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Broken Man
| Dark Poetry #5 |
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Broken Man |
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Ethan Halo Senior Member
since 2000-04-28
Posts 793on the roof again 
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Dead men tell no tales. But the broken man tells only one tale: the story of what never was. He can only regale you with the long spiral downward and his shameful run through the dark. The broken man spins a story about the possibilities that lie in the world and why they are beyond his reach. There's no place like the dark. The comforting solitude of darkness and its foul accomplice, silence, seem to bring about a supernatural serenity. That's where broken men reside; hidden in depths of false comfort where no one cares to pursue. He scribbles into his notebook all of his crumpled up truths and crumbling beliefs, his yellowed memories of days-gone-by that won't ever repeat themselves. He is only occasionally joined by the soft, piercing voice of an elegant songstress and her haunting piano. Her liquid poetry intoxicates the broken man, producing bitter tears and bitter smiles. She never stays long; only long enough to help him pen a few soggy pages into his book of secrets and sins. A broken man does not crave an audience, but he will keep one that happens to come along. For as much as his private misery means to him, it's never too much to share it with anyone who is interested. As wonderful as the private hell of a broken man is, company is always welcome. A Broken Man. His story reeks of sin and destruction, of sadness and soulless-ness, of shame, misery, and misfortune. And if you knock on his door, he will take you on his journey to the bottoms of bottles, the frozen corners of his mind, and the last turnoff on the road to nowhere. Because like a broken record, a broken man has only one tune, one tale. But every time it plays, he hopes it is the last time. So don't speak; it's not that you'll break a broken man. This is his eulogy. The soul is oftentimes a battlefield where reason and judgement wage war on passion and appetite. |
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| © Copyright 2010 Ethan Halo - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Ethan Halo Senior Member
since 2000-04-28
Posts 793on the roof again |
i should have put this in prose. feel free to move it there. sorry! The soul is oftentimes a battlefield where reason and judgement wage war on passion and appetite. |
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