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Bleeding colors
Beyond the pale discretion
That is the death of days
The colors are all bleeding
But their hesitation always stays
Shout into the twilight
Rage the twisted hues
As they fight and fight and fight
To avoid paying their dues
They grasp, they hold, they claw
They weep down low
As all their tones begin to blend
And the dark drags them below
Pity the poor colors
For they have lost all their dreams
Their hopes have all been swallowed
By the hoarse hatred of their screams
So pity the poor colors
If you have the will
Their words have all been spoken
And they'll be bleeding still
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I like this alot. Good rhyming here.
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The best stuff is the stuff that you have no idea why you've written, and you have no idea how it came to be - so I say this very loudly, (not obnoxiously, just loud as possible):
WHOO! I LOVE THIS POEM! =D
To the Bookshelf we go |
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Comment by: tathas - 2006-10-26 13:25
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| Wow, I did that? Damn I'm good *grin* I need to write random stuff I don't understand more often :) |
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thats funny that you wrote this and you have no idea what its about. that leaves the door wide open for the reader to form their own interpretation to what the piece refers to. Wonderful writing. To me it spoke of the end of the day, when the beauty that surrounds us all refuses to give into the darkness that descends as the sun sets. And the colors, no matter how many often we see color in our daily lives, its startling beauty still remains fresh when taken out of context.
Wondeful piece..thank you for sharing this. |
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Comment by: tathas - 2006-10-26 07:05
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| Yeah, we'll go with that then :) Nice music quote too. Love that song. |
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