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    dots Submission Name: Contradicted Me || part 22dots

    Author: MyPeriodical
    ASL Info:    18/m/pr
    Elite Ratio:    4.33 - 303/229/267
    Words: 135
    Class/Type: Poetry/Death
    Total Views: 1097
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 839

       I think I had already published a Contradicted Me }} part 22, but I cleaned out my blog a bit the other day. Erased quite a few writings, since they were so dated.

    {PART 1. OF [?])

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

    dotsContradicted Me || part 22dots

    Recollections suit no more favor than that of one’s deepest burdens…and these I carry are eternal. If only- as the dead do not tell- I could be. Alas, I am the memory of what’s been lost and what will not become, but could have been. Tell me, child, have you ever bandaged a stranger’s skin?

    Witnessed severed limbs, bent ring fingers to then again be taught indifference towards any single sin?
    Kissed your first love’s lips?
    Learned to collect fragments of every childhood aspiration in order to compress them into dispersed cysts across your shedding skin?
    Not only run from your duties, but as the coward you’d been afraid to be; resist?
    And following, known your assistance had been missed?

    After all; not knowing you had, for however long, been feeling like this?

    Submitted on 2014-09-26 22:49:24     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

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

    ||| Comments |||
      How is it that you are only 16? Mind Blowing!
    | Posted on 2014-10-08 00:00:00 | by Silverdog | [ Reply to This ]
      The imagery here is astounding. I'm mostly likely a little biased in saying that the illusion to shedding skin held the most import to me because it reminded me of snakes, and I looooove snakes. I used to have two of them as pets years ago, and I loved them to death.


    But back to the piece. While I get fleeting images of what's trying to be said here, the whole picture isn't falling into place. I think this may be that without the context that lead to it being written, I'm stumbling around in the dark with only brief flashes of lightning to keep me from falling.

    What I do get from it is that it seems to speak of regret of not trying (or succeeding) in carrying out one's dreams.

    "Alas, I am the memory of what’s been lost and what will not become, but could have been."

    What-Could-Have-Been is a double-edged sword of memory that will utterly slay your inner peace. And yet we all pick up this sword and stab ourselves with it.

    Moving on, we see mention of bandaging a stranger's skin, severed limbs, bent fingers...rather morbid stuff. These images are quite concrete, perhaps taking place in a morgue as a body is examined and prepared for burial/disposal/what-have-you. It is said that when contemplating death, we end up contemplating (and appreciating) life all the more. Even the Bible says as much:

    "Better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasting, for that is the end of every man, and the living should take it to heart."<i> - Ecclesiastes 7:2

    This next part feels like it strikes close to home.

    "Not only run from your duties, but as the coward you’d been afraid to be; resist?"

    I don't take responsibility lightly, but I do like to avoid as much responsibility as possible. This is partly out of selfishness, I will admit as much, but also partly due to my mental instability and the complications that come along with it. I find with each day that goes by, my mind feels like it is breaking more and more. Going out of the house to deal with people at work is more than I can take sometimes; by the end of a day at work I am completely enervated, wandering home like a zombie to recharge in solitude.

    "And following, known your assistance had been missed?

    I wish I knew what this meant. Assisting in what?

    Also, I just couldn't help but say that the rhythm and wording of this part:

    "Not only run from your duties, but as the coward you’d been afraid to be; resist?
    And following, known your assistance had been missed?"

    reminds me of 'A Dream Deferred' by Langston Hughes:

    "What happens to a dream deferred?

    Does it dry up
    like a raisin in the sun?
    Or fester like a sore--
    And then run?
    Does it stink like rotten meat?
    Or crust and sugar over--
    like a syrupy sweet?

    Maybe it just sags
    like a heavy load.

    Or does it explode?"<i>

    And now, the last line:
    "After all; not knowing you had, for however long, been feeling like this?"

    What a way to end it, with a punch right to the gut. It's funny (in a tragic sort of way) how well we hide ourselves FROM OURSELVES. I wish I understood what was happening inside of me, and I'm sure if my brain would just give me a hint I might be a little bit closer to understanding, but NOPE. Not happening.

    Anywho, this is all just ramblings on my part. Most of my comments are just stream-of-consciousness barely hemmed in.

    -Ruqyo Highsong

    | Posted on 2014-10-04 00:00:00 | by AsiaticFox | [ Reply to This ]

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