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July Nights
by Rebecca LinI fail to see everything.
My soul simply wants to soar.
The parties were all wrong;
it never was the same.
The moon was gone for some time
and the sun began to fade.
Yet I am still here, you see,
and the clouds are too.
I wish to see our rainbow
(maybe just once we could all be content),
ever think of that?
The boy who needs therapy just chastises me.
Everything I do, tedious games,
turns out to be a nightmare
and leaves me going insane.
I'd say I'm already there.
I crossed that path long ago,
but now with all these maladies
I feel that I am wrong.
The world is covered in ache
and all I do is complain.
S i c k of all the hospitalsÂ…
Dear friends, you're going too fast.
The cat might've been deadly
and the beautiful girl burst in half.
The room upstairs is no longer pure white.
Paintbrushes were scattered everywhere.
The night before I got no sleep
for I couldn't glow but wouldn't dim.
The longest days of the year are bringing nothing.
I could leave right now, just go,
because life goes on
and light won't.
We all knew someday
the stars would die,
and that will happen especially soon
on these July nights. 07/03/2005 Author's Note: Probably one of the crappiest poems ever written. This is what happens when I just write random feelings down and don't make sense.
Posted on 07/04/2005
Copyright © 2024 Rebecca Lin
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Max Phineas on 07/05/05 at 09:02 PM I beg to differ. I think it's really beautiful. I also understand all the metaphor because I know you, lol. But it's a really great piece and I think you should keep it the way it is. ^^ |
| Posted by Leslie Ann Eisenberg on 11/28/05 at 05:23 PM extreme discomfort, and the expression of random, uncensored thoughts lead to great work. the first fruits are priceless lines: for I couldn't glow but wouldn't dim.... and the beautiful girl burst in half.....the pain flows through the lines and into our hearts, not because you've described it as textbook, but in raw image. your willingness to drop down and pen the images that swirl in your mind are what make you a great poet. |
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