BROKEN WRITING: written and heard poetry

Milkweed Meadow

This poem is long, almost like a story. Also, if you don't like looooong poems.....skip this one.
____________________________________________
Trapped in this life,
Our emotions locked up,
We run to the Milkweed Meadow,
Where no one's stuck up.

We hid in the meadow,
Collected our keys,
And unlocked our emotions,
So they could run wild and we could run free.

We told the meadow our secrets,
But, of course, there was a peeping tom,
He told our keepers our secrets,
And they didn't like it at all.

The next day, on our way to the meadow,
They caught us in a snap,
They took away our emotion boxes
And they wouldn't give them back.

We no longer have emotions,
We seem dead and hollow eyed,
Unlike others who keep their locked emotion box
We lost our rights and pride.

But we miss the beautiful sun,
The taste of its rays,
So, we plan to go back,
The very next day.

We made up a scheme,
To exceed our dream,
Because we missed the Milkweed Meadow,
You see?

We got passed the people,
Got passed the guards,
But, someone caught us,
Even though we tried so hard.

They took us to the keepers,
As we drowned in dread,
We were so scared,
Most of us wished we were dead.

The keepers offended said,
"Are you not grateful we give you shelter and bread?
If you try this again,
You all shall be banished,
With nothing, but your foolish-minded heads."

But, the darkness scratched upon our skin,
Our senses blinded with greed,
We missed our emotions and secrets,
So, we thought up another scheme.

We made it outside of the place we had called home,
How we succeeded...(I'll leave out the dirty deeds.)
But, when we got to the meadow, it was all dead,
It died with our emotions and it was evil, like us, instead.

We mourned for the sun was gone,
The darkness clawed our flesh,
We tried to wipe it off,
But, it embedded deeper instead.

We started to sprint back,
To the place we called home,
But, all the gates where locked,
So we were left alone.

We tried to hide in the milkweed,
But sadly, it was shriveled and dead,
The darkness slowly ate our skin,
For there was nowhere we could have fled.

So now there's almost no one left,
Through skin our bones can be seen,
And if you look into our hollow eyes,
All you'll see is greed.