Apparently, when I get emotional I write poetry. The mood of it explains the mood I was in when it was written - which is pretty much how I do that. Anyway, here’s a poem:
It dulls your senses
Makes your head throb
Makes you rage against one -
Someone?
No one.
Howling at the white moon framed by the black sky
Black like your pain.
Wings of hatred sprout, and you fly
Away from it all
Information floods your brain
Like that tall gray wall that is your pride has finally broken
under the relentless attack (cliché though it is)
of that hurricane of feelings
It never ends.
Only waits, watching.
And your soul dies, over and over
Reborn each time - a surreal phoenix, if you will - comprised of your thoughts, hopes, dreams
Emerges anew when the call of this phoenix is answered and the sun rises
And your eyes dry, yet still smart from the heat
Stinging and twitching with memory.
The human race is not forgiving, nor is it ever forgiven.
This is not said without good reason.
I’m going to be entering this into a competition soon since I thought it was pretty good. I wondered at how the words seemed to flow straight from my mind to the paper - the pencil only a gateway. Of course, see where it gets me? Now I’m being what I call “clichéd poetic” without even trying. Anyway, hope you like it, and there’s another webcomic coming soon (possibly a series soon too!).
