Post by auraki on Oct 4, 2004 20:08:22 GMT -5
Okay, so everyone probably has it: dark, dismal, soul-crushingly horrible poetry that you wish you had bongo drums, a black turtleneck, and a cyanide pill to take after you read it. The stuff that seems to knock hard on the door of "Teenaged Brat" or "Over-dramatic". So, here's mine. Once I re-read it I had to laugh, because it is really quite terrible, but it reminds me of a time when things weren't going quite so well for me, a time where things seemed hopeless. When you are angry at the world angsty, depressing poetry seems like pure genius. No rhyme scheme or any of that wonderful poetic crap, just vague, depressing statements heavily burdened with colorful adjectives. Oh, the agony....
~~~~~~~~~~
The Hidden Me
In the dark is where I am me.
My mind’s eye cruel and pessimistic,
A pinpoint of light suffocating in black,
A dim soul wreathed in silky cobwebs.
I let It sift through endless dreams,
Let It crush heedlessly the brightest one.
Washing over me like a tide on sand,
Softly kissing as It rends me to pieces,
Common sense will never work here,
Only what can be felt with pain.
Only the darkest instincts hold.
Cheerful sunshine is not welcomed.
It asks me why I strive so hard,
Why my pink vision extends so far,
Why I try to reach so high.
When will I finally give up and die?
Silvery as It slides like mercury,
Poisoning me as It makes It’s retreat.
Into the pit is where It hides,
Until the dark let’s It bloom again.
*provides your choice of ceremonial suicide dagger or cyanide pill*
~~~~~~~~~~
The Hidden Me
In the dark is where I am me.
My mind’s eye cruel and pessimistic,
A pinpoint of light suffocating in black,
A dim soul wreathed in silky cobwebs.
I let It sift through endless dreams,
Let It crush heedlessly the brightest one.
Washing over me like a tide on sand,
Softly kissing as It rends me to pieces,
Common sense will never work here,
Only what can be felt with pain.
Only the darkest instincts hold.
Cheerful sunshine is not welcomed.
It asks me why I strive so hard,
Why my pink vision extends so far,
Why I try to reach so high.
When will I finally give up and die?
Silvery as It slides like mercury,
Poisoning me as It makes It’s retreat.
Into the pit is where It hides,
Until the dark let’s It bloom again.
*provides your choice of ceremonial suicide dagger or cyanide pill*
[/glow]
. Yeah...there is more where that came from. 
But I haven't been writing a ton of fresh poetry lately because frankly whenever I have the urge to write poetry it usually means I'm not having a peachy keen day/week/month/year.