
| Just Rambles
Author: kittEfox1 to me, an outlet isnt quite satisfying until it is released for the world to see
Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Words: 385 - Published: 11-05-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3071735
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I'm trying to let the words flow
Let my hand make flowing shapes
Immerse myself in printed words
Leading to faraway lands
Found myself an addiction
Neither heroin nor cigarettes
But the soft, harsh, white glow
Of the internet
Humor and comfort fics
Something to remember
As I lay awake at night
And the clocks tick, tock
As I lay awake at night
And the clocks tick, tock
Tears and little sobs let out
A messy scrawl of pent up words
Pretended scenarios
Flying through in vivid picture
Looking at the mess the next day
And feeling
That sorrow
At the self-pity stark white against black
As I lay awake at night
And the clocks tick, tock
The awful clarity of insight
On the flaws riddled throughout a soul
Little things that we turn a blind eye on
Larger things covered up
Feeling that numbness
Of grudging screaming acknowledgement
Merely the acknowledgement
And maybe
Acceptance
And lest my words become too flowery and sweet
Of a fairy tale or lore
Of an ancient forest sitting by the shoreline with moonlight from above
Rarely do we see those things and let them out to light
And few even fewer
Accepted
It's too easy
Frighteningly easy
To be swept up in the little things of life
Of the paper you had to turn in this morning
Of the lunch you had to make
The meeting you have late afternoon
Or maybe even a hot date
I'd hardly know
And it goes to show
In the changing style of this writing
Did you notice it, dear reader?
The changing of the rhythm
Of the melody I sing
Even in the word choices and structuring
It changed just now, yet again
To that of the children's poet
Or of a storyteller
Hardly there is a difference but in the viewer
That I think
This was my outlet
My little escape
To write some meanderings
And listen
Dance
To a song, faint yet strong
Putting words as I see fit
Without a care for how it sounds
Except for in my head
Where the melody
Strange as it is
And the rhythm
As often as it changes
Are the only things that confine me
In this poem
This outlet
As I lay awake at night
And the clocks tick, tock
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