A Song Thats Sung..

A song that's sung
tells more than a story
a song that's sung
is sung from the heart
a song that's sung
is a story from the soul
a song that's sung
is the greatest love
a song that's sung
is a give from above
a song that's sung
is an emotion in a melody
a song that's sung
can be whatever you want it to be
a song that's sung
can have a million meanings
a song that's sung
is a diary of emotions...

poem by Emily Summers
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Peace to the world

Peace to the world,
yeah right,
what a sight,
people protesting for the peace,
are just hypocritical,
can't they see?
They're causing trouble for peace,
don't they know that controdicts?
Wars between countries,
religions even companies,
we're too different,
we have too different opinions,
and different ways of expressing them,
so we can't have peace,
thats just a dream,
sorry to break the bubble,
I'm just a realist,
so don't say 'shut up kid'
because this poem will prove,
that people's disagreement makes conflict,

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poem by Emily Summers
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New house

Stepping onto the hard floor,
no memories to be shared here,
thoughts are neutral no emotion,
the unnerving stench of staleness,
and unlived in state feels so impersonal,
so uncomfortable,
memories piled high in our old home,
and stored like books in my head,
it feels so cold here,
unexplainable feeling of fear,
no aroma of delicious food flowing through the house,
the rooms are not personalised,
just stripped bare,
dust flies through the air,
it can't be called a home yet,
it's just a house with inhabitants,
it can only be called mine,
but i will continue to see our previous house as home,
it'll take getting used to,
it'll take time,

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poem by Emily Summers
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Inequalities in the world

So much corruption,
so much hurt,
so much pain going on in the world,
so many people are treated unequally,
they haven't heard of equality,
they're exploited for everything they have a way of living from,
and we see the poverty infront of our eyes,
but it seems however hard we try,
it's always worse than before,

all these bloodthirsty wars,
pulverising our morals,
corrupting our purified souls,
grinding away at our faith,

discrimination progressing,
slowly generates hate,

predjudice blossoming angrilly on a dead tree,
so many people,

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poem by Emily Summers
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