Pocketknife

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You are not a beam of sun, with luminance and light

Or lips that curl into an imperfect smile of a passerby

Or Fort Meyers, Florida, retirees gazing into your sky of cotton balls

You are more like a pocketknife,

slitting the wrists of the darkness

In blackened gloom

Tower of terror,

You never cease to amaze me

The mask that conceales you

Of your false carelessness

You are fog on a stormy night

Leaving others hurt, lost, confused

You leave me unharmed

Without a single scratch

I feel no piercing anguish

And at the end of the pitch black tunnel,

I see a light,

Pocketknife





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This article has 2 comments. Post your own now!

Aluna said...
Mar. 28, 2010 at 4:13 pm
Thank you so much! I didn't mean to put that picture on there though... :). The person whom I dedicated this to has been a huge source of inspiration in my writing. He has really been struggling, and I can relate. Thank you for commenting!
 
Milo! said...
Mar. 27, 2010 at 9:15 pm
I really love this. I really like how everyone can relate to this. I hope you keep writing, because this is great. You should check out some of my stuff. I think you would like it.
 
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