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| Dark Poetry #4 |
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River Senior Member
since 2003-09-16
Posts 627my own little world |
Rattle ransack my hazy fuzebox broken neuron circuit brain effortless, I tear the pages I made full of rage anger mistrust Scratch the lines that smoked the vent smash these walls and calm my focus I defy I refuse to pity you sour repititious screaming snake that I once loved You left me alone like a little boy running away from home now in a fog of your own distant from yourself as you are from me torn as paper fading like whispers not knowing my name Your image so close to my eyes this perspective broken as your hooded figure stands cold behind glass shards staring as if you have something to say in horror freeze I scream plead to never become the schizophrenic demon inside the shattered mirror for to become the monster I fear is the sickest hell the heaviest tear Torn as paper not knowing my name the mirror that is my blood My father. "Stained by the sun, I can see colors...colors of mercy washing over me." - 3 Minutes From Home |
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| © Copyright 2004 Bonnie Sue Bixler - All Rights Reserved | |||
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littlewing Member Rara Avis
since 2003-03-02
Posts 9655New York |
OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG this is one powerful write! Good Lord, it is amazing . . . I adore the writing, the content I shall give a  for.beautiful writing. God, what a line: you sour repititious screaming snake that I once loved |
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Hollow_Emptiness Senior Member
since 2004-02-01
Posts 715New Zealand |
Everything lw said, lol. Hollow. Courtney. I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad. The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had. - Gary Jules, Mad World. |
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Purity Senior Member
since 2001-11-20
Posts 526Once Upon, USA |
And Stewardship was her name... No one is expected to be a doormat... You were truly admirable at waxing poetic with this one, River. Sharred me up inside. Love and Always! Carrigan Wings bruised from turning away in such confined space...Not broken...still healable...still feathered with life, somewhere |
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green_itchy_stuff Senior Member
since 2003-06-26
Posts 1929New Caney, Tx |
Fathers. Yeah my father. This reminds me of him. I haven't turned my back on him, but his stubborness and second-nature discouragement of everything I ever tell him about. Yeah fathers can do things that make you mad, but love them anyway. This poem to me is like crawling around in ashes and broken glass like a snake, only being human, and then right at the end its like you stand up and let yourself be known. Thats so awesome. I love it. lol. -GIS He has made everything beautiful in its own time. -Ecclesiastes 3:11 |
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