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UnTiTlEd
| Dark Poetry #3 |
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UnTiTlEd |
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Xeonox
since 2000-04-01
Posts 1764CA, USA 
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The crimson walls, Surround me with familiar faces, Leaving my mouth tasteless, Of what I had the pleasure of, Today the images appear once again, My muse sets up this reality, In an instance words are utter, Changes the way I look at the faces, The colors in this rainbow, Are blinded by the distinction, In it I sought asylum, No inspiration of likeness exists. Ronil (One becomes god only when they have fully understood the role of being a human being.) [This message has been edited by Xeonox (edited 05-26-2001).] |
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| © Copyright 2001 Ronil B Tataria - All Rights Reserved | |||
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dragonpoe Senior Member
since 2000-11-12
Posts 608Palm Bay, Florida |
A very interesting piece. I had to read it twice, and both times I got the same undescribable feeling of inner realization. Got me to thinking, I like it.  With the word, I am mighty, with the pen I am free.. |
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