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Sid Thomas

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Member Since: Oct, 2008

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Frail, Broken, Awaken and Wilt
by Sid Thomas

Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Rated "R" by the Author.
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A four part poem about one mans

Frail

The barell of the gun rests upon my temple,My eyes close as the beads of sweat stop dripping.All is silent but the white noise of the circling fan.
I Pull the hammer back and take a deep breath as i take it all in.

I feel ive fallen from heaven to hell but i know i've landed somewhere in between. Fragile, Yet already chipped and cracked. Crippled by thoughts of a succomed reality.

I remove the barrel from my forehead and stare lifelessly at it as its cold metal rests upon my warm palm. I wander out, But to where i can't see, I begin to feel the loosened dirt cover me.

the cold sweat returns as i turn my head and gaze upon the phone. It sits there lifeless, just how i feel, Thrown carlessly on to the dirty carpet, resting its lonely head.

I feel as if tears begin to drip slowly, rolling off my cheek. Only to know that no water has come to these dry eyes.

I walk into the bathroom and see something frayed and fragile in the hapless mirror. Myself.
 

Broken

 I see my face
I throw my fist
I crack the mirror
and see it shatter on the floor
my knuckles bleed but i dont care anymore
I look down upon the friged glass
my face broken and contorted
now i look just how i feel

 Awaken

I smell the stench of sugar and piss
what hellish torment lips have i kissed?
What new live have i become?
To what will i ever Succomb?
God an imaginary figure laughing behind my back
I can feel his smile as his cold hand throws me away.

Wilt

The sweet scent of roses doesn't appease me anymore,
they smell dank as they shrivel and wilt.
the only thing left are the thorns.
Its beauty is gone the only thing left is what it really is.

With a loud crackle of the smoking barell the body falls to the floor
The mind,
a time ticking closer to its release
ever ticking, ever shaking,
when will it go off
when will it explode
when will it go off...
only to regret

 

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