By AnonymousThere she goes again,
Fishing. Sometimes I wonder who got her into such a boring pastime. Her father? Her mother? Her friends? Ex-boyfriends? She throws her pole, and waits Sometimes seconds Sometimes minutes Sometimes hours When she finally catches one she’s filled with euphoria Satisfaction, confidence, and enjoyment But, then she proceeds to do what she always does She throws the fish back Letting is swim away, along with the short-lived feeling With her feeling gone she continues, as if nothing did She casts her pole yet again Never catching enough Nothing can fill that void Until finally, she gives up, just to come back another time Hoping for the one catch that is never to come What I hope for her, is that she finds a different pastime, Something better than fishing
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By Maddie KortI shield myself from the rapid rain that you toss upon me.
The rain used to gently crash, Now it harshly pelts against me. My skin burns. It burns in the rain that I feel. Living inside this skin I once felt home in. This now familiar place has grown cold while the flames arise. How can this be possible? I screech in pain as marks are carefully drawn across my soul. Slowly. Painfully. I die. I die slowly, but that’s what you wanted. Isn’t it? So your rain will pelt me no longer. I will open up my clear umbrella. And although it may not shield me from each and every drop. It will remove some of the pain. Or so I had hoped. I can see, I can see through my clear umbrella. Although the rain may not be getting to me, I can see it all. I watch below and you drum yourselves against me. I watch your words, With accuracy to perfection, Hit my clear umbrella. And it hurts. Why are you inflicting pain upon my tortured soul? What did I do? What do I do? What happens now? I cannot get another umbrella, I am left with my clear one, But my trusty shield is diminishing, Slowly. So I brave on past my troubles and sorrows. I no longer care if my umbrella is clear. It just allows me to see how strong I am, What could be getting to me, But isn’t. I walk down this never-ending road, Smiling. I am alive. The truth is that I have no idea what I am doing with my life,
What gives you the right to take that away from me, sir? You have no right to hold me the way you want to I will never hold you that way, and everyone will hear what you did You terrify me, and you will never understand what I mean, “I love you” are just words until you give them meaning, but you did not Will you ever? You will never gain my trust You may think you have, But I will never give that away again. You are my everything But my last hope at anything in the world You were my truth, but you will never see that…. I promise you. |
AuthorThe writers of Ray-Pec Archives
November 2019
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