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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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I wrote it when I was depressed a few weeks ago. Just now got around to typing it up because I realized that I've gone nearly inactive. Anyway, here's the poem... Questions, Comments, Complaints, Criticisms, and pretty much anything else starting with a "K" sound are welcome.

 

Land of the Fey

 

Locked off from the world, alone by his choice,

he's lost in the darkness, unseen.

Invisible? Yes, but no one hears his voice,

and there's nothing, nobody to lean

on. No one hears his cries, for he's shoved them away,

and he's locked his depression inside.

He's alone in his world, except for the fey

and the demons. Alone. He can't hide.

 

His family sees him, but rarely he speaks.

When he does, no emotion is shown,

for he knows that if ever his dark brooding leaks

they'll take all that he loves, all he's known.

 

In the Land of the Fey, in the Land of his Mind,

all he knows is in danger. But yet,

he can't truly fight, or the humans will find

them and slowly they'll make him forget

of the wonders he's seen and the peace that once came

when he entered the world in his head.

Trapped between two bad options, he bursts into flame

in his mind, and he takes to his bed.

 

Unable to save what he loved, though he tried,

he preserved what was left, frozen still, when he died.

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