65 lines
3.3 KiB
Plaintext
65 lines
3.3 KiB
Plaintext
_______________________________________________ _________________
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\_ __ \_ \ / \ / \_ \ | __/ ____/ \ | \| | __/
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_| |/ / = \| |/ = \| / | ___/_ _ | | | /___ _
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\________/___|___\__|_|__/___|___\_____|______/|_| \__|__|\__|_____/|_|
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======================== "The name speaks for itself!" ========================
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Poetic Rantings
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http://surf.to/damage_inc
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damage_inc@disinfo.net
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===============================================================================
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Blank Pages Revealing Tears.
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Tears slowly caress my face... slowly falling... Sadness with grace. Tortured
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by my thoughts. Torn up inside by emotional fervor. Nostalgic, hopeless,
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romantic... painful sorrow... stinging salt filling my eyes until they're
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fatigued and sore. Draining my soul as it pours out onto these crisp white
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pages. Constantly thinking... and sometimes looking back at myself, throughout
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my life changes and all of its stages. Wondering if I'll ever write something
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meaningful... and lasting... Something enduring that will survive these tears...
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difficult years... and perhaps be remembered as a piece for the ages.
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Pain rips through me like sharp, gleaming knives into my mind. Fierce. A
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weight is on my chest... so heavy I'm confined. The words won't flow from me
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anymore. Constrained. And my body feels tired... worn. I'm left to wonder if
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this is why I was born. Entropy sets in. Too weary to fight, I simply watch
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as it wins.
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With mind at unrest I struggle... It feels as if I'm in a constant battle
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with thoughts and words. My soul feels uneasy and troubled... I can't shake
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these feelings. I can't even express them, or define their meaning. They are
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just there... existing inside. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. The blank
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pages tell the story. Wishing I could write with passion... in an emotional
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fury. Wishing.
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Fragile... frail words are written in haste. I feel dejected... I feel as
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though what I'm writing is just a waste... This is my inner battle. This is
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the wall I must always face. Barriers in my mind... never weakening in the
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least no matter how hard I hit them. Sometimes even fortifying over time.
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Strengthening against me. Wondering if this is how I must stay... and who I
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must forever be. Condemned.
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Struggling to scratch down a few simple words... a sentence... a stanza.
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Anything. Anything to show my worth... Anything with a hint of drama. But
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the pages stare blankly back at me. Mocking me. Taunting. This task of
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writing... can sometimes seem so daunting. An impossibility. I can't write.
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Eyes filling with tears... I can barely see.
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Every ounce of emotion... I try to show... try to give away. No longer can
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I find the words. Nothing to say. Nothing. Blocked by pain... blank as the
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sheets that defiantly remain. Ashamed.
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Tears that tear. Tears that hurt. This is a burden I bear.
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Silent and tame. Blank sheets of shame. All looking the same.
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Always amazed by filled pages... Always with hate for blank ones.
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Always wanting to write something memorable... for the ages.
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Consumed. Upset. Obsessed. How very large those blank pages loomed.
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Written by BLACKENED / Damage, INC. (C)opyright 2001.
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