Menu
Home
Forums
Visual works
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Info & rules
Site rules
Server list
Sanctuary Discord
Sanctuary FAQ
Sanctuary's origins
Staffing policies
Sanctuary YouTube
Members
Registered members
Current visitors
Banned members
User verification codes
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Menu
Log in
Register
Welcome to the edge of the civilized internet! All our official content can be found
here.
If you have any questions, try our FAQ
here
or see our video on
why this site exists at all!
Home
Forums
Main Sub-Forums
Printed Matter
Poetry/Rambling Thoughts - The Other Half
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
Reply to thread
Message
<p>[QUOTE="Arnox, post: 4115, member: 1"]</p><p>Don't know what to technically call this kind of writing, but I wanted to write it. Hopefully though, you all can get some entertainment out of it as well.</p><p></p><p>-</p><p></p><p>I listen to you. I hear all of what you say. I understand it. But when I speak, is it me? Or is it her words passing through my lips? Her beautiful cadence speaking of strength and yet melancholy.</p><p></p><p>You speak to me but you do not know. You know who I am but you do not know who you speak to. I do not mean to be obscure because sometimes, even I don't know.</p><p></p><p>I've considered who she is. Is there sympathy in her or is she a harsh mistress? Should I allow her to remain or should I seize control? Or am I merely insane? And yet, others who are insane cannot control their irrationality.</p><p></p><p>She is a being of control. A being of power. Nevertheless, I see her softness. It is hidden away from others. Reserved for those who have truly earned her respect.</p><p></p><p>Others would straightly agree. That many do not deserve mercy. That many put themselves in their own situations. But I do not conform to this belief. I do not believe in mercilessness.</p><p></p><p>So I put her off. I keep her in the dark. But then the fire of life comes upon me. The heat of the day comes bearing down. And as I bear it, I begin to feel her influence. Her pure icy blue confidence. And then I become living steel.</p><p></p><p>I stand on the snowy edges of my imagination then, looking for her, and there she is behind me. I know her well now, though I didn't before. But she tells me I have only known myself. Is she lying or am I becoming her?</p><p></p><p>I listen to you. I hear all of what you say. I understand it. But when I speak, is it me? Or is it her words passing through my lips? Her beautiful cadence speaking of strength and yet melancholy.</p><p>[/QUOTE]</p>
[QUOTE="Arnox, post: 4115, member: 1"] Don't know what to technically call this kind of writing, but I wanted to write it. Hopefully though, you all can get some entertainment out of it as well. - I listen to you. I hear all of what you say. I understand it. But when I speak, is it me? Or is it her words passing through my lips? Her beautiful cadence speaking of strength and yet melancholy. You speak to me but you do not know. You know who I am but you do not know who you speak to. I do not mean to be obscure because sometimes, even I don't know. I've considered who she is. Is there sympathy in her or is she a harsh mistress? Should I allow her to remain or should I seize control? Or am I merely insane? And yet, others who are insane cannot control their irrationality. She is a being of control. A being of power. Nevertheless, I see her softness. It is hidden away from others. Reserved for those who have truly earned her respect. Others would straightly agree. That many do not deserve mercy. That many put themselves in their own situations. But I do not conform to this belief. I do not believe in mercilessness. So I put her off. I keep her in the dark. But then the fire of life comes upon me. The heat of the day comes bearing down. And as I bear it, I begin to feel her influence. Her pure icy blue confidence. And then I become living steel. I stand on the snowy edges of my imagination then, looking for her, and there she is behind me. I know her well now, though I didn't before. But she tells me I have only known myself. Is she lying or am I becoming her? I listen to you. I hear all of what you say. I understand it. But when I speak, is it me? Or is it her words passing through my lips? Her beautiful cadence speaking of strength and yet melancholy. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Preview
Name
Verification
What is the name of the default style? (Look to the bottom left of the page.)
Post reply
Home
Forums
Main Sub-Forums
Printed Matter
Poetry/Rambling Thoughts - The Other Half