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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 14:16:33 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 134090
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Meaningless
[time] => 2007-05-04 08:16:07
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Trapped. Trapped inside my own little world. Trapped inside this tiny 1 bed roomed loft apartment. These four walls are my prison cell, The clouded up windows the bars. I have a life sentence in this high security prison. The rain has been beating down on my fragile single glazed windows for hours. The sound echoing throughout like a condemned man taking his final footsteps down the mile before being strapped into the chair. The lift, the lift is my chair. That will be the end of me. When I step outside and a thousand piercing eyes splash down on me like the bitter cold raindrops. The once blue sky has now faded, Drifted out like the sea retreating from the sandy shore. But this time it’s different, My blue skies will not appear again. Never. The grey skies only darken. The only window in this place is growing darker and darker. My discoloured curtains are gathering dust on the rotting rail. I don’t bother closing them. I don’t bother because no one bothers to look in at me. No one really cares. The clouds are my curtains. Every night they open and close giving me my privacy and then unveiling me for the whole world to see. But this morning even they couldn’t be bothered. They stayed closed. No sunshine shone on my window. No light to show up my coffee stained rug. The scratches on my walls. The human waste in which a wallow. No light so show my self pity. I take my finger and I write your name upon the window. I stare for while It makes no sense anymore. This isn’t a name to me It’s just jumbled up letters. I try to figure out what your name means to me. It means nothing. I take my bare hand and take a swing at the window. Glass sprays in all directions. Blood now runs down the broken window pane. Free. My blood is washed away in the rain and I lay on the floor the life pours out of my body like the rain from the clouds. I’m out of my prison. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 171 [topic] => 65 [informant] => lozza [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => toughstuff )
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