---(+ Holy Buffalo +)---

-Cold winter day-

Corridors after corridors
each one the same
Beginning in darkness ending in darkness
lighting between is the only change

My only guide the shard of love
Last one, others gambled and lost
From it I see the outside world
I'm too afraid of losing it
I keep it hidden within me

I want out to the winter day
On to the shimmering snow
whispering wind
Where the bird sings in a birch
It is cold there
colder within me

I'm numb for these hallways
filled with skeletal clones
All they demand tribute
but nothing can they get from me
All I have given
Recieved only pain
My last shard of hope,
of love,
I keep hidden
Maybe someday to be used

That is beautiful, I always enjoy reading your poetry, truely beautiful...

I wrote it when I realized what my last shard of hope was. I've almost lost the little thing so many times.

At least you realized it before it was too late?

Barely. But it's still a painful point.

I know, but the best poetry, and even stories, come from pain..... or dementia

Nice one Glacialis...Truly beautiful. ANd Sorrow, you are right.

Well, seeing as I havn't suffered too much pain in my life, my writing must come from madness

                     

   


(Edited by CardsForSorrow at 1:42 pm on Aug. 12, 2001)

It came from the heart...

It came from my diary, and some extreame boredom

Diary is good...