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A poem born of stream of conciousness.
Submitted:Mar 9, 2007 Reads: 103 Comments: 0 Likes: 0
I fall into the spaces made for me
and let go tightly.
The darkness into which I've retreated
keeps the flowers dim.
I am such the social
they forget I exist.
But I havn't been so happy
as I was when I met death.
Everything moves like science fiction.
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Other writing by IvyWinter Kafkaesque Self-Born Mass Hysteria Saint Nothing To Lose A Boy Called Lonely Wandering Wayward
Poetry, Poem, Life, Death, Pain, Sad, About, Heart, Hurt, Depression, Hate, Hope, Romance, Sadness, Dark, Loss, Lost, God, My, You, Girl, Alone, Broken, Suicide, Me, Fear, Friendship, Nature, Time, Friends, Anger, Joy, Tears, Family, Dream