Categories > Original > Poetry > ripped out pages, broken coils

red inked paper

by noisee 0 reviews

(November /05) Buncha things I did with reflection. Or something. I don't know. I think I was working on my handwriting.

Category: Poetry - Rating: PG - Genres: Drama - Published: 2007-04-18 - Updated: 2007-04-18 - 262 words

and that's what he'd say
he'd say THOSE WORDS
but he'd be too late
everyone's rushing
make it on time
but everyone's always late
always late like he'd be

just recycled sayings
but we were saying
the same things
and then suddenly
we said something
at the exact same time
the exact same thing
something completely
original, new, unique
but we'd paid no
attention to the feat
we didn't know
we just thought
we were talking
Saying sayings
as per usual.

I was talking today.
Saying things, you know
repeating what I'd heard
not an original thought
just recycled sayings
turns out that somewhere
somewhere somebody was
talking today.
Saying things, you know
repeating what he'd heard
not an original thought

I don't want to see them
There are good things, yes
but those aren't worth the bad
Not worth having to see those
Those horrifying images
Tortured bodies, hanging innocents
It's just too much
The gruesomest of gruesome
Just too much
You can see the pain
Through their eyes
Their souls scream in agony
Nothing good is worth it
Having to see those things
And I just have to see it
experiencing it would be
I don't want to think about it

I don't mean to, but I do
It's not all bad, though
I start to understand things
Like why he probably did that
Or how she executed this
But I also start to see things
Good things, bad things, doesn't
Doesn't matter, more
I'm not supposed to see them
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