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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Nightmaredots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: Skinwalker
    Elite Ratio:    2.62 - 36/57/28
    Words: 379
    Class/Type: Story/Misc
    Total Views: 775
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2167



    Description:
       This story is a metaphor for the society we live in. Tell me what you think this story is actually about? This is story was written in a semi-awake state.


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

    dotsNightmaredots
    -------------------------------------------


    I keep dreaming, hoping to never wake for if I do I may have to face life.
    I dream of life without strife, and endless rows of free foods.
    Then suddenly the world turns red and zombies patrol the streets at night.
    The sad creatures follow one thing and common goal, one mood.

    I run through the streets as I hear the dead shriek for sustenance,
    the screams of the dying can be heard echoing over the blood soaked hills.
    No flowers grow and all the creatures are consumed by greed and gluttony.
    The wind blows softly, but smells of sulfer and decay, and the cries of the earth can be heard.

    I frantically run through this wate land seeking refuge, and find a great hill to stand upon.
    I gaze down and see the smoke and destruction from the former living reaching the skies
    as if the smoke wanted to grasp the red orb that cascades light on this half-exsistance.
    I think that this must be a dream and begin yelling for my consience side to wake.

    "It's not real! Wake up!!!!", I shriek as the moanig and wailings of the ghouls reach a feverish peak.
    They had spotted me on the hill and began for me, they wanted me, they wanted my flesh.
    They finally reach me when I realized that I was never dreaming, I was awake the whole time.
    The zombies tore my flesh from the bone and feasted upon me like the rest of my kind.

    Society had been torn asunder and my corpse laid there in a puddle of gore.
    A voice told me that I may come back and be one of the dead.
    I simply replied know because I prefer to be myself and die in agony
    than to follow a crowd, feeding upon the scraps of existance just to exist.

    My eyes stared longer into the sky, and my eyes rolled up.
    Now dead I was finally free to see the behind of the beyond,
    but the rest are damned to search together for what they'll never find.
    I had found peace in dying and being myself, but they lived on being nothing.

    I traded my life for freedom...they traded their freedom for life.




    Submitted on 2004-08-24 22:12:56     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

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