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I Still Consider It

Author: lucianraven
ASL Info:    21/M/Spfld Il
Elite Ratio:    3.46 - 49 /67 /19
Words: 223
Class/Type: Poetry /I am dead inside
Total Views: 1137
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 1291


It's been too long, I feel like nothing every truly changes, I'm still as dead as I once was, and as I have always been. I've done so much, I've served my country, gone to war, gotten married. But I still feel so numb.

I Still Consider It

It never truly leaves me, it simply waits for nightfall and the days where smiles end
It never truly changes, the sound made when blood drips from a cut with the steady ticking of a clock hand
Years, even decades can fly by, life seems to scream on at an unyielding pace
A mirror, a face, the same but older
Dark circles under bloodshot eyes, red like the angry marks on skin tanned in the desert sun
Perhaps war is what is best for a man who feels nothing
Though I experience pain, and loneliness, the soul-crushing pressure of numbness floods me
I know her face, she is the one thing that causes a failing, silent heart to flutter and pound
But here, half a world away, can it be enough?
Should it be enough?
Scars of darker times trace their way across my skin, memories of times that seem long past
But are they?
Besides the old, sit the newer, raw pink marks of blades drawn with passion across unfeeling flesh
For what?
To feel
To feel is worth the price, paid in blood and the secret shame, the fear of discovery
I still consider it, what might happen should I go just slightly deeper
I would relish the pain, to hurt is to truly be alive it seems
But then?

Submitted on 2015-08-26 21:35:16     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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  Wonderful write. Sometimes you have to cut to let the pain rise to the surface then let it run out just to know you're alive. Very deep and a tad distrubing, which I like. I also enjoyed the flow of the poem. I felt the pain, numbness and distance.
| Posted on 2015-09-10 00:00:00 | by Soulraven | [ Reply to This ]
  There is so much more than just one thing to this. I wonder, where did he come from, grow up, what were his parents like? His childhood home, his close friends, did he have a favorite song? Marked by all the pain of memories and present times, marked by war. All of that gets lost in the pain you describe as if the only thing that has ever existed is the pain. I read this slowly and digested the beauty and bitter sweet tone that each word carried. I love this as a poem. It is important and meaningful, yet I wonder, at what cost to the writer. Thank you for sharing.
| Posted on 2015-08-27 00:00:00 | by lori_tab | [ Reply to This ]
  Seems to me you're haunted by her memory.
The hurt is more than you can stand.
The fall so abymal, pointless to stretch your hand..
It only seems to me...
| Posted on 2015-08-27 00:00:00 | by Damien Vladimir | [ Reply to This ]

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