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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

fragmented, not broken


Tralla

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two

or three

or a baker's dozen pieces of me

fragmented, disjointed, not broken

 

broken is too violent a word

 

overlapping, conflicting,

disagreeing

agreeing to disagree

not warring

 

warring takes too much effort

 

am I happy

sad

or somewhere in between

 

am I a bitch

or a sweetheart

or something else entirely

 

is there anything but

work and

school and

Solitude?

 

questions are too uncertain

 

and so everything returns to nothing

and I plod, not doggishly or mulelike but

something of a hybrid

both kicking and biting at anything near

while craving the gentle word

or soothing touch

of a heart not so cold as mine.

 

and the pieces become a puzzle

i never try to sort

because ignorance is bliss

 

puzzles take too much time

 

and questions are too uncertain

 

and all returns to nothing

 

 

Nothing inside me swells

and breathes

and lives

not doggish or mulelike but

something else entirely

grows

s p r e a d s

malignant

until the me is consumed by the it

 

and i am nothing.

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*meeps and hides under her blanky* how i know that feeling you just described... if it is what you just described... 'nothing' indeed :(

 

I always like to say that I grew over it though.... too much to feel and live for, too much memories to be cherished and spit out... useless to be human without feelings no? Something like that anyways... >_<

 

Just that I know what you mean... never give up, keep digging inside yourself, find those parts of you that bring you the basics, the ability to be happy, the ability to mourn, the ability to stand in the storm with your chin up and without faltering... they helped me lots... maybe it works for you too :)

 

Oh you just inspired me I think.. thank you for that.... and for now, chin up and keep going, loved the poem *hugs again*

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