The Monster Left Behind

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The Monster Left Behind
Have you ever felt the
penetrating sting of boiling hot tears
instantly turn to ice,
trailing down your face;
in the vast confusion
that they're no where to be found
when you're so utterly alone?
The inviting darkness,
ever so alluring.
Heat can beat against your skin
and you still feel cold?
In a place, so unimportant,
living in a time that makes no sense
as befuddling concepts
grasp your not-all-there mind,
trying to take over your already
jaded heart.
Day in, day out, like the open
sea; waiting, searching
for a crack of land; some
sign of hope.
And in the sea, you see yourself
trapped down below... drowning
in the ever soul-swallowing
dark depths;
sinking lower; lower still.
They inspire soul-stirring,
earth-shaking passion that
seems to ripple out of you
and your fingers that drip with it.
You can't stop how you feel,
can't lock it away
for fear you'll be giving
up everything that could
cease to be known
as you; yourself.
You have yourself, to love
and appease, but
it's not enough; you hide
even from who you are,
for the sake that your mind,
soul and body won't catch
on to the truth.
Then reality hits...
you're fucked up, beyond saving;
they want freed from your body.
It seems that the only one who
cares is the knife that can bite so deep.
It looks boldly, arrogantly
into your eyes, mentally
uttering those sacred
words, you've come to find comfortably familiar.

"Come to me, sweetest. Come,
love...for we shall be together
soon. You know I can show you the way
no one else is able to.
I make your heart sing,
your body feel at ease. Love me and I shall
be a slave to you, your personal desire..."

The nights ends so abruptly sometimes,
without warning, cautiousness
or regret,
but know that this girl has been
seen in your dreams, whether you
know it or not,
seen but not heard,
a shadow that haunts
for there is no reason to go on...

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LeBrozLeBrozalmost 16 years ago
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An interesting range in the eight poems you had posted on 22 May. The three that show the most promise seem to be the darker ones; they show greater depth of feeling and, unfortunately, have more typos. Besides this one, the other two are:<br>

<i>That Which Silently Destroys</i><br>

and<br>

<i>The story of a girl...</i><br>

You have generally done well with spelling some fairly large words but then you seem to stumble in surprising fashion on others such as in 'Destroys':<br>

"when <b>niavity</b> [naivety] kept me from what I had to do."<br>

Or in the first strophe in 'story':<br>

"who <b>his her</b> cries"<br>

Perhaps it is in the nature of more raw emotion in these three poems that allowed for more glaring errors. Let loose your emotions when you write your first draft, then put a tight cap on the emotions while you slowly edit and polish that which you've written. Keep on writing — you're showing promise here.

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