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What do you think of this poem I wrote?

Discussion in 'Entertainment and Technology' started by Theagonist, Jan 30, 2013.

  1. Theagonist

    Regular Member

    Joined:
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    Location:
    Missouri
    Gender:
    Male
    Sexual Orientation:
    Gay
    Out Status:
    All but family
    In a room filled with a solitary red hue
    The bourgeois spins a wheel
    With no destination, nor need
    She will spin until her brittle Hands bleed
    Just to satisfy her ennui and artifice
    But she does not see - the rien I see
    The monster approaching her empty dreams

    Spinning still - she does not know
    The insomniac rose will begin to grow
    The thorn of clandestine and ebony
    Ostracized for he began to realize
    What lies in nonsense is decadence
    Which sparks interest
    Who's lover is a dadaist
    But his story is over now
    As Seth lead the way
    A poet dies in dismay

    The thorn as she spun penetrated
    A distraction and a lack of action
    She knew the temptation for she so loved the sensation
    Of crass, rebellious - ways
    The thought laid it's seed
    In her Gaulish mind it breeds
    She has no other need and no regrets
    So she proceeds and the smile lets
    With full intention and desire
    Caring none of her fate that will transpire
    She presses her finger on the thorn
    So now she bleeds knowingly
    she did not recede