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Tall Tales Of A Fantasy

Poetry By: Love Reaper
Young adult



Can you make me stop the hurt?


Submitted:Nov 14, 2011    Reads: 19    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   


The existence I carry within my soul is false advertisement. I don't need to feed, I don't need to breathe, but I would like to. I want to become a fat queen, enriched and of course rich with greed yet humble, appreciating the days I would go surviving off of ions.

But no, I am homeless, dirty, hopeless. They say in time if I try hard enough I will get what I need, but I am now too broken. Try, I fall, break my ribs. Get up, I try again, fall, the ribs grow deeper within my wounds.

So I stop and they wonder why, not knowing, that each and every time I fall, I do more damage to my internals than good. The good news is that I have a void between my chest plate, no bleeding heart for me.

I once bore fruit of the sweet paradise laid beside me. I couldn't ask for anything more, but my paradise soon became hell as I realized that my very touch was as if acid touched the skin.

So I left.

Into their reality making it my own, giving up all unreliable hope.

Sometimes I like to stop and stare into the world I once only knew. Remember the times of peace and serenity I was once bestowed upon.

The love I had shall not be explained. You have to see it to believe, feel it to know, to understand that the best of words I describe to tell the feelings are so horribly underestimated and worthless.

I use to look at my world dully, nonchalantly, missing what I knew was the best thing that had ever occurred in my worthless being, missing what I knew how to do most perfectly. But in this world it is against their gods.

Then I saw you and grew bitter with ache. The knots in my stomach became knots within knots. We are miles away. You see me, but I see you more. For you are the ticket to possibly releasing the burden of fading into this Earth, yet I can't reach you.

For you must extend your hand, meet me half way so we can connect, so you can pull me away from the death of me by my own destructive griefs. But you wont pull me closer, yet you confuse me by shaking my hand everyday and then go off into the oblivion.

I lost hope yet I've grown furious to regain the ability. For everyday you shake my hand and I wonder if this is the day you'll pull me into your arms and let me merge with you, stay with you. But I see you, I see your DNA's code.

My invisible earthly existence likes to halt and stare in bewilderment of the idea that our worlds could orbit into us and we could share what we deny. What we fear most. What we are not allowed to have and share.

We both know too well what our fears contain, yet our fears on top of our fears seal and contain them making us grow ill when we try to reveal them.

Stranger, I do not know your name, I do not know what your plans are if you continue to stay or disappear, but please take me with you. Take me under your arms like a mother bird takes its baby bird as it tries to fly. Please.

Take me under before I dive the moment you take your eyes off of me a second too long. Take me under before I push myself off of your unstable nest, greeting the ground with great effortless love.





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