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Sensitive Am I
Tears I cry are not tears at all
Dejection I feel has made me fall
I feel no wind, but yet chills occur
Hands pat my shoulders, but yet I feel no comfort
This vaporous state I've brought myself in
But nothing's pushed me, yet I begin
Big open fields, where sun does not shine
Quills I feel prick me from behind
Yet no matter where I turn, I'm always looking back
Not understanding myself, yet feeling bad
I lay in my room with this feeling of ennui
Staring at my wall with tears of despondency
As I watch my ceiling fan create circles of trust
I think of how I could not be the same, cause I've already given up
Tears I cry are not tears at all
They're regrettings of past actions I happen to recall
I feel mortification and I don't know why
I don't understand why they're not tears I cry
Or why dolor is a feeling that describes my life
Or how fast all those good days went by
I guess you could call this letting go
I guess you could call this an entangling hole
But I guess I'll never understand why
I'm trapped inside, but I've finally realized
That this is what I am, Sensitive Am I
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This article has 35 comments.
I love that line. It's so poetic and image-inhancing :)
The over-all poem had a lot of feeling and rythm, and your vocabulary was exeotic and artsy. Kudos! <3
http ://www.teenink .com /opinion/spirituality_religion/article/145498/The-Pyramids/
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Favorite Quote:
Life is not waiting for the storm to pass, but learning to dance in the rain.