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![]() Will write poetry for sex! ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Group: Member Posts: 1,110 Joined: Jan 2004 Member No: 600 ![]() |
Ah, yet another quickie.
Home Why is it, thought is home? The broken home, Unbearable and torturous. The memories you run from Hung up on picture frames Crooked with the smile You've always tried to understand. Skies blotched with blood You've only dreamt of bleeding. Your only sanctuary Overcoated with the nightmares You face only on your knees Praying to a false god. |
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#2
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![]() Will write poetry for sex! ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Group: Member Posts: 1,110 Joined: Jan 2004 Member No: 600 ![]() |
Err, I'll get into it if you want, But I have to start from the 'nightmares' line.
But, just that line alone...I'm trying to say that the praying you do...the reach for hope in life, trying to figure out a way through things (in your mind, obviosuly, since that's where the poem's setting is in) is useless. If you're praying to a false god...then, of course, every prayer you make will be unanswered... I also wanted to give the poem a touch of hopelessness at the end... |
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