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Teen Poetry #7
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my comforter's death
| Teen Poetry #7 |
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my comforter's death |
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young_blood Senior Member
since 2003-09-19
Posts 1115Indianapolis, IN 
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my comforter's death i sit in this silent house and hear things of a ghostly pas never shared. this place whispers of lost events person come and gone, years forgotten. in the basement of a silent house i see nothing, but yet everything spectacular. visions dance in front of me to an unplayed tune these sights move quickly from one event to the next. looking up to the rotting support beams above i notice a lipstick red smeared across the splintered wood. the streaks seem to have come from the first floor the florr of endings and beginnings, of sadness and joy. as i carefully climb the creaking staircase i see more of the red that, when dry, looks to be in crayon. arriving at the door to the unknown, a horror fills me this is a dread to surpass all other fears, "what is behind this shield?" of course there is only one way to sastify my curiosity, upon the opening of the door, a scene of a bizarre nature is set. all around are bleeding butterflies, heaven's comfort dashed to the floor they sob and cry, their pain is increasingly too much to bear. i stoop to try and comfort one, but it falls to peices in my hands feelings of failure rise in me, this is falure in all. the only thing left to do is weep with my friends these delicate creatures who had soothes me in my sorrows. strange how their kisses could always calm my state but your lips brushing them sent them to a slow death. they have met agony, the hollower of souls these butterflies will never know peace, never know the hope you stole. i suffer along with my crushed angels for i remember my path through buring hell. i entered a broken and saddened man but returned strong and calloused to you and your life. now you have exacted revenge on those who cared those who understood pain and lent their joy to me. through these friends that became a band of brothers, i survived i was kept alive during a hideous depression in life. one last look around reveals these bleeding hearts their lives are soaking through the floor into the crimson carpet, to the support beams. if i could, i would give them morphine happiness something, anything, to take away their morbid aching. if i could, i would sing sweet songs to send peace songs that relate, yet take them to another place. turning to my left, i see that i must leave now its my turn to take the long walk to another door of mystery. i know what's behind it though: your plans for my destruction once again i remember the suffering of the past and relish it. the future is coming to take me to new lows and deeper depths i anticipate the chance to see you smiling at me - smiling wickedly [This message has been edited by young_blood (10-24-2003 09:10 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2003 Alex Lewis - All Rights Reserved | |||
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dertah Senior Member
since 2003-06-18
Posts 584 |
smiling wickedly????? good write. |
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Tequilia_Sunrise Senior Member
since 2003-02-19
Posts 612Lochalsh, Ontario, Canada |
i enjoyed this write very much i can not belive you are so young  you only will get better with time......... im not sure i can imagine that |
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young_blood Senior Member
since 2003-09-19
Posts 1115Indianapolis, IN |
thank you all so much |
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BrokenDreams Member
since 2003-02-09
Posts 425In The Clouds |
This was really good. I haven't been on here on ages, and it was nice to come back to a piece as good as this. Thanks for the read, it was excellent. -Jen Everything gets better in the end, and if it's not better, it's probably not the end. |
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young_blood Senior Member
since 2003-09-19
Posts 1115Indianapolis, IN |
thanks jen for commenting |
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