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    dots Submission Name: Oncedots

    Author: Queen_of_spades
    ASL Info:    21/F/Nocturne
    Elite Ratio:    2.79 - 95/166/107
    Words: 97
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 694
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 733

       I've decided that I hate myself for being so boring. Can this even really be considered poetry? I think not.

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


    I was once a romantic.
    I pined
    I longed
    I loved

    I was once a poet.
    I felt
    I bled
    I wrote

    I was once a creative.
    I was original,

    Now all that is left
    is a shadow
    of what
    I used
    to be

    I am colorless,

    I am boring,

    I don't remember
    what happened
    to the one
    I used
    to be

    but I hope
    one day
    I'll find her

    because the
    hollow is
    killing me

    Submitted on 2013-11-09 11:05:18     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      As our imagination's immaturities grow to fruition we have a tendency to forget the novelty and innocence of their conception. This doesn't make them any less original or perhaps unique. To be replete we must run them through the gauntlet of comparisons to what we know of humanity. They may seem to lose some of their individual or personal nature in the hubbub. This shouldn't overshadow their inventive conception on the origins up of personal, even though we may have to realize they may have been had before by others. I say do something creative with them anyway, make them yours again. Poetry and creative writings are a lot like fingerprints, unique, individual, personal. You shouldn't mistake your maturity for a lack of creative imagination. I am old yet I retain some of my youth…..imagination never grows old though it may seem a bit hackneyed if examined in aftermath. Truly original thoughts are hard to come by but it's their newness to us that lends them life and vibrance. Live, love, learn, believe in the individuality of your conception for this is the nature of intellectual sanctity as a being. Just because it resonates perhaps as an echo might doesn't make it hollow or worthless. Try not to be so self judgmental for you will find you are your toughest critic. I recommend atrociously impetuous impudence on the impromptu innuendo junctural. Life will become a nonce-ness nuance, with a be here now on the side.


    PS: Impertinence important, inadvertence inaplicable, initiate innate interpreters interveen intricacy, spanned collapsible feasible oriented pervasive artistry instructor armed precursors.
    | Posted on 2013-11-09 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]

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