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    dots Submission Name: Lunatic Writerdots

    Author: Black Angel
    ASL Info:    22/F/Tx
    Elite Ratio:    2 - 16/96/96
    Words: 222
    Class/Type: Poetry/Trapped
    Total Views: 422
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1386


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

    dotsLunatic Writerdots

    Ah, how he wields his weapon
    So gracefully yet strong; full of pride
    Ink drips from the tip like blood
    The paper, his battle field

    His mind races and swirls
    His thoughts pour from his wrist with a flick
    Oh, how he eyes his creation

    No one deserves to read such a thing
    He smiles at his last and greatest piece of art
    The words devour his mind
    How shall he end it all?

    With a lick of his lips he plays God
    “You all die!” He screams with a maniac’s laugh
    Yet his creations just stare at him
    A mocking smile dancing on their lips

    How dare his creations defy him so mockingly!
    He is the Omega!
    A twisted smile forms on his face
    No matter…
    He will just have to teach them a lesson

    In his mind he watches them die
    Falling to the floor like flies
    Blood splattering everywhere

    The sound of a door closing snaps him out of his killing spree
    Slammed back into reality of a small room
    Four white walls made of pillows
    The jacket that hugs you

    The Lunatic Writer, they call him
    Driven crazy by his own words
    But if you truly think about it
    Aren’t all writers lunatics?

    Submitted on 2012-04-24 17:57:43     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I prefer the title "looney" rather than lunatic for the sake of the sacred cartoons. Besides, one might get mistaken for the Canadian coin of that name whereas "lunatic" is rather dead-ended conveyance wise. You got pillows? How'd you get pillows?
    | Posted on 2012-04-24 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ]
      i think we all bounce off those walls at one time or another...

    and there are many times i look at all my poems and just want to put them in a pile, have a big bonfire and be done with it.

    figure out some other calling that may not drive me as crazy...

    so is the poet in his or her asylum voluntarily committed, or forced to be in the crazy mindset?

    good write for us to relate to.

    | Posted on 2012-04-24 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]

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