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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted

Sinking into a bathtub filled with solid cubes of ice

The cold sunk into my skin already

I stare alive at the ceiling

And wonder how long it's been since I died.

 

I walk through halls filled with vitality

And wonder when it happened.

Did I drink something that disagreed with me?

Was I poisoned covertly in my sleep?

 

Or did the novacaine set in at the dentists

And never decide to fade?

Where did all the feeling go

Why is my world painted in gray?

 

Why don't I feel afraid or disturbed

Why can't I remember your smile

What happened to my memories

When did I die?

 

The boxes I place upon the shelves

Are they merely a dream, a fantastic vision

Somehow my soul persisting yet

Though it died so many days hence

 

Why doesn't the music revitalize me anymore

Why do the memories fade

What happened to all the greens and blues

Why did they have to fade

 

In a world of shadows and twilight

Why am I not afraid

I must have had feeling once

Else how would I know what was gone

 

Will I awake in a wooden tomb

Or a watery grave 'neath the sea

Have I already died and just kept going

When did I become so numb?

Posted

Ooohh, so visual and metaphorical. I love it.

 

I love how the poem seems to be soft-spoken or non-chalant,

As if to say "I'm too numb to feel dead."

 

The flow broke a few times, you can PM me if it matters.

It shouldn't though, I only noticed it on my third read.

 

It didn't strike me as a love poem (of sorts) at first, bbut you pulled that off nicely.

Well done Fal.

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