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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Night time


Equester

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Silence chokes like a lumpy quilt,

The dark pestered by a permanent light

Poking calmly through the thin gap

Between the blind and the window.

Pain is here, and the usual guilt,

And that old, familiar friend, Sorrow,

His cotton-gloved hand so slight

In its touch, yet so warm to the soul.

 

Lying awake at night never used to feel empty.

Remember when it used to mean

Rolling from side to side, punching pillows,

Pulling off then putting back on

Stupid, hot, stripey pyjamas? It’s funny,

But sad, too: how we all of us lie on

In this humbled, hollow state, never seen

By others; each one of us pondering his role.

Edited by Equester
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That's really good. I loved how you broke up the lines in the second half of the second stanza (was that intentional? or did it 'write itself' (sorry if that sounds stupid) that way?), how you can't read it flowingly but instead are forcefully moved into the restlessness that is not being able to sleep.

 

Actually the entire second stanza is really well crafted piece of poetry - the each person 'pondering their role' being a very poweful way to finish it. I'd never really given it much thought before, but it's true that in those long hours that we all sometimes get when we're trying to sleep, often our thoughts do tend towards the What Am I Doing Here? theme.

 

(edited for spellings)

Edited by sleepless
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***Grins at Ayshela-man of many surprises, me :lol: ***

 

Sleepless, wish I could claim that I wrote it intentionalyy, but I can't. That's the problem with most of my writing-they just happen. Whenever I try and write something that doesn't involve my feelings in some way, it generally falls flat on its face :rolleyes: .

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