This one is strange also... I a figment of my imagination put down in words.


This is just the other rant of another rambler.
In another bare white room.
This is just the next bet of a similar gambler.
Surrounded by colours from the doom.

This is just another failure,
Donít mind it please.
Look away, hide your eyes,
While you watch, this writing dies.

Itís broken, like that toy, that thing.
I never could work out what it was for.
Like this.

I understand that itís useless.
For me also, not just you.
Iím sorry that itís wasting your time,
But its wasting mine too.
I canít help it.

Itís not my fault.
I donít think so.
I canít help it, time made me.
Itís strong, havenít you ever wrestled it?
It beats me every time, and this is the subject of my losses.
I donít know what Iíll get if I win.

I donít have to worry though, because I never will.

Are you disgusted?
You can tell me if you are.
Even if the truth is that I have brought shame,
Upon you who was born upon a star.

I can feel it releasing me,
Youíll be pleased to know.
My favourite song just came on the radio.

I think it broke the spell,
With itís words of no real wisdom,
But still it has a catchy tune.

The line I just wrote has been deleted.
And will branch off into its own poem, I can assure you.
I doubt youíll read it, after this attempt.
Especially once you find out that this was a branch of itís own,
At one point.

Iím tired now.

Poetry by TalŅa
Read 655 times
Written on 2006-12-22 at 07:46

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