody likes you!
You’re too caught up in yourself!”
I restrain myself-
For the time being-
And say,
“Well, maybe tomorrow.”
“Ugh, I’m so bored. Yeah, yeah.”
“Well then, bye.”
I hang up the phone,
Still not at ease,
For I know what’ll happen tomorrow.
A ring of the phone,
Again and again.
“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

The Scary Thing

Some people have imaginary friends.
I wouldn’t quite say the same for me.
In a way, yes, she is,
But, on the contrary,
It’d be an insult if you said that.
You see,
She has feelings, too.
And her quirks, like everyone else.
When she wants to tell somebody to shut up,
She has to say it thrice.
Her favorite phrase is
“First of all,”
And she loves to yell at me.
I am her loser,
But a retard and stupid head the same.
She loves to treat life as if it’s a game,
And makes everybody else seem insane.
She hates normal things,
And people, too.
They’re too ordinary for her,
Maybe not to me and you.
She says I can’t call her a moron,
Since her and I are the same.

Sometimes I talk to myself.
The scary thing about that?
Well, if you must know,
Sometimes I answer back.

August 30th, 2008, 9:32 AM
Nice concept...it's entruiging how you wrote this one, no rhymes, but yet, it made a mark.