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Metaphore

Stumbling into warm, mirrored rooms of glass and poisons,

Curled up tight like a cannon ball to avoid the accusations,

Slowly rolling, can’t be heard, barely seen, but always felt

Wanting to crash into soft fluffy feathers and be dealt,

Being soaked by tears built up from pain over time,

Then uncurling until completely visible, but not in prime,

Fleeting one way glances like an organic weather vane

Eventually blowing in the right direction to feed the brain,

I’ve never felt more passionate about a girl, than I do for you,

I’m your unbeknown metaphor, and you haven’t got a clue.

Author notes


Written April 13th, 2006

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Comments

  • BlAcK hOlE sUn
    April 14, 2006
    Edit | Reply
    Wow, this was amazing. Great write. I must say you did an awesome job on this. Keep up the good work here. Wonderful job
    x0x0x0x0x0x0
    ~!~Alyssa~!~

  • firkinfedup
    April 13, 2006
    Edit | Reply
    Thanks Nipper :-) I'm glad you like it.

  • Betweenmoods
    April 13, 2006
    Edit | Reply
    Nice poem, I like the flow and rhyme also..
    "Curled up tight like a cannon ball to avoid the accusations"
    I love this line...Great poem.. keep up the good work!