Array ( [sid] => 134008 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => After All [time] => 2007-05-01 15:56:19 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Slowly dying a little more each day.
Necrotic tissue
never to breathe life again
with blood and oxygen.
Blackened and horrific,
the scent of a dead soul is
unforgettable.

You...
You once breathed life into this
hardened structure of a woman,
now death and darkness
has crept into the corners...
Tainted by misguided needs and
curiosities

The forest path has grown over
with twisted vines.
One must sharpen one's machete
to ever penetrate these
sacred woods again.
The once smooth passage
now littered with boulders
which seem unfathomable
to get across or...
around.

If I climbed out of the dark
will I see real light or
only the artificial glow which
seems to have been illuminating
my path for years now?
Will I ever know what the
"real" is? Is any of this real.....
after all?



Penned 4-29-07
Laura Horner [comments] => 6 [counter] => 228 [topic] => 75 [informant] => deadheadpoet [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 25 [ratings] => 5 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => anguished ) Your Poetry Dot Com - After All


After All
Date: Tuesday, 1st May 2007 @ 03:56:19 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: deadheadpoet
Slowly dying a little more each day.
Necrotic tissue
never to breathe life again
with blood and oxygen.
Blackened and horrific,
the scent of a dead soul is
unforgettable.

You...
You once breathed life into this
hardened structure of a woman,
now death and darkness
has crept into the corners...
Tainted by misguided needs and
curiosities

The forest path has grown over
with twisted vines.
One must sharpen one's machete
to ever penetrate these
sacred woods again.
The once smooth passage
now littered with boulders
which seem unfathomable
to get across or...
around.

If I climbed out of the dark
will I see real light or
only the artificial glow which
seems to have been illuminating
my path for years now?
Will I ever know what the
"real" is? Is any of this real.....
after all?



Penned 4-29-07
Laura Horner

This poem is Copyright © deadheadpoet


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