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lol that one is somewhat easy, its about the fear of the unknown and the night.
the moon light covers your face; the wind steals your voice from me; the earth hides your body from my sight; the rain shrouds your body in lace; the passing of time distorts your memory; the friends call for me to forget you; the lands have forgotten the sweetness of your voice; the history books have erased you; the name the world forgot; but; your heart, we will remember always |
emiko, I think your poem is about losing a loved one because the loved one died. Is it my fault if I never met you? Is it my problem if I'll never see you? Is it my loss if I tried before I even knew of you? Do I even know who you are? Will I ever feel your existence? Won't my heart ever connect with someone else's? |
I feel like the poem is about a miscarriage because it is about never meeting someone and a loss.
Our fingertips touch briefly as they take you away One stray tear escapes my eye I wonder if I will ever see you again I wonder if I will ever get out of here I wonder, without you, if I will survive. |
maybe being trapped and losing some one....
Your fingers scrape my spine The black creeping upon the night Every where I see your sign a vine to devour the light It is fate, it's a game. Quickly it is spread Yet sets my soul to flame like blood from body bled a planted seed of doubt or all the worst goodbyes that continues to shout reflected in dolls eyes. to your words many have fell all their pain completed dear even me under your spell to late to learn to fear your pleasures is too swift your calls sweet allure leaving me in your drift once again on worlds tour read this twice, once like normal, the second time every other line down then other lines back up |
I think it's about love...and as much as this person loves the other it isn't necessarily a good thing, the other person is some how hurting this one, more emotionally than anything else.
A little time is all i ask This just cannot be my fate To be alone like this just sitting in the dark, the silence grates If any one is listening I ask you please Is this to be my Fate? |
a person lamenting about his fate? and kind of Tanachan if you can call addiction love.
Drifting slowly, I watch as time passes. Drifting slowly, I watch my dreams pass. Drifting slowly, I watch life go by. Drifting slowly... so slowly... Why do I not build a boat? Why do I not build a net? Instead I just watch them float... until its the last chance I'll ever get. Drifting slowly, I watch as time passes. Drifting slowly, I watch my dreams pass. Drifting slowly, I watch life go by. Drifting slowly... drifting... |
Is it about a person who regrets doing nothing with their time? They just sit around and wait for it to go by?
An abstract thing. Something that exists simply because we say it does. How can we, as people, break down something so infinite? The one thing that will last -- beyond humans, beyond Earth, beyond anything else -- and we take it for granted. It is impossible to take back, and unlikely predicted. It can scar souls, repair hearts, and drive people insane. It can be spent with those you love, or alone. The choice is yours. |
I believe that the poem you wrote is about time.
Cold, in the embrace of darkness do I spin surrounded by distant brothers and cousins. I am the mother of thousands. Of millions. I am their warmth, their breath, I give them their life and reclaim it with death. Calm and kind is my default but my temper knows no bounds. Especially when my children desecrate my holy grounds. My life I share with you and you break me. My body I share with you and you scar me. My blessing I give to you and you repay me by making me ill with smoke, by dirtying my waters with oil 'till I choke. I am the Mother who has lost your respect. So who are you to ask for my kindness any longer? |
Obviously Beekeeper's poem is about being fed up with pollution.
I am the disobedient daughter of a heavenly King; and still I feel bad for Him all the times I think of how He has been ignored and proclaimed dead. My Heavenly Father loves me always, unconditionally, never forsaking, reaching out when my heart grows dim or I have sinned, to hold me, to comfort me, even now, a someone His Son died to save upon that cross as His blood was shed. My Redeemer, My Creator, how in rejoicing and praise I should shout and sing, about my invisible and loving friend; but to the things of this world, instead, do I bow - prideful people and those who may ridicule others, do I befriend. Yet how sweet and silent is my time with God, or when I pray a secret prayer; not one meant to be heard by all with a fake smile so charming, but one that is warm, heartfelt, and genuinely sent, even if I'm just lifting up my daily anger or doubts, or just plain thanking Him for the meal I've been fed. |
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