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Alone
#1
Hello all.

Inspiration is not always rosy and bright... sometimes, darker feelings creep up when the hour is late, and they demand their share of the stage Dodgy . As an experiment, I let this somber mood guide my writing - and below is the result. Strangely, it proved to be quite liberating; I feel renewed and at peace, almost as if a fever has abated... so, no need to worry about me Tongue .



Alone

 
 
I watch, helpless and forlorn, the scene unfolding;
Lost in a sea of bodies, forgotten flotsam
Smothered within the crowd, in oblivion sinking,
Drowning, to the point I doubt who I really am...
 
So painstakingly I seek familiar faces...
Where are they? The painful red letters "OFFLINE"
Mock me. Everyone is gone, leaving no traces
The cold, calamitous truth is solely mine...
 
I am on my own.
 
I scour the vastitude of the forums, looking
For a sign: kind words, reassurance most desired...
Nothing. Green poison then spread in my veins, cloying,
When I stumble on their private talks unobserved.
 
Cold fire burns within my chest, twisting my soul...
Dark thoughts thunder about in my mind, stoking rage;
I resent them so! Never has envy so foul
Possessed me; mayhap I should just depart the stage...
 
Still on my own.
 
We are human consumables, obsolescence
Planned from the beginning; playthings soon discarded
For the next cheap thrill. And the cost? Our innocence,
Assuredy. Alas, mine was poorly guarded.
 
Nothing left to say, nothing left to feel either;
What's left then? An empty husk, a discarded shell
And yet, somehow, drained and listless, in a fever
I trudge onward, stricken, bound for my private hell.
 
Ever on my own.
"Let my worship be within the heart that rejoiceth, for behold: all acts of love and pleasure are my rituals."
The Goddess -
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#2
Oh Ivan! *Hug*.
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#3
It's admirable how you can channel even negativity into something constructive, dear friend. (Meanwhile, I spar with writer's block even on my best days...)

It is perfectly okay to not be okay at times - it makes us wholesome. Do feel free to message me privately anytime.
"Each night has one sound I know: the moon against the water like your cheek across mine in another life." – Sara Eliza Johnson
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#4
oh my, Ivan, you did it again...
To be simple is to be great
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#5
I don't even know what to say. Why can't I be this creative when I'm all alone? Tongue Seriously, excellent poem. This is among my favorites of the pieces that you post on this forum.
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#6
He really is a wonder isn't he?
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#7
(02-12-2016, 07:37 AM)IvanXLIV Wrote: Hello all.

Inspiration is not always rosy and bright... sometimes, darker feelings creep up when the hour is late, and they demand their share of the stage Dodgy . As an experiment, I let this somber mood guide my writing - and below is the result. Strangely, it proved to be quite liberating; I feel renewed and at peace, almost as if a fever has abated... so, no need to worry about me Tongue .



Alone

 
 
I watch, helpless and forlorn, the scene unfolding;
Lost in a sea of bodies, forgotten flotsam
Smothered within the crowd, in oblivion sinking,
Drowning, to the point I doubt who I really am...
 
So painstakingly I seek familiar faces...
Where are they? The painful red letters "OFFLINE"
Mock me. Everyone is gone, leaving no traces
The cold, calamitous truth is solely mine...
 
I am on my own.
 
I scour the vastitude of the forums, looking
For a sign: kind words, reassurance most desired...
Nothing. Green poison then spread in my veins, cloying,
When I stumble on their private talks unobserved.
 
Cold fire burns within my chest, twisting my soul...
Dark thoughts thunder about in my mind, stoking rage;
I resent them so! Never has envy so foul
Possessed me; mayhap I should just depart the stage...
 
Still on my own.
 
We are human consumables, obsolescence
Planned from the beginning; playthings soon discarded
For the next cheap thrill. And the cost? Our innocence,
Assuredy. Alas, mine was poorly guarded.
 
Nothing left to say, nothing left to feel either;
What's left then? An empty husk, a discarded shell
And yet, somehow, drained and listless, in a fever
I trudge onward, stricken, bound for my private hell.
 
Ever on my own.

I know this quite well

A big hug my friend
Every word a world
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#8
*hugs back Rick*

Thank you my friend. I have to stress once more that writing this piece purged me of the very negative feelings that inspired it.

My next composition will be far lighter, and definitely whimsical...  Rolleyes
"Let my worship be within the heart that rejoiceth, for behold: all acts of love and pleasure are my rituals."
The Goddess -
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#9
Writing can be my catharsis also.  Thank you for reminding me I am not alone.
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