As they Well up from inside
Every glistening drop a cherished memory
Lapping on a distnt shore.
A thousand thousand dark haired, blue eyed replacements
March single file off a rugged clifftop.
All flawed.
High above the shrieking gulls
The original, the perfection
Jerks my puppet strings
Leaves me face down on a narrow bed,
Cold.
Cold now my warmth is gone,
Dribbling pleas against a pillow
As my throat is cut and a harsh rash
Seeps over my skin for your pleasure.
Now the shackles bite as I am flung down
Down to where even the vultures can't pick my sobbing bones.
For the chains stretch up, up to the clouds
Where my master tries to pry them from his grasp.
I am a nuisence.
A nothing who obstructs him.
My good times are dead as the verse
He wrote for me.
Choke me on you,
Let me die a death I am suited to.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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the actual poem is very good, conveying a sense of frustration, despair, hopelessness and ultimately a conflict between the wish to be accepted by the "puppet master" and a wish t end it all by dieing,
However, it is xmas time, cheer up, and have a happy new year
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wow! he was actually bin civilized 4 once! ~*~Kithnec~*~ xx
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Thanks Simon (not often I say that) the dedication is to the usual person...I guess I'm sorry he wrecked things for us, but that's life *shrugs*
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This is a really good poem, just cheak your spellin in places but a very good poem never-the-less...keep it up hunni ~*~Kithnec~*~
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Where's the spelling mistake? *panics* Not seen you on here in aaaaaaaaages, how be?
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3rd line..''Lapping on a distnt shore'' didnt u mean ''Lapping on a distant shore''? ~*~Kithnec~*~
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dammit!
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