September 22nd, 2003

(no subject)

hey- just joined this community

You know,
I hate writing depressing poetry.
("I'm really a cheerful person,"
she yells,

But sometimes that's what pours
or trickles
drips off my pen and out of my heart.

I'm only
the blue lines here
fracturing the white stillness
because I have to.

I know I've been doing this too long
because I'm beginning not to care
And these words can
fall off the paper
slip accross the floor
and toss themselves into the trash.

I'll just sit here
maybe have another drink
Watch the walls
stay the same color
as yesterday.


i really like this poem, i can relate to it in some ways
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