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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Sitting with medots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: taintedsmiles
    Elite Ratio:    3.8 - 64/90/75
    Words: 242
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 794
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1813



    Description:
       nothing is a work of art only to some of those who relate and feel it...and so it is what it is...it may or may not be art...but it is what it is


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsSitting with medots
    -------------------------------------------


    This nothingness about me;
    This empty hole in my throat...
    Like a dusty, old worn path;
    Seems to be,
    A never ending road.
    I am sore...
    Tired, and sick.
    Working for poor;
    Only to be told,
    Tell me, "I'm not old,
    enough."
    Too young to,
    Understand.
    No wisdom for a smaller hand.
    I sit, in still silence...
    Thoughts dancing,
    Between my ears.
    What to say.
    How to say it.
    Explain what i feel,
    the way i'm feeling it...
    Even though,
    I don't know:
    Exactly...
    What I'm feeling.
    Is it sadness?
    Pain for these, tears?
    Hurt that makes them?
    Or is it called, fear...
    Of a dream collector?
    Filing my dreams...
    Looking back on these;
    Tell me, are they future memories?
    Pain for what it means.
    Does he like me?
    Am i ready?
    Is it over?
    Will she let me?
    Why cry for appearance;
    In a dream?
    Am i at all,
    Any kind of, worthy?
    For anything...
    I sit in a cloud of, raining thoughts...
    I have tears, smeared,
    On my face.
    Wiping a tear with the, opposite hand;
    On the opposite, side,
    Of my face...
    Remembering...
    Thinking...
    Caring hands took away,
    Those, shedded pains.
    I lean back...
    In my chair.
    Thoughts and whispers:
    Underneathe my hair.
    I cry...
    I weep...
    Whatever you want to call it.
    It's there;
    Like it usually is.
    I don't know why, it makes me,
    Free, these tears...
    But it's here, sitting with me.
    Right between,
    My ears.




    Submitted on 2008-02-15 21:44:15     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      "I sit, in still silence...
    Thoughts dancing,
    Between my ears.
    What to say.
    How to say it.
    Explain what i feel,
    the way i'm feeling it...
    Even though,
    I don't know:
    Exactly..."
    i really love the way you put this part,
    it reflects so clearly the way i, personally, struggle to find words to express myself and to define what i feel

    "Does he like me?
    Am i ready?
    Is it over?
    Will she let me?
    Why cry for appearance;
    In a dream?
    Am i at all,
    Any kind of, worthy?"
    in this sentence, maybe it was not on purpose but to me leaving the "i" in lower case just highlights the helplessness and the feelings of being inferior to other people

    the lack of spaces on this reading makes me think of how our thoughts jump from one thing to another without a pause, something that this part kind of confirms it [for me at least]:
    "But it's here, sitting with me.
    Right between,
    My ears."
    | Posted on 2008-02-18 00:00:00 | by rubymoon | [ Reply to This ]
      sorry...but i think it could do with a few comma or full stops or just spaces to break it up...
    >.<
    the piece seem to swing from one place to another, maybe if it was in different stanzas i would have been able to better grasp it
    sorry if i offend
    >.<
    i am sure it makes a wonderful piece... if i could only understand it
    | Posted on 2008-02-16 00:00:00 | by rubymoon | [ Reply to This ]


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    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.


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