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I feel the slightly wet grass on my fingertips as I run my hands through it. My head is tilted to the sky to catch the raindrops in my mouth as they fall one by one. My battered clothes have been replaced by a lovely sea blue dress, whose touch is like the wisps of smoke emanating from candles. I look to the thick forest ahead of me and think, so... This is what's like to live.

Buildings tower over my small figure, distorted and gray and like splotches of black ink on a parchment letter. The tarred road is cracked and torn, reeking of sweat, blood, and petroleum. I lift my head to the sky to catch the rain that is sure to fall, but it seems as though the clouds have deceived me. They're not really clouds at all, but layers of smog and radiation that have established a permanent residence in the city. I look to the fallen signs and street lamps and think, So.... This is what it's like to be trapped.

I walk to the forest and press my body against the trunk of a large tree. The bark is tinder soft and tickles my skin with it's arms. There's no smell of industry, no smell of pollution. Sap runs down on to my nose, sticky like honey and cream soda, and dries, leaving a bridge between two worlds. Leaves swirl around my feet, reminding me that I'm not the only thing that has fallen. I sit and let the dirt coat my legs along with the small animals that have made a home in it as well and I think, So... This is what it's like to be at peace.

The murky, brown water invades my shoes and dirties my feet as I walk through the tunnels. The light that pushes in is opaque with dust and bugs, much like its friend above me. The sticky walls pull at my unravelled clothes endlessly, trying to take them so they can be sold on the market. I fight it and stumble to my knees, where the rats seize the opportunity to attack. I fall flat on my stomach with my face submerged in the water and will myself to not feel the pricks of thousands of tiny teeth. I feel my oxygen run low and think, So... This is what it's like to die.

The forest vanishes and I find myself standing on the tallest mountain, the pinpoint of the world. Cotton snow swirls around me and I open my arms to welcome it and feel the tingles as it hits my skin. The night sky is filled with points of lucid light where some place far away, someone else is at the top of their world. The universe swallows my world except for the mountain, where I still perch. I look down into the swirling galaxies, where one is rising up to meet me, it's spiral soft and eternal. I smile and step off the mountain, allowing myself to sink into the swirling depths and I think, So...

This is what it's like to be free.



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Potter-Enthusiast said...
Oct. 12, 2012 at 3:08 pm
I think the descrptions are AMAZING! Beautiful and surreal writing style. And very mysterious theme. You definitely have a ton of potential. Would you mind checking out my poem sometime? I'd love some criticism.
 
OrenK said...
Jul. 21, 2012 at 9:11 pm
Live. Trapped. Peace. Die. Free. Set in PERFECT chronological order (in my opinion). Lovely article 
 
ShyWriting42 said...
Jul. 21, 2012 at 9:21 am
I think the beauty of this piece is the way you structured it. It works perfectly with the imagery. I saw and felt the forest and the city. Love it! (:
 
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