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Untitled Thought
Here I was again,
Soaked in my own vile,
Of altramentous silhouettes ,
That displayed themselves prudishly,
Yet graceless and valiant ,
On this deceitful wall of insincerity,
Again , tonight,
I was prodded and sculpted,
Harsh and rude,
Into those fancy silvery moulds,
As my fractured bones and femur potrude against my scarlet dermis,
Prominently displaying themselves,
Broken and bruised,
Beneath this tiffany teardrops,
This obnoxious shades of crimson liquids,
Were made to feel so real
And lightweight,
That I didn't realize were coursing down my coarse
Porcelain fingers,
On that rough , wounded surface.
Blotting through them subsequently,
But I wasn't numb,
Or so I was told,
I was still breathing
When the air raced into my lungs,
And When this rusty crap still beat to its own rhythm,
As they gradually cracked ,
They filled the void of silence,
Friday, 5 September, 2014 12:31:35 AM
45 articles 2 photos 91 comments
Favorite Quote:
“When it's over, I want to say: all my life<br /> I was a bride married to amazement.<br /> I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms. <br /> <br /> When it is over, I don't want to wonder<br /> if I have made of my life something particular, and real.<br /> I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,<br /> or full of argument. <br /> <br /> I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.”