Description: I wrote this in frustration of not being able to get over a girl after a long time had past. The majority of what i had written was about her and i fealt it was a waste creative effort. But as you see i gave her another peace and still due every once in a while
i wish i could stop writing about you
but these thoughts i have
never cease to run through
the tip of my pen
as they gravitate towards the paper
each word over-used and unsure
it use to be, i could just let them flow
in cadence with my tears so my heart would show
but i danced the years away and a long time has past
i no longer hear the music that makes my sadness laugh
now each word gets bogged down with my trite emtions
each note is played out and sturrs no comotion
but you still own the tip of my pen
and i can't remember how long it has been
since i have been able to write
of something other than this sin
it is a self loathing indugence
in the intangable desires of my heart
it is a self-destructive dependency
upon such a lonely art
one that defeats the purpose of expression
and becomes an unhealthy obsession
only to have me wasting my words
in a senceless state of depression
But i know there is no end to this madness
each word i write just carries on the sadness
like mornings due, they evaporate as the sun comes up
but by night fall they condensate and keep me from giving up
This is really good. The flow was akward in the beginning, got better towards the middle, anfd became akward at the end again. In spite of that, the ideas were wonderful. It made me feel like I was sitting there with you while you wrote it.
i thougth the this flowed nicely and id have to kept me with it on longer peices i tend to lose my way not with this i love that also the emotion came through perfect good work
" i no longer hear the music that makes my sadness laugh"-you can no longer have any sense of happiness about thinking about the person
"you still own the tip of my pen"-anything good that you write is always about the person
"it is a self loathing indugence"-there's something about writing about pain that is so powerful it keeps you writing more.
"one that defeats the purpose of expression and becomes an unhealthy obsession only to have me wasting my words in a senceless state of depression"-in the end its like you're writing it all for nothing...even when you know theres no chance in hell you'll be together again. but you can't stop.
JESUS christ. you figured me out for sure. hehe. awesome awesome piece.
Right away with the first line I was like, hell yeah I know what he means...so I'll read more now...
for real you have some serious talent and I haven't even read past the first stanza...I love how you express not wanting to think about them but you just keep writing about them 'the tip of my pen as they gravitate towards the paper'
K...reading on now...
it is a self-destructive dependency upon such a lonely art
WOW...I love this line...it's very obvious to me that you are a really sensitive guy and you seem to be such and artist yourself. YOu seem to see the beauty and art in your pain even though you also know it still f u c k i n g hurts.
A nice ending...sums up everything very nicely...wow I love this one soooo much.
Submission Name: untitled
