Rahsash Geldich Posted April 9, 2004 Report Posted April 9, 2004 I should be able After long expirence To fix this- Mend the broken Shattered bones That structure all For I am the secret box Made to need To drain the poisons From wounds That they might Heal By locking away The venom of injustice Skilled hands Reach in, pulling Fiberous threads Spinning the pain Into golden comfort A web of relief: Sleep, my child All is well But this time- I can't My hands clumsy Gnarled closed With thick knuckles- Calloused palms- Spreading these tears I wish to wash off Ripping fears away Before the seed has flourished Leaves roots- Deep, sinuous They still claw at the mind To blossom again Because of my Mangled attempts
Ayshela Posted April 15, 2004 Report Posted April 15, 2004 i really don't want to let this slide away without any comment at all - and yet i find myself sitting here with an astonished look at seeing my thoughts and feelings in someone else's words - and i have nothing really to say. i thought i was the only one who thought that, who felt that.. and while, in a way, i'm sorry that i'm not.. it is nice to see someone else put words to it.
Rahsash Geldich Posted April 19, 2004 Author Report Posted April 19, 2004 The Secret Box is one of those metaphors I use a lot, I'm glad that it's felt. Thanks for posting!
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