She sat hugging herself
In decaying wooden closet.
Her eyes
Her lifeless brown eyes
Scouring the darkness,
Blankly
A thin streak of light
Peeking from the slightly opened door
Invading her solitude
Ran over her
Dividing her
She rested her head back
Clutched her knees tighter
And closed her eyes
In surreal surrender
And exhaled all her strength
And inhaled the musty stale wood
Letting it devour her soul
Leaving her an empty shell of clay
She was breathing her confinement
Her defeat
To end her empty apprehensions
Harbored deep down
By hope of any possible freedom
And then she wished
The roof could drop
The walls close on her
And the whole box could crop to her size
So that she could fit in perfectly
Maybe after all
It was always about fitting in…
Copyright Β© 2017 stoneronarollercoaster β All rights reserved
If imagery was grown to be real , if art was something so surreal , then this was a piece of magic which I was delighted to feel ππ
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wow.. I am glad you liked it.
thank you so much for such a poetic comment π
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Your at most welcome. You ignited the very of reality through your write ππ
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thanks for appreciating again. thats very kind of you π
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This is beautiful
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Thank you so much π
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Nice poem.
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Thank you π
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Nice one!
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Thank you π
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Nicely done!
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Thank you so much π
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There were many details in your poem that matched my moments as a teen. Wonderfully done tapping into our emotions.
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this is about similar times of my life.. maybe thats why. adolescence teens introduce us to emotions that stay with us forever.
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