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FeralPolyglot
Alright, first off, I know that by definition these will qualify as prose. I think that Poetry is a subjective term but since there are people who will argue that it's not poetry if it doesn't have meter and rhyme scheme or whatever, I call this prosetry.

Disclaimer: The following works may contain angst unsuitable for highly empathic or sympathetic audiences. By continuing to read, you acknowledge that you know this and release the poster from all liability if you spontaneously combust. Even if the combustion is not related to the post. smile.gif Thank you.


Silent cries of the aching heart incessantly assail your inner ear. Your smile is backed with tattered emotions. Like sails that have been torn to shreds, the makeshift backdrop does little to keep the vessel moving. The silent screams echo across the pallid desert of your soul. Crying for the void to be filled. Filled by him. Crying without tear. Cruel is the blazing sun above this barren wasteland. He knows that no tear shall come to moisten the cracked plains and he reaps a sadistic satisfaction from watching the land stretch and crack in the silent melodrama playing below. Why will no tear come to save this forsaken plateau? Why will no reprieve from the razorblade windstorms come?


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There are 3 pieces here but I didn't want to take up too many posts. Here's the next piece...
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What if I'm never destined to have a love that time itself would bow to in respect? What if this is it? What if all that keeps us going is the hunt for the end of the rainbow? Would you want to know if that were the way things actually were? Would you want the rose-tinted blindfold ripped from your eyes? Would you want to be Plunged, Thrust, Hurled into the frozen tundra that might actually be the rality behind the cardboard cut-outs of our imagination? What if This is as good as it gets? What if it doesn't get much better than this...? Would you want to know?


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And behind Door Number Three...
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I want someone to love. Someone to take care of me. I cough and tremble. Why is there no one here to hold me? Am I looking among the nightingales for a dove? Searching, living day to day, and marching into Hell for the Heavenly Cause becomes harder every time the mantra "Someday he'll come" is allowed to echo in your mind. If today is the last day there is, then someday will never come. The safety net laid then becomes little more than a spiderweb shadow, useless to catch the falling acrobat. Someday he'll come... Falling down you echo this until the last moment when you realize that someday was just one day too far...


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Thank you very much for reading!
voices_in_my_head
QUOTE (FeralPolyglot @ Mar 19 2005, 08:54 PM)
I want someone to love.  Someone to take care of me.  I cough and tremble.  Why is there no one here to hold me?  Am I looking among the nightingales for a dove?  Searching, living day to day, and marching into Hell for the Heavenly Cause becomes harder every time the mantra "Someday he'll come" is allowed to echo in your mind.  If today is the last day there is, then someday will never come.  The safety net laid then becomes little more than a spiderweb shadow, useless to catch the falling acrobat.  Someday he'll come...  Falling down you echo this until the last moment when you realize that someday was just one day too far...
*

That one's my favorite.

I like them all, really, but that one just sort of stands out to me...

Great job, and keep writing!
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