What story could be told with my portrait?
Loss, heartache, abandon.
What would be sensed behind the eyes of my portrait?
Hope, fear, wanting.
What vision could be seen from my portrait?
Desperation, heart break, desire.
What sound could be heard through my portrait?
Weeping, screaming, hollow laughter.
What feeling could be felt about my portrait?
Sadness, disgust, pity.
What smell could be received in my portrait?
Decay, rot, earth.
What sense is most tied to my portrait?
All the stories are told, all the senses spent, all the visions seen,
All the sounds heard, all the feelings felt, all the smells received.
What is left but me?
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
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2 comments:
I like this. :)
but I have a little suggestion (feel free to ignore if you wish). I think if you swap heartbreak and disgust it would flow better.
Ahhh... the facade we wear like a mask at a masquerade ball. People see what we chose for them to see, leaving the real us for those whom we allow in for a closer look. An inspiring poem. Penny
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