Justin Silverblade Posted May 5, 2003 Report Posted May 5, 2003 (edited) Some of the lines went a little long, so I don't know if the poem will actually come out as fully intended (as I couldn't indent the ones to show that they were actually on the same lines) Free association style - quite literally actually. Just sat down and wrote exactly what came to mind. Unfortunately, I was in a really bad mood - so it turned out rather dark. So sorry - I know the last thing needed is more depressing poetry. Ah well, I wanted to share it anyways. Enjoy it... - Justin ~~~ Internal Imprisonment No. Don’t make me. I don’t want to. It might not be real. It isn’t. Of course it isn’t. Let me sit here. Let me wallow, in self-misery. In vanity. Vanity? I’m no Important. No VIP. Ha! More depression. Sulk and sway my thoughts. Know that tomorrow I’ll be fine. Wrapped in a façade. An illusion. That life is good. That my friends are all I need. That my family is all I need. That my soul itself will content me. Until moonlight. Until solitude. Then the truth immerges. Conflicting thoughts. That I want more. Greed, not vanity. I’ve no ‘true’ friends. The ones that would be, I don’t want. They’re not right. Not perfect. That’s ok. But then they can’t help me. That’ll be ok, when tomorrow comes. But for tomorrow to come, the sun must first set. Then I sit again. Alone. Without Soul. The Man in the Glass is transparent; hanging on my wall. Useless. Not a crutch. Still alone. Music knows me. Helps me. Sways my thoughts, even as I sleep. Sleep. A barren wasteland. A field of thoughts to sip from, after steeping in truth. Like facing the devil, before the dawn. An epic struggle. An unimportant voyager. Even if I were to surpass it, no one would know. Don’t make me. I don’t want to. I’m content to leave the sails un-set. Let the brew steep some more. Irony. A circle really. Do you see it? A pattern? Is there one? But important – can it be broken? I shout for help but want none. Or is it opposite than my reality? Do I want help but shout for none, instead? So many Questions. So few Answers. What was that quote again? … Futile. As if it would help. Tomorrow it will be okay. After I wade through calm waters, single-handedly – unable to swim. Morning will be false though. Heaven only to be dropped to hell. Again. No. Don’t make me. I don’t want to. And to think – I could call this poetry. Edited May 5, 2003 by Justin Silverblade
Salinye Posted May 5, 2003 Report Posted May 5, 2003 I'm not sure what to say other than that I appreciate the stark nakedness of the words and it prompts me to offer you a *hug* ~Salinye
Ayshela Posted May 5, 2003 Report Posted May 5, 2003 hmmmm you mean i'm not the only one who questions everything in those darkest hours? *hugs*
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