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silentpixie — The Painter
Published: 2002-12-15 04:33:06 +0000 UTC; Views: 103; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 9
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Description The painter sat
In the dark, dusty room
Steadily drifting
As the candle burnt
Allowing the wax
To drip onto his fingertips
Listening, half there
As the fire cracked
He found it had become
Harder to breathe
This was his warning
But he let danger come
As nothing else had
And he was settled alone
This night with adrenaline
This night, being afraid
Of his ending
Footsteps he heard approaching
Raw coldness
And restless loneliness
He waited until the candle died
He waited until his fire burnt out
He picked the world of his own craft
There, the dark difference of his own mind
The bitter holes he had planted
The mutilation of his own body
Pushing away his own chair
Pushing away his own distance
Last regrets of his choice
Final thoughts as the adrenaline
Saw to his itch
And satisfied his gutless rage
Blood red with the rising sun
And fading at dusk
He knew all along
His fate was stonely set.
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Comments: 4

provehitopoetry [2003-01-22 18:03:26 +0000 UTC]

this is very, very, good. The imagery is very intese its almost like a story

👍: 0 ⏩: 0

akashka [2002-12-20 20:28:02 +0000 UTC]

nice screenshot

👍: 0 ⏩: 0

nostalgicstar [2002-12-19 00:05:27 +0000 UTC]

i got more out of this the second time i read it! probably because i read it too fast the first time.

well i made it a fav because its very compelling and thoughtful. You put words together so beautifully

👍: 0 ⏩: 0

nostalgicstar [2002-12-15 05:12:06 +0000 UTC]

WOW!...

I dont think this poem deserves any more words other then..wow

👍: 0 ⏩: 0